Mary-Eliz May 16
She saw a flower, sensitive plant of my garden
She saw a flower, sensitive plant of my garden
it was the warmest, sunniest morning
it was the warmest, sunniest morning
Warmest of garden, it saw a flower in the morning
sensitive, she was my sunniest plant


The wind is blowing from west over the river
The wind is blowing from west over the river
The sky turns dark above the mountains
The sky turns dark above the mountains
The west wind turns, is blowing over the mountains
From the river above the dark sky


The city far away, the buildings tall
The city far away, the buildings tall
Disguise the green fields beyond the crowds
Disguise the green fields beyond the crowds
The tall fields, the green buildings
Disguise the crowds beyond the far away city                                  


The tall mountains, the fields, the sky above                              
saw a disguise of crowds over city buildings                                                        ­                
my morning, it was the sunniest beyond the west                                                             ­             
The green river she turns dark                                                             ­                               
The warmest wind is blowing from far away                      
Plant the sensitive flower in the garden
Paradelle: a form that was first presented by Billy Collins as an Old French form. He fessed up later that he had created the form. It is complicated but a good challenge!

When Collins first published the paradelle, it was with the footnote "The paradelle is one of the more demanding French fixed forms, first appearing in the langue d'oc love poetry of the eleventh century. It is a poem of four six-line stanzas in which the first and second lines, as well as the third and fourth lines of the first three stanzas, must be identical. The fifth and sixth lines, which traditionally resolve these stanzas, must use all the words from the preceding lines and only those words. Similarly, the final stanza must use every word from all the preceding stanzas and only these words."
you were the one
with broken feathers
dashing along with the sea
falling purposely
coasting among the
warm winds exposed
by the shades dipped in gold
hiding behind everything
that glows
abiding by the forgotten memory that flows.
© rainbows and sunshine 2018
Ooolywoo Oct 2016
I LOVE MYSELF
With all my flaws
In my Beautifulness,
In my mistakes,
In my weakness,
In my darkness.
I love myself, because I am worth it.
I am a high power person who can move mountains with my love, thoughts and dreams
I am good, kind, funny, full of life and love, contagious with my explosive energy
Some things may be equally essential but nothing is more important than loving oneself
And at this moment the love I have for myself goes above and beyond.
It could reach the end of the universe if I just unwrap it
I love me in my inane, craziest, sanest, beautiful twisted, darkest and funniest way
I love me in a way that no one does
I love me in my fullest woes
I am everything that I can and will be
I am frightfully proud of my flaws and proudly wearing them as no one is perfect
This is the start of a new journey to me
The journey of love and self acceptance
The journey to fully embrace and value my own self
I allow myself to fall in my stupidest and biggest way, just to get back up and catch my breath again
Failure will not stop me but make me stronger
I am fully seeing me and smiling at my imperfected and distorted reflection
Hugging myself so tightly, refusing to let go
The more I am spending time with me,
The more and more my love grows
Is it bad for my health ? I do not think so.
It’s true, I am better, happier, more free, powerful, at peace
The sun is shining on me
I don’t need no help to be beautiful, ‘cause I’ve got me
I’ve got that uncontainable light from within me
I am smoldering a treasure, sharing laughter, joy and sadness with myself
I have learnt the phases of myself
So distant from that little insecure girl I used to know
As I allow her opinions to matter
I have accepted her difference
Her different kind of beauty, I have learned to love
This feeling of wholeness, self acceptance, comfort and love, is liberating
I wrap myself around my contorted and beautiful else to form a ME
As I am, Raw and Real
Sondering Jul 3
Oh, human; so many types of you,
I could not fathom my fate if I were to
long so much, work so hard and obtain so little,
facing the sun while
straddling the moon like you do.
You like to be irresistible in every
single, tiny little thing you do, don't you;
from the way you part your lips and smile,
to the way you hold out your rough, aching hands towards me,
planting a tender kiss on my forehead
and asking for my soul in return.
You like to stir up my mind, imploring one thing with me
but then diverging off to explore a
whole entirely different one altogether,
all alone and cold, dripping white glistening
trails of stars all over my arms.
You are always telling me that you need time
to forgive yourself,
to forgive the shards of broken, diamond glass
you pull out of your pockets
and hurl at the ground you tread on,
forgive the blood red roses and green tangled thorns
you wear a top of your head,
blood trickling down curls of ivory hair,
like streaks of winter cherries
flowing down to your shoulders.
They say you like to dance,
stomping all over paradise with
black, jagged leather boots,
and whirling mountains around your fit torso,
gripping the blowing wind
in your arms and forcing it to carry you
as gigantic as you are,
because other things need to
experience oppression too.
Suddenly you are explosively loud when you
claim you're okay/alright,
like those few words hold captive your purpose
of existing beneath the stars,
when all you ever wanted was to be one.
And when you're laughing in your bed,
legs tangled with evergreen whips of dried woven grass,
chest hidden underneath a blanket of cool, violet-blue dawns,
the sight of you is so beautiful and painfully wretched
that I am torn over just laying down with you
or hurdling you off my mountain of life.
If there ever was such a confusion
that loved so passionately, breathed so calmly,
and raged so defiantly
at the mere thought of just existing,
it would be such a creature
as a human.
07/02/18
km Jul 8
The voices in my head, brought me to this place
A gloomy surrounding, everything looking lifeless and sad
I question myself, “Why am I here?”
But as I look ahead, I see a beautiful mountain; covered in fluffy snow,
Almost looking like the clouds.
Now, I am yearning to see the mountain up close,
But how do I get to see the best view?
With no one around, not even animals
Who do I go for, for advice?

I continue to look and walk around,
Still clueless, not sure what has drawn me to go on this journey
“It’s only a mountain,”
I tell myself.
Trying to figure out where the voices in my head came from
My mind is blocked
Can’t think straight or
See clearly
Everything is a blur.

Could this possibly be a dream?
I continue on with this journey
Trying my best to find a way to get to the snowy mountains
Tired and lifeless,
I pass out in the middle of nowhere
Flashbacks start to come
You were the voice in my head
Your harsh words,
Harsh words that brought me into this dark place
Left me feeling helpless and burdened
I get up and try to find a way out

Here I am standing, standing where I began
Looking at the mountain,
From where I’m standing, I question myself:
“Which way do I go?”
There’s the stream
A stream that’s aligned with the mountain
And the mountains with a path cleared out
Directing me to the snowy mountain.

The voices in my head
Preventing me from moving forward,
Drowning me with sadness.
The longer I’m here,
The more it overwhelms me
I’ve got to get out of here.
old letters  postcards  color slides
entries in diaries  drafts
of letters maybe never sent
fill boxes after boxes after boxes
left to me by my parents and their ancestors

going through them
I sort out letters  documents certificates
prayer books with scribbles on the margins
school grades  awards  old birthday wishes

of all the photographs I only keep the ones
on which I recognize the faces
those of the strangers I have never known
     and never will
I ditch
together with the many color slides
of mountains I have never climbed
     and never will
and of my parents friends whom I don‘t know
     and never will
with whom they somewhere spent good times

all these were part of my dear parents universe

in my world they mean nothing
have no significance beyond allowing me
to glimpse selected moments of the lives of those
who‘ve come before me and have gone
disappearing quietly
     into the mists of history

leaving blurred views
      as through a frosted window
about their pleasures  loves  anxieties  
catastrophies and tragedies

     enough to tease imagination
     too pale for certainties

hints from the past
Nyl Jun 2015
I was sitting in my porch
Forgot that dreams run on roads
I'm a withering flower
My bloom has not started;
yet it ended so soon
And the lines of the years
were drawn on my face
I believe that it is not too late
But what else can I add on this pallete

Age added up, my friend
I am just beginning to realize
That all people who I'm with
are all walking ahead of me
I wish I had took the first step
When it was needed long ago

Wish me luck on my journey
Maybe, I will not be able to climb mountains anymore
But what matters most,
is that I walked with those who are behind me before
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