Evening Drinks
A warm cup of milk
is out of place on the tray
between two bottles.
—
– orha writes
Night
Overnight – A Haiku
Overnight
It’s gotten so late,
even the stars have shut their eyes
in the blue blanket.
—
– orha writes
Watching Fireworks – Fifty Word Story
Under the explosive light of fireworks, I see groups huddled on checkered blankets. The violet-reds and neon-greens reflect in their eyes as though for a moment they had that majesty inside them. As though they were made up of light and color and fire, and even the darkness in between.
——
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High at the Honnold Library – A Poem
High at the Honnold Library
The world stretched out like taffy.
I slipped out of my stream of mind
down the river of the study room
into the sea of eternity.
Thousands of books floated like boats
bound to their docks of wooden shelves,
and I stumbled around the port
searching for the right sized vessel.
I untethered one to take sailing,
a thin, worn title by Hesse
about others who’d rowed through time
without a mast or a compass.
The pages turned like water
beneath my little life-boat,
each sentence like a pale star
bobbing in the current of my self.
When I felt the tide coming in
the book slid from my tired hands
as the rhythm of the ocean
sang me to a saltwater dream.
——
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LOVE POEM #135 – Croissant
Croissant
Those savory flakes of French crust,
folded with layers of butter
(stuffed, occasionally, with sweets)
were once how I saw our affair,
but as you retreat through the door,
I recall that the translation
mirrors the sliver moonlight
as she recedes into nothing.
——
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Courageous Cat (and Other Haikus)
Dusty
I glide my finger
across the dusty table
drawing a clean line.
Night Light
The beacon of light
in the deep sea of darkness
guides me to the loo.
Watchers
The empty-eyed doll
stares at me from the counter
as I sit and write.
Mouth Washed
The taste of hand soap
scrapes like sand against my tongue
to expunge the dirt.
Courageous Cat
Sparked by adventure,
he journeys into my room,
then bolts when I move.
——
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The Red Eye – A Poem
Hey there, I took a break from the music series this week to write a poem that’s been nagging me since I woke up.
The Red Eye
From the windows of the wet plane
I see a white bird migrating
away from its spring time meadows
in the sanctity of midnight.
I wonder if it, too, wields
the fire of a red dragon
waiting for its feathers to burn
to a set of bloody scales.
I wonder if its heavy wings
are waiting for the chance to spread
or if its watery brow steams
beneath the hard rains of the storm
and from my small leather backed seat
confined to sit with the people
who looked for their peace in the sky
I wonder why he doesn’t dive to safety.
——
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MUSIC SERIES – The Little Things
This poem was inspired by Yellow by Coldplay. Think there’s a song you think I should write about? Let me know in the comments!
The Little Things
like splashing by a sunlit lake,
or sketching pictures after dawn;
like shining painted yellow cups,
or pointing out a starry night
are how the shapes of memories
are framed in mental photographs.
——
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FIFTY WORD STORY – Sneaking
Sneaking is a favorite pastime of the shadows. They blend themselves between the shade like a streak of black paint, dematerializing until unsuspecting simpletons, as they call them, walk through their space. Then, they like to play a prank. Knocking keys, picking pockets, and catching coattails, just for a reaction.
—
Hey there!
I had to post this away from home today, so I don’t have my normal closing! Check my stuff out if you like it. 🙂
Drinking in the Moonlight
Taking a short break from the Music Series this week. We’ll be back at it next week. Happy Memorial Day
Drinking in the Moonlight
That’s really all I have to say.
Sitting under this umbrella
in a simply woven, brown chair
looking up at the summer stars
wondering about my whiskey;
how the ice cubes clink the edges
of the shimmering crystal glass
and how warm the wind’s caress is.
——
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orha writes 