Monday, August 10, 2015

Mimi and Mona Poetry: My Pentagon Chamber

Everyone has one, or should have one. Here are my thoughts on my own.

©My Pentagon Chamber
Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved

Surely it was only the breeze
rustling the branches outside,
ruffling my notebook’s pages
as I sat on the window seat
at the easternmost end
facing another window.

A poet’s loft. Honestly,
more a euphemism
since it was the attic—
one enclosed in glass—
over a desert adobe where
sunrise drew my heart north.

This pentagon chamber,
bright and cheery by day,
serene and sensual by night
with its dark veil
at every side, in every corner,
became my own bower.

Sunday, August 9, 2015

Mimi-Mona Poetry: Silent Sunday at Dawn

Sometimes I get dreamy and love thoughts increase. Sometimes I write the poems you read here. Sometimes the poems write themselves. Or, maybe the words come from the dreams I have in that space of time when I first come to conscious thinking but before my eyes open. The following poem wrote itself; then again, maybe it was from the luscious dream I had this morning.

©Silent Sunday at Dawn
Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved

Stars that surfeited the sky
lose their brilliance
when the sun peeks
over the desert’s horizon.
A warm breeze whispers
through the Piru Queen palms
outside my chamber’s glass
and it’s like my lover’s breath
that teases the fine hairs
at my nape when his head
bows to kiss my bare shoulders.