Calling Summer

Calling summer
Calling the brilliant yellow
to cover freezing white
layers of snow

Colouring my house gold
hanging balloons to boring ceiling
freezing Popsicles
slicing lemons for lemonade

Waiting
for summer to show its face
and stay forever
Tired of this cold weather
tired of this cold weather

Friend

Friend, I cannot tell you to leave
Neither can I say stay
Love is not on and off
running emotion from a water tap

But if

Friend, it is like this
Every human being resides
in a recyclable bin
Some empty, some half fill

You can pick and pick
search among the recyclables
Find tossed emotions waiting for love
Try to get your bottle refill

Away From The Blue

He says, come let me take you
into a different mood
away from this boring blue
to an optimist pink
the way things use to be

Let me stir you on a different scene
stimulating the senses
sweet-smelling roses caressing the skin,
sprinkling bubbly wine
on the tip of tongue- slowly
stirring the waiting mouth



Let me awake you to this
falling snowflakes passion rain
you and I sharing an embrace,
love in a romantic place
soaking wet in passion mist
Close your eyes and think
cherry crimson pink

Give It Up

Give it up
that “no body love me’ face
scarring a young-looking skin
to early wrinkle
and for what? For who?
True love is never far
will always find when you close the past
and open your heart for better

January A New Year

January, a new year
and the house smells drunk
of sweet fruit cake, red sorrel rum
and days old turkey rotting

Wine stain on white linen cloth,
a shade of brown sleeping drunk
The house is silent no sound
just colourful lights blinking
on a tall thin pine tree
and the unmoving acidy rummy
scent from drinking

Cleaning scrubbing bleaching
washing windows, polishing floor
removing Christmas wreath from the door
Staying focus ridding the house of odour

Throwing out useless unwanted gifts
like the sewer scented candle, ugly sweaters
stale box cookies, cinnamon stick
and other disgusting things

Except for the lovely cards, sweet potato pie
and the brown leather coat. I didn’t get much
just tons and tons of junk
And I am mad; mad that Christmas
the one-day visitor left me in such a mess

She Sits Before The Fire

She sits before the fire
flaming high bright yellow
lost in the crackling sound
of burning wood flashing sparks

She has not seen grandpa
two days pass


She knows something is wrong
but she knows not what
and we cannot tell her. Not now!

No, we just cannot extinguish the light
that keeps her going
that keeps her hoping

So we gather around commenting
on the fire’s bright light
And we say nothing

The Rabbit Coat You Wore At My Wedding

The rabbit coat you wore at my wedding
eloquently refine desert dust, stunning
hidden neckline, hook and eye front
long sleeves falling on wrist like a ringing bell
I remember it well
You gave it to me the very next day
Wrapped in a silver box just as you bought it
covered in protective seal plastic

I wear it to all my grand babies christening
in the same church, you first wore it then
Not as grand shiny and stunning
But still with sentiments; spirit of your lingering
wisdom family gathering scent

And it saturate on me and everyone you touch
when you were the vigorous powerhouse
commanding me to carry the red bloodline
cup in the palm of my hand. Trying not to spill
fragile family water to ground
striving to be strong, curving turmoil actions
rebellious views, resting to where you left ~peace

And here you are sitting before a calm fire
with high flames that does not burn
smiling with the eyes of Moses. Pleasing
Your job is done
leaving me with the secret rod -
The rabbit coat you wore at my wedding.