The light

mid-march, the light

a feverish wound
inside my eyes

burning the end
of a story
I took all winter to write

Spring in Goscieradz: Leon Wyczolkowski

I am the New Autumn

I am the new autumn that will not disrobe my trees,
what perversion requires such debauched rhythms?

What new life must be wrought by denying the old,
can’t we tempt the sun to adopt our bespoke rituals?

Remember the spring we dreamt up unseen colours and
our rainbows wore more than seven bands, what

happened that you now denude that spectrum and crave
bare silhouettes pressed against silent nights? There

are still hues beneath my fingernails where they dug
into the painted flesh of that last summer. I am the

autumn that cannot let go and face a monochrome winter,
why does love have to change and fall before each rising?

The Roses Tonight

the roses tonight
trembling in the cool spring breeze
huddled together

huddled together
reading Rumi by candlelight
tasting the wine

tasting the wine
in the throat of the melting sky
burgundy sunset

burgundy sunset
smeared in your brooding eyes
tugging at your smile

tugging at your smile
perfumed verses from her lips
the roses tonight

First View

pink heads bent,
cherry blossoms watch
the soft arch
of her neck;
perfect beauty glides in silk
for spring’s first viewing

(In Shadorma 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllable format)


So obsessed
by sakura
this spring,
I curse
the bright sunlight
in my upturned gaze.
The sun
we prayed for
all winter
with eyes tightly shut.

Poetweet: Exactly 140 characters long including spaces and punctuation.
April:#11- 06/30


Her petite hands
wove many-hued dreams
as he walked away
in chilly silence.
Winter was gone.
A glorious sun
wondered at
spring’s moist eyes.

Poetweet: Exactly 140 characters long including spaces and punctuation.

Posted in 3WW Week No. 420 (Prompts: Chilly, Glorious, Petite)