Farmers markets

Formula shopping
taking a break
to touch, feel, talk
bountiful sights
encourage a break
stir up sensibilities

Farmers markets
baskets with strawberry
luscious and anticipative
the onion skins itself
on the cobbled walkway
pleasingly purple and crisp
fried potato’s lean into
the air,a concoction
of self-indulgent treats
pancake stalls make concessions
to pointless chatter, families
tugging at heart-strings
relishing the bubbling maple

Farmers markets

in tryst with life
clutching to the earth
yielding yet to it

ready to serve at the altar
of homes, fragrance, color, texture

to become stories

 

Garage sales
luck and love on shelves
discovery and dramatics
rehearsed negotiation
observation of flaws
each piece an attestation
to letting go, each selection
a proof of usefulness
things, offer an ever evolving
attachment paradigm

 

Garage sales

the baby crib was
not a need, after
the miscarriage
the picnic basket
rattled with laughter
from memorable trips
the painting packed
because their home
was on short sale
the jacket , a swag
from marathon events, monogrammed
before he took to
the wheelchair
the baking set served
kitchen tables with love
the brooch pinned fur collars
now sat next to a boxed watch
wondering if someone would pause
the golf clubs erect with pride
having served many practice holes
the silverware collection
still flawless as it reflected
curious finger marks
the wedding veil
carefully beaded with a fringe
a small tear, that corner
where the father of the bride
had clumsily stepped upon

Garage sales

treasures, tears and thoughts
fragile in hope
quivering in readiness
to move on

retrace steps, redesign lives
and offering themselves

to not be things

Twenty tournaments

Since that moment when you left us

with

the world beneath our feet
and its many broken parts
like crumpled sheafs of paper
fragrance in your closets
neither here nor there
scabs on our heart skins
rubbing hope into each other
instead, dripping voids

Trying to illuminate
Twenty tournaments

Counting twenty tournaments
Still bidding farewell

to our life
the queasy stomach
and shaky voice
narrative memory
in longing words
mystified, repetitive efforts

purposeful
our search for hope
well tried yet opaque
voices in prayer
and stoic silences, stunned
seemingly, collectively
in free fall

It has been a while

since the storm, yet
recovery ever in progress

Twenty tournaments

 

When does God make his plan for pairs?

Why do you let me dream unfettered?

Where did you learn your patience?

How can someone promise forever ever?

Which role do you relish the most?

What makes you want to talk to me?

 

When did you bring tenderness to your songs?

Why do I need you when I cry?

Where do you hide the sound of my laugh?

How do you stay sure at all times?

Which book translated you for you?

What anchors you in us?

 

When did you start to seek the beyond?

Why does the night stall in your arms?

Where did you abandon the ego?

How will you handover a legacy in diligence?

Which mantra enables your clarity?

What definition of duty will you author?

 

Will you always be the spring to my winter?

Will you discover me at the cusp of every life?

They sat to break a breath, at that corner

His silver hair gleamed in a ponytail

She held herself steady at the waist

They leaned forward again, to speak in murmurs

 

He recalled footsteps that had been firmer

She clutched his arm as she stood in pain

Purposefully, nudging pebbles into a pattern

They sat to break a breath, at that corner

 

His accumulated medals adorned walls

He drew his life in trace lines on a map

Trembling scribbles of traveled lanes

His silver hair gleamed in a ponytail

 

Her character spoke through her distinct tastes

She wove the scent of flowers into her colorful throws

Beading baubles on laughter strings

She held herself steady at the waist

 

Their cherished story is of the party with drummers

They relish their tea as much as arguing over theories

The vastness and vigor that has been acquired together

They lean forward again, to speak in murmurs

 

 

We chase conversations,

Crunching bags of eager peanuts

You dust promises

into spaces between cracked shells

Together we jostle dreams

settling into scattered skin and chaff

Smiling in acknowledgment

Symbiotic glances, like peanut and salt

Bringing stories together

Nutty anecdotes coated in toasty flavors

Seeds break out of their comfort

Nostalgic taste punctuating sentences

Memories become escapades

Smacking salt off our fingers

Relishing a kernel routine

Collecting moments in papery skins

You stoke the fireplace

Empty the sack of  remnants

Crumbling husk settles cautiously

On book jackets and baskets of wool

Before we retreat into ourselves

A cheerful aroma lingers behind

 

 

revisiting tchotchke

gaudy colors and tacky textures

strung on tree branches, sitting on shelves

that magnet, the lanyard, those peg measures

toy story like, alive in dreams and adventures

crowding dresser table tops,pinned on scruffy coat lapels

whispering in hesitant shapes, stories and verses

finding tchotchke

a book stand spills over, hiding predictably, in the corner store

repeated shapes, swag statements, in sterile trade fair tents

rows of bling, functional snine, in online carts

logo on a badge, randomness in gifts, editions galore

pretending mutual admiration, promoting collective pretense

aspiring to stockpile connections, that are scrambling and sparse

synthesizing tchotchke

memorabilia, from visits and vistations

finger print stains that glare, nostalgic festivities and cake spills

unwrapping butter paper, conversations on fireplace mantels

mass produced wobbles, incredible yet imitations

catering to inane corporations, employee affiliation at will

redefining tchotchke

mocking each other, emoji like, tentative trinkets

nudge for space, tweet like, on the study ledge

hide in drawers, snapchat like, dead space nuggets

today

at the bazaar, i shop souvenirs

isolation burnout, emotions at risk

i look for and at, faces not shelves

i strain to hear, voices not bells

i engage in kind words, catalogued as exhibits

i try to fortify connections, rehearsing their pledge

simply tchotchke

the world over, worldly wise, treasures

like rehearsed memories

my tchotchke stood their space, anticipating my free fall

glittering remanants, that slip and stall

as I drift into the mundane and grime

of my daily abyss

enshrined tchotchke

i start to bag, as debris

then,

stop and surrender, and see

years, tears and smiles

symbols of traveled miles

in blushing souvenors – you may mock

 but I will flaunt, again, my daunting collection of tchotchke

*an inexpensive showy trinket(Yiddish)

 

 

 

 

 

sandcastles in the sun
are you willing to call it fun?
sandcastles with a moat
does creativity flourish by rote?
sandcastles that glisten pride
may i match the depth of your stride?
sandcastles sculpted with bare handed care
will you knead my heart with similar flare?
sandcastles that repair and replenish
can the aquamarine mirror my tears with similar flourish?
sandcastles that hold secrets in tunnels
why does your touch curdle the blood in my funnels?
sandcastles embellished with starfish and seashells
how you indulge me when I need your shoulder to dwell?
sandcastles with minarets that towards the morning rays rise
are you my embrace before the change of tide?
sandcastles disseminate with the setting sun
would you be the shadow to my tan before it burns?
sandcastles hold rivulets in careful streams
will your arms be the dam to my drowning dreams?
sandcastles caressing the air with the turrets
why do you enchant me with your footprints playing a concert?

you lay hapless, sterile, quite wanting a hug!

at that moment there was a mother sending a firm message to you and to Him

nothing doing, get your act together

no unclear terms

not another time

she was in control, would have it no other way

He knew it was not going to be easy to cross her path

I gave you your warm hug, you smiled your usual silent way

urging wellness to you always..

 

Swimsuits

Are supposedly a shame
The rapturousness of my shape is to blame
Your stupid cannot be called naive
My good looks are suspended on a spine stubbornly brave
Nauseatingly, you judge modesty by my pose
Forever the shrill of your voice excused as an overdose
My legs bask vivaciously as they speak to the sand
For god’s sake, choke that maniacal rant
black and beauty, sea and sanity can seamlessly align
broken record , your opinion pitch is a whine
Swan like my neck rises caressingly above my breasts
I gave you no permission to declare a moral debate-fest
Curled in my recline, radiant in love
Unabashed grace , no wetsuit or kid gloves
Enveloped in salt water spray, allure of nature in an orgy

reverence strikes, my siesta aborted

I witness being abducted into depraved dress code theories

Glaring headlights, squinting into eyes

Graduation, a mile marker – one you can amortize

Roadblocks, accidental speed pause

Road-ready, you navigate sharp turns with an applause

Afghan like colorful crocheted, dales and fields

Anchored steady, yielding spiritedly to odds and ordeals

Driving impaired, compulsively through emergency stops

Dean’s speech focus, stimulating you towards detours and mike drops

Upbeat songs, humming the soundtrack of split second decisions

Unfolding precautious dreams, you now march intoxicated towards a mission

Architectural views of cities, mirage-like on trip detours

Applause-worthy your persistence, a seatbelted ability to endure

Treats stocked, tires inflated, fuel fed momentum

Tiptoe’ing with surety, you etch an unfettered confidence spectrum

Exit tracks and turnpikes rivulet through diverse landscapes

Empowered, standing resilient to headwinds, eager quests you self-shape

Graduate through life, cruise driving at a consistent pace

Chashm-e-baddoor, through highs and lows stay in His embrace!