Archive for ‘Anita’

September 2, 2017

The Keeper

by Anita Lubesh

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I am the keeper of lost things,
those intangible imprints of wasted life,
destined to become the destroyer of goodness
and maker of sadness.

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March 23, 2017

Sunset Senses

by Anita Lubesh

sunset senses

I smile at sunset’s throng of small songbirds
singing out while nuzzling their nested fauna,
dreamily chirping ‘til sleep stills them.

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March 8, 2017

Lamplight

by Anita Lubesh

lamplight of soul.jpg

A soft lamplight of soul
clings, hidden in honeysuckle’s
straggly vine hollows,
it gives vacant worship
to the scented sprigs of omnipotence
traversing the climbing frame
permeating olfactory nerves –
aloof and untouched,
analogous to antenna.

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March 3, 2017

We Close our Eyes

by Anita Lubesh

cherry-frost

Above our head, hail forms, plummeting to pin prick curiosity
just as the jilted spring we foresaw disappears from view;
we crawl back to hide between the shadows of winter and yesterday.

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February 12, 2017

Coming Home

by Anita Lubesh

Quinton.png

From waterfalls to stepping stones, meandering
across history’s bones, I am halted by a sound,
the sound of mandolins.

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January 14, 2017

Such a Tiny Thing

by Anita Lubesh

snow-bird

Sing little bird,
fly overhead,
rest in the trees’
wavering breeze.
Lift the curtain high at dawn
let the flickering candles yawn.

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December 17, 2016

Love’s Fair Bounty

by Anita Lubesh

 

289px-vincent_van_gogh_-_moerbeiboom

What summer’s sad fair
wouldst have me grace thy lips rightly
without strokes of seduction?
Tantalising is it not when ripeness befits
us as hosts and we lay warmly against each?

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December 15, 2016

Piece by Piece ~ Christmas Poetry Challenge

by Anita Lubesh

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I can’t wait to be back home
where the cold mingles with the dawn
and water drips delicately down the pane
catching the chilled air that still smiles
with the sunshine –
it has no aching bones.

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October 18, 2016

The Raven

by Anita Lubesh

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Raven, black, atop a tree
Screamed religion spuriously
Bleak-black probed me; evil glee
Before I shot it dead

Raven crowned so hideously
In a dream he came to me
Pitch black, vacant eyes I see
Before he swooped on dread

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September 25, 2016

Silks (Quadrille)

by Anita Lubesh

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winter leans with content patience
in white silk – clandestine
matters cannot be hurried –

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September 9, 2016

Cardinal (Quadrille)

by Anita Lubesh

cardinal.pngPicture source: Sock Monkey

Quadrille poetry form = 44 words & red bird. Thank you monkey.

Sins that stain a royal perch
are preened like smooth, red
berries –

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August 31, 2016

Orchid

by Anita Lubesh

Poetry_Gathering_at_the_Orchid_Pavilion_(Hobara_Museum_of_History_and_Culture)

I was inspired by The Orchid Pavilion gathering of 353 CE which was a cultural and poetic event during the Six dynasties era, in China. The gentlemen (42 literati) had engaged in a drinking contest: rice-wine cups were floated down a small winding creek as the men sat along its banks; whenever a cup stopped, the man closest to the cup was required to empty it and write a poem. This was known as “floating goblets”.  In the end, twenty-six of the participants composed thirty-seven poems.

Wife, as my life fades with the closing
sun, weeds now overtake linen paths driven
into the wilderness,

I have no strength to fight them,
and soon you must walk this way alone
though my heart is warm still –

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August 26, 2016

Cedar Summer: late summer silhouette & whimsy

by Anita Lubesh

waxwing

I was inspired yet again by the fabulous, sock monkey.

for the Waxwing,
summer withers
sending the bare bones
of blooms to exit; their shift over

high up on defoliated twigs,
these sturdy spires become crows nests –
for one last look at sparse reminders
and stark remainders

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August 23, 2016

Taste of Citrus

by Anita Lubesh

lemons.jpg

Under
a flat ledge,
in a garden view of lemon
groves – inscribed zest is
tickled by the scent of
interlopers wound under a single
helix of Nottingham green;

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August 22, 2016

Beseech

by Anita Lubesh

 boat and apricot tree.JPG

Minute poetry form.

wouldst thou call upon love’s embrace
her cuffs of lace
will wrap warmly
and surround thee

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August 16, 2016

Suspension

by Anita Lubesh

boat

The shallow draught
of a flat bottomed,
open skiff drifts alone,
moving with its shadow
cross hatched
onto the vitreous water,
vying with the spirits that pour
across the bay.
As moonlight dresses them
they are reanimated –
proclaiming –
they would provoke our eyes
and enliven our dreams.

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August 8, 2016

Crumpled Life

by Anita Lubesh

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Life becomes a cascading nightmare
eerily hushed when those severed tears are
free flowing.

Arms wrap around stained bundles
of ruby red wine, blue grass and lipstick
pink collars.

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August 6, 2016

Popple

by Anita Lubesh

ripples.jpg

Ripples carry songs
outward to beyond –
culminating at the edges
in a crescendo
that is too abrupt;
nothing is diminished,
no tune is lost
inside its bracketed echoes,
chiming molecules
and gentle undulations

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August 5, 2016

Mad, Sad, Bad

by Anita Lubesh

one syllable poem: poetry challenge


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The call of the wild
is like death in the night.
Bleak shots ring out
in the air full with howls
let loose like doves,
but it soaks them up,

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August 3, 2016

Absolute: Zen

by Anita Lubesh

Inspired by things to do by Leonard Durso

Is it the wind ‘s form
that makes the sound of
the clouds?

Listen for those
invisible things
craved,
elusive;
out of reach
to those of us
that remain
out of touch
with ourselves.

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August 1, 2016

Poet for Peace

by Anita Lubesh

 

dove.png

Voices drown out hate
no people torn asunder
doves of peace keep watch

 

We have 100 contributions to date, and I am trying again to rope in as many contributors to the Poets for Peace challenge (in place until this the end of August). The many voices in response to this have been fantastic, and I’d love you to add yours (again, if applicable) if you can. Feel free to use an existing piece of writing or a new one asking for peace and/or about the troubled times in which we live.

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July 29, 2016

Haeddre

by Anita Lubesh

 

heddir

 

i
It is fine to be in balance, to hear wistful
cries like invisible veins in the winds,
and see lucky, white strands amongst
the heather’s Scottish highlands type
of sobbing, and to listen as the wind speaks
in gusts; inhaling deeply as if sucking
up a thought before breathing it out
smoothly in a musical phrase.

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July 29, 2016

Showing Barney

by Anita Lubesh

Picture (SWNS)

2dolphins.png

Sea blue sky was surf unbroken
above playful cause within
the order of cetaceans –
strokes of teal skim waters

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July 26, 2016

The Leaf

by Anita Lubesh

for leaf poem.jpg

Slow motion’s gentle
breath is on the breeze;
shivers of tantalising
promises deftly stroke
light hearted manner
at play,

lifting skirts for sun
to find faith in greenery
suspended from charm.
Youthful, tenacious,
innocence and naive,
hand span characteristics,
hide in clenched fists,

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July 21, 2016

With Rigid Arrow

by Anita Lubesh

rigid arrow.png

Will the brash beat
of these drums
send shivering flames
to the gods?
Will forsaking my invisible
others bring them down on me
still at odds?
Precarious is this war
of love.

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July 10, 2016

Cuckoo’s Tears

by Anita Lubesh

Cuculus_canorus_chick1

do not cry and spoil
such beauty – you will never fade
into darkness and its glades
as long as there is the moonlight,
so weep no more,

nor cry for the death
of dew drops,
lying broken; coursing

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July 7, 2016

Missing Infra Red Filter

by Anita Lubesh

Video post by @The_Photonomad.

This beautiful video inspired my write. First seen on The Photo Nomad’s blog – check out the amazing photography while you’re at it. Video shot and cut by Philip Bloom.

Source: The Missing Infrared Filter

Blue-grey steel’s cigar belly glides
ever so slowly rubbing against harsh,
smoky skies,
the passenger jet’s roar and metallic
greying temples are oblivious to the removal
of barriers
slowing to 33 and a third –
in harmony,
as if Beethoven’s 7th (2nd movement)
permeating our fibres
was a summons to a world temporarily
captured by an invisible lens – within it
an easy going dreamscape lie is being
created.
Muted walks on pavements, carpeted
with tufts of individualism, create
one of surrealism’s manifestations – filling
the landscape with a strangeness,
the mystery of someone’s characteristic
dream.
  like a
    solemn
      metronome
        finger,
          adrift
            on the timbre
              of a
                masterpiece’s
                  voice –
                    our tempo
                      is dictated
                        to by
                          its orchestral
                            maneuvers
                              dispersed
                                in
                                  waves.
                                    
Our collective gait is held in an unrushed,
undemanding control of invisible music
and in a lens’ long lashing,
hard kohl eye. We are observed.

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July 7, 2016

Samsara

by Anita Lubesh

samsarapic.png

‘Since everything and all existence is connected’
then we will always be, and so, we will always
have you.

Kneeling on the dying repercussions
of an autumn caught just within the colder
breath and tentative icy touches of winter –
its fruition yet to unfurl –

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