on a dreaded sunny day

“on a dreaded sunny day”


a butterfly

or two, or many


appearing, there


I glanced

a white one fluttering near a new bloom

a red one darting across my forward path

a blue one dead upon the tarmac 


so beautiful

in light, in shadow


sojourning, there


I observed

one immersed in “wild ecstasy”

another driven to “mad pursuit”

the last finally in “beauty’s truth”


a world in need

of pause, of presence 


transforming, there


I became


*inspired by English poet John Keats and English rock band The Smiths


March is for International Women’s&Poetry Day

I missed honoring both March 8 and March 21, but here is a poem I wrote about the moon which I feel symbolizes and commemorates both:

written 01.31.18 – revised on 03.19.18

On the eve of the blood moon, I ponder the Moon and her maternity. Tonight, a mischievous light bathes the Earth, a pink hue pervading the darkness to come. Nature, in all her forms, swells in birth of the Evening’s dawn – birds sound their choruses, roosters preen and peck, flowers stretch as light fades…And now the remaining light bends: blue refracts outward, while red oozes forth, a bloody soldier staining the field in the name of universal beneficence.  


The moon appears

A yellow orb swelling

Like a woman’s bulge


I feel her aches and pains

Her craters endured

Her majesty underestimated


She looks a barren mistress yet

She wields a powerful will

To pull the tides and push the winds


The moon mirrors

A yellow sun’s burning

Like raindrops reflect a rainbow


I feel her yearnings and desires

Her beauty broadcast

Her duty bound


She looks an autonomous ornament yet

She is caught in a cyclical cycle

To wane into darkness and wax into remembrance


Once, a child, torn from the womb of Earth’s soil

Now Queen over the unruly oceans and womankind

They are captives of her recurrent spells

Chained to sails, driven by the winds she controls

A mad mother of circular caprice


Also, an outcast, tethered to her own fated toil

Only to tour the Earth’s outer rim for eternity

Constantly reminding those wells of

Earthbound creatures, who covet the role of controls

She is no more sovereign than her subjects

Small Creatures

Time is but a shadow, moved by light.


I sit outside upon shaded tiles

Arranged like a mosaic of the mind

Messy symmetry, oblong shapes


I see zigzagging ants

Lizards scuttling up walls

A green bug camouflaged as a leaf


I watch restless gnats

Butterflies fluttering through air

A slug shaped like a tamarind rind


I observe them, thoughtfully

All of these little organisms

Roaming around my physical form


I try to sit erect, try to meditate

So many thoughts, small creatures

Crawling around in my brain space


I let them go, let them crawl

Curiously observing their paths

Their avoidances, their obsessions


Thoughts materialize

Spin into other thoughts

Create patterns of thoughts

Of sticky, clingy attachments that

Lodge in the cobwebs of my consciousness


My thoughts zigzag through my brain’s curvatures

An intricate maze

Feelings scurry like lizards

Up the walls of my consciousness

Vying for position, trying to gain the advantage


My thoughts are restlessly competing

They flaunt their beautiful reasonings

The habitual ones more attractive, more overpowering in size

Some, lie dormant, a dried out slug

Who hasn’t been nourished, therefore hasn’t grown


I breathe in, I breathe out

My breath like medicine

Breaths that transfer new molecules in and out of the body

Expanding and releasing


Creepy, crawly feelings

Squirm for my attention

Generating a illusory storyline

Of repeating, familiar frames that

Project onto the canvas of my consciousness


I return focus, I readjust

My mind like the clouds

Water particles that create clusters of whimsical white wisps

Morphing and fading


Mental formations, fleeting

Foreign voices, conversing

In a language, I do not understand

Under a time condition, I cannot fathom

Yet still entangled in the same cycle of life and death


I think yet I am not satisfied

Therefore I take another sip and

I am reminded of the impermanence of it all

Here one moment and gone to the next


Verse, word, perceived desire

Taste, smell, anticipated sound

Hyper-aware of not being aware

Unable to see, to define, to know

To discern with my deluded judgement


Monkey mind making a racket

Ricocheting in its cage

So I repeat the mantra

   This is not mine

   This I am not

   This is not my self


I open my eyes, senses, heart

Everything submerged in a bath of light

Greeting the present as a gift


I spread gratitude towards those small creatures

Running topsy-turvy, to and fro

Unconsciously changing and dissipating


I smile despite impermanence 

Basking in this ephemeral mood

The sun calls to me, lifts me


I stand aboard my ship

Courage as tall as the mast

Curiosity as wide as the sails

No one knows how far it goes


What small creatures will I observe

In this next moment

And what will they crawl to mind?