waiting on the bus

she stands in the sun,

rain, fog, snow or wind

waiting for the bus to arrive

she watches cars drive by

drivers absorbed in their

own little cubicles as  

she stands there waiting

for her ride to come

dawn is coming

Mount Tamalpais, United States by John Towner

Courtesy of unsplash.com

dawn is coming

and we are running out of time

dawn is coming

and will expose our dark shadows

dawn is coming

and will rouse us from our slumber

dawn is coming

to chase away last night’s love songs

dawn is coming

and you will soon leave my side

but when dawn departs

you will return to me once again

- Written for dVerse Meeting the Bar: I'll Say it Again (and Again and Again) where we play with repetition.  Come join the fun.

voice

they said our voices were too loud

so they did their best to muffle them

until we could do nothing

but whisper into the wind

then we stood up, broke our chains

as our voices reached the sky

vowing not to be silenced again

- Written for dVerse Quadrille #24 "whisper".

on a bridge

on a bridge I left you my heart

thinking you would find it one day

instead hopes and dreams fell apart

on a bridge I left you my heart

but my grand plan was not too smart

for another led you astray

on a bridge I left you my heart

thinking you would find it one day

- Written for dVerse Open Link Night #187.  This poem was inspired by dVerse Tuesday Poetic "Abridged Version" prompt.  

"Central Park" by Rachael Purdy

Courtesy of all-free-download.com

snow days

This evening I saw a man standing by the road, holding up a sign I could not read in the fading light.  He stood in the bitter cold, the ground covered by the recent snowfall.   As I drove home, I thought about a memory when, as a child, I would play in the snow.  Snow days were always the best.  I would spend my time outdoors trying to build snowman or just snowballs until my finger tingled.  Then I would come inside to warm up, my feet by the heater and hot chocolate in my hand as mom did housework.  A little while later, I would go back outside to play in the beautiful snow until the daylight began to fade.  It seems like that was the only time when I enjoyed the snow.  In later years, it has become more of a nuisance than a joy.  I suppose that man on the side of the road may feel the same way too.  He may have once, as a child, made snow angels in his backyard. But now as he stands in the bitter cold, the snow is just another curse to his destitute state.

on bitter cold days

the sun shines upon white snow

but leaves us no warmth

- Written for dVerse Haibun Monday #28 which challenges us to write a haibun about a childhood memory.  I had already thought about writing a poem about the snow and the destitute man I saw on my home from work (unfortunately not the first time).  Then I saw this prompt, started writing and this is where I landed.  I have heard people say that sometimes you focus on writing one way, but once you stop writing you find yourself in an entirely different place.  I believe this is one of those occasions for me.  

my least liked season

snow falls under moon

turning my heart into ice

my least liked season

the grass becomes white

I close my eyes and pretend

the trees are still green

and Spring never ceased

until snowflakes bring me back

to reality

- I am sure there are those who really like winter, but I am not one of those people.  I prefer much milder weather.  

curling hair

the girl watched her mother

stand before a mirror

taking her precious time

forming perfect curls

with her curling iron

so she could look pretty

in the world’s eyes

but the girl saw her

as a jewel that she 

was too blinded to see

- Written for dVerse Quadrille #23 in which we are to write a quadrille poem consisting of a total of 44 words, which includes the word "curl" in some form or another.