for a moment of joy or moments no one pays for, i give myself a ‘jornal’. this makes me rich. try it.

Surrender (at “Many Windows” Magnapoets 2011 anthology series 4)

On her lens a pair of wild weeds
swayed from a rock by the edge of the lake
blooming tips brushing as if in light kisses
a moving oneness that flashed at me.
On the scrabble board back home
I set the letter “s” for “surrender”.
“Tell me how,” she had asked. My answer,
like waves folding onto each other these:
The way flowers let the wind play
on weakness touching but not breaking
a kind of touch that instructs bees on
gentleness—a kiss that leaves
no mark—that glues the heart, the way
the mind pulls threads off words
let gather from winds bowers of leaves
a nest for globules of light,
name the globules love the way wind
blows out the light the way
darkness kneads itself to make love real,
the way night lets the wind sough
a kind of song that shreds the light,
clouds the heart the way the wind
tempts the dawn.
Grit not tears fractures sight
the way the wind lets dust ride, whispering
words the way some words run into verses
to crack the bolts that quarantine
lovers, unleashing them to surrender
to flee to bloom, the way
the weed pair let the wind swing,
lash at them, the way they flex together
how like love could stay possible
where it isn’t, musn’t.

First published in “Many Windows”, 2011 Magnapoets Anthology Series 4, Edited by Aurora Antonovic

Thank you, Elle, for the inspiration. 

(photo: esangeles 2010, Harrison Springs, BC, Canada)


June 21, 2012 Posted by | free verse, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

this change of name (to celebrate Vancouver’s 125th year and my soon-to-have Canadian citizenship for One Shot Wednesday)

it is
a matter of spelling
this change of name

or am i fooling
the skies i look up to
the clouds
none i can name

the mountains
that shimmer
stealing in in stead
the names

of mountain ranges
facing East
among its jungles
my spirit roosts

alien snow
now smoothers
my laughter
i drift aground

is earth
unlike the sun
by sorrow?

i hear
from mourning doves
the language
of dawns

i mismatch
evening clouds
in my dreams
the chill stays

yet the sparrow
shares its songs
that seep into my sleep
lull my world

i regain my name
on Hollyburn
where a lotus by itself
on the lake

such poignancy
mirorring my loneliness
soaks the sun
as if enough

i trail the buds
lined along the Fraser’s North Arm
winding down and up
the river bed

the tide cuts a line
between my dreams and the sky
ripples catch my breathing
in rhythmic sighs

i’m scaling the breast
of Burnaby Mounains
my soul resists
its longings

i’m close to home
close to sinking
in the foam
skirting Horseshoe Bay

an eagle skims
my rhyming
my longings weave
in and out of the air

on a skein
of cherry blossoms
once only paintings on scrolls
i learn to haiku

thinking of moths
in my childhood those slivers of light
that die on the light
and fade in the morning

on my waking
i am who has always been
the city aground on my steps
whose name i can now say

even in sleep–

copyright (c) by Alegria Imperial 2011

Written for Vancouver’s 125th anniversary (supposedly for a poetry collection but whose deadline I missed, and also in celebration of my soon-to-be Canaadian citizenship–I’m taking my oath in a few days, after four years of my arrival as immigrant). Posted for One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry, the inimitable gathering place for poets and artists. Come share your art and check out a great number of terrific lines from other poets.

July 13, 2011 Posted by | free verse, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

romance in haiku (with prompted items from NaHaiWriMo wall)

packing for one
our toothbrushes

morning waves
lapping on our toes—
in a wink sunset

the lake
a hand clasp

arrival gate
blur of a hundred faces
except yours

end of winter clouds–
their heartbeats the only sound
between them

between patches of night sky
a pregnant moon

Numbered items from NaHaiWriMo wall. Romance in haiku because of its compact, disciplined form reads more intense for me, more compelling from what’s unsaid. What do you think?

March 17, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

April’s Dreams: A One Act Scene (First and Last Performance) for One Shoot Sunday

On a lake, musing.
On possibilities, shuffling.
Impossibilities, imposing.

Scene rises.

Opaque scrim. Stage left
Monologue I (Narrator)

Shouldn’t you name a flower April ? Why a
month of rains? Or shouldn’t it be this pigtailed girl mocking a moon named Sam, cruising a black lake?

Scenario I. Curtain Rises.
Narrator. Stage Right.

In April, wet winds stir up flowers. Petals dance like fireflies on its hair. Silver fish darts off, piercing Will. Moonbeams whoosh, mushrooms sprouting in their trail.

Dialogue I

Will: (From stage left. Walks to the edge of the lake. Moonlight behind him swarms. To girl he calls April)

Only dwarfs breed umbrellas on the ground, silly. We are too tall for rain. Rain, April rain, rushes through sleep.

Shouldn’t I push Ofelia’s barge? I have the flowers.

Scenario II.
Narrator. With Will frozen on his tracks in the moonlight.

Ofelia of the lake wears ripples for her hair. April, the girl, dreams of Will sinking the barge, where Ofelia sings, nursing flowers opening and closing on her breast—the wind dredges her hair. Naked, she peers out of the lake. Her heart winks back.

Monologue II
Will shudders, waking, rumbling a dream. Lake. Moonlight lits up the barge.

April heat chills memories. Winds bring lies—cruel is a gong not a word to begin the mourning. Death descends if the sky releases a sigh, a breath Ofelia hears, waiting to cease feeding the flowers.

Dialogue II
Will walks to April. She appears from the shadows at stage left. Behind the willows, the barge floats away. Soft humming. A mournful song.

Why slumber in April?

April to Will:
Because I cannot bear the bulbs laughing in the murmuring rain, and the nibbling winged worms do when not sipping. So much breeding in the leaves.

But sleep the dream of bulbs. The whish of life unceasing drowns uncanny breaths. Breeding cleanses the air for leaves.

Is that why Ofelia sings? To drown the dream uncleansed? My heart of air hisses when it dreams. My name fires up the earth when said. Razes to ashes hearts weakened by dreams. Like Ofelia, like the willows weeping lakes of tears.

Do you exist? What is your name?

Scenario III. Stage dims to a dream. Mist rises from the lake. Moonlight sizzles to a smoke.

Narrator. Stage right

Will splatters on the lake. Where his face melts, a flower sprouts the girl named April has taunted, blooming where Ofelia sings, floating.

Opaque scrim. Epilogue

Monologue IV:

Names, what means do
names cast reality?
Birth a dream?
Die a death?
Taunt a flower?

"The Show Must Go On" photo by Jacob Lucas

The curtain drops, crashes. Lights blink, the sighing dies down. Stark debris of a one-act play. April on the lake dredged. Will, the moon, torn and stained has flown back to the sky. Moonlight lits what once was a stage. A humming to this day.

Posted for One Shoot Sunday at One Stop Poetry with photo prompt by Jacob Lucas. This experimental piece joins the poetry or other works of talented poets and artists who love their work and share this love with each other. Come join us!

March 6, 2011 Posted by | free verse, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 16 Comments