jornales

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

who can believe (one Shoot Sunday)

the glitz, but a masquerade
a sheer veil behind the haze
for all I hear

slush scrunched underfoot–
what pain in my heart a thousand
baubles thrown on ground

dripping rain slowing down
to creep on eaves so agonizingly glassy–
the dirt shows

heaving trains on stops rumbling as herds
stomping into dreams of slumbering
seeds, mine

how to halt
some hundred puffs of violins ascending
infinity cannot but be an illusion of hearing

a whimper skittering on air, mine
crinkling the silence no one hears–
beneath the blinders

the blinding lights–
who can save me disbelieving
I in masquerade

am searching for a prayer

Photo by Mike Roemer

Posted for One Shoot Sunday at One Stop Poetry blog from a photograph of Mike Roemer. Join other poets and artists who love what they do.

January 23, 2011 Posted by | free verse, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 19 Comments

After Melissa (Red Dragonfly)

After Melissa’s latest post: explaining why a haiku is written or what’s the story behind your haiku?

This haiku came out of the fragments of some days. Like coming in and out of the courtyard from the back door for me to go up the third floor to our condo apartment, I hardly ever miss to glance at the garden. Frostbitten now, ruined by the rains and so far, one snowfall, the day lilies have liquified into mush like some neglected salad greens in the fridge; the roses but a memory of silk petals, now all cracked petrified limbs. The bald red maple strung with rainbow bulbs hardly hints at the red dragonflies–its pod sacks–swinging on its twigs. Muddied mounds by a corner used to be azaleas burning in fuschia. The rest have shed their names with their flowers except for the hydrangeas as if preserved in stained sepia though utterly disheveled. Alana from penthouse #7, in whose hands these bloomed, passes by the garden unstopping unlike me. But I imagine her indifference as merely a masquerade for a broken heart. I imagined in a gesture of finality for her heart to let heal and begin again…

she uproots
her disheveled hydrangeas–
first day of the year

January 4, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Masquerade (for one shot Wednesday)

On stubbly grass unthinking on my heels, I crush a pair
of yellow dots here on a nameless hill-rise where
spark these fallen stars—
perhaps?

Thumb-sized faces, touching shyness, such subterfuge for such
malicious growth: these weeds whose birth in helium
augur choking death to promises of
rose-lipped tulips and such

or nodding daffodils and flare-collared narcissus. But my pupils
to its petals the dandelion-look cannot but inveigle, openness
its sheath of innocence so unlike
the earnestness

ivy creepers throttle a birch or the blatant avarice a herd of agile paws
and furry tails sidestep my indifference, trembling to un-husk
a single nut, pointed jaws nibbling time—no
pretenses there. Masquerades

I would rather find, disguises to my own guises—the sun-gazing
adoring face-thrusting-trust dandelions pose on a universe
of pupils, mine for one but not mine, whose malevolent
leaps spring from

fear. I, who face no fear of thwarted rebirths from tumescent bulbs
or such other spurts of life I could cause, see no power in these
weeds I now half bend to gaze at as if loving them
flowering, relishing

the sound of their name. These weeds, are they perhaps a kin
to Leo, the constellation the overbearing sun
rules? Could they be remnants of colliding
stars, battling their way

as if certain a center lay in the black void and bursting, littered
a blue dot where on patches, this hill-rise for one, struck
a bed for them to mutate and transmogrify? If
they were

I need not wonder then why they deserve such spite—rolling as
weeds these minute suns in masquerade, I know as
I know what I am.

I am posting this poem for One Shot Wednesday at the One Stop Poetry blog.
Join us – throw in your verses. Here are the rules (taken directly off their blog):
1. Write a poetic piece & post it on your blog
2. Then let us know about your post. Link back to One Shot
3. Sign up in the Mr Linky list, linking directly to your post, AFTER you’ve posted it.
4. Go visit others who have signed up! Offer support & encouragement. Share your love of words and insight respectfully. Please try to visit as many participating poets as you can. We all could use and appreciate kind feedback.

December 22, 2010 Posted by | free verse, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments