Posted in Bosom Friends

blossom friends

I.

When God made friends

He must be thinking of flowers

with lovely colors and

splendid scents.

II.

Flowers grow from seeds

that sprout from the ground;

friendships abound

because of kind deeds.

III.

Flowers are pretty and

charming, too —

friends make days blue

a little sunny.

IV.

When God sowed seeds

Flowers grew…

me and you

among the weeds.

.

Ruth Mostrales

August 3, 2009

Posted in Uncategorized

One Book

I’ve always believed I’d save enough for that one book.

I have moved the others and bequeathed it space.

No other book can usurp that place, no.

No other hand can encumber.

Let no one buy that book of mine.

Let no one share that little space.

Some books come and go with the

wear and tear, but not here —-

let time not change its face.

rvm

2010

Posted in court of reverie, minstrel in me, rants

sentimentality

Cyber Garage Sale

when i start getting rid of things,
i keep some more that i shouldn’t:

like when i say i will throw a box
of letters away, i end up keeping
the box and then what’s inside;

like when i say i will give my yellow
books away, i end up covering
them with all-new, shiny garb;

like when i say i will put my old
clothes away, i end up wearing them
for the last time to relive the then;

when i start getting rid of things,
they cling to me, and i oblige.

Posted in Love Poems, The plea of the old melody...

A Token from the Sailor Lost

photo from http://www.nzhistory.net.nz/media/photo/sea-shanties

I must give my lady a token
For the last one I sent was broken
A bottle of the sea to her from me
Was spilled on the sand irreverently.

She greatly despised the ocean and me
For she longed for a little flower reverie
She did not wish to keep the bottled sea
And the waves that stole the wonder in me.

It was a lovely day and the sea, warm
When its limbs attacked me without alarm
From its depths I’ve spoken her name aloud
But my voice was eaten by the ocean shroud.

From underneath the sea, can flowers ever be?
I can’t plant a flower garden for her glee
May she find another dreamer to serenade her with a lily
from this sea, and set me free.

(c) Ruth Mostrales, June 2010

Posted in court of reverie, Love Poems, minstrel in me

I said “I have shut my heart” by Sarah Teasdale

I said, “I have shut my heart”
As one shuts an open door,
That Love may starve therein
And trouble me no more.”

But over the roofs there came
the wet new wind of May,
And a tune blew up from the curb
Where the street pianos play.

My room was white with the sun
And Love cried out in me,
“I am strong, I will break your heart
Unless you set me free.”

Posted in Fun Rhymes

It Must Be The Cake

red ribbon blueberry cheesecake
It must be the cake this morning
and the garnishings on top
that have caused much of the
aching of my selfish part.

When dear prudence said,
“Not too much, not too much…” —
it wasn’t listening.

It must be the cake this morning
and putting too much garnishings on top.

rvm
june 16 2010

Posted in Hope, Paean of Praise

Ordinary Great Day

It’s an ordinary day, too ordinary,

but it’s a great day to praise the Lord.

I woke up, I ate my breakfast and I said,

“Hello…” to the guard.

Though run-off-the-mill, un-extraordinary,

it’s a great day to praise the Lord.

I do not seek miracles to stun me,

(I’ve seen enough done in my life);

but if God’s grace exceeds expectations

again, in my heart, there’s room for enough.

But today is an ordinary day, and nothing

seemed to happen… I smiled at familiar faces

that responded in familiar ways — those things

that we do without even thinking, like blinking.

But all in all you could call it an ordinary day —

an ordinary great day to praise the Lord.

Though others complain, I am constrained

That it’s the best day to praise the Lord.

Posted in Uncategorized

Lost and Found Inquiry

seas rivers mountains ballads
mornings evenings skies salads
cheaters criers lampposts death
debts salvation rodents breadth
blood gore blades armors
corpses killings flowers floors
laughing singing nothings refrains
humming praising sniffs quatrains
princesses dragons Rilke Frost
lovers angels Dickinson Faust
critics editors telefax tunes
grocery shrubbery icy dunes
prayers Jesus crossings joy
letters pages circus toy
wishing dreaming eating time —
the notebook sounds like mine.

ruth mostrales
6:53 PM
april 18, 2010

Posted in Uncategorized

The Lion’s Den

“Let’s fight corruption!” the billboard appeared to
yell, but it didn’t have a mouth, nor the people
the ears. They are ready to partake of the day’s

raw — fierce looking and dignified, as they divide
the day’s plunder. They scare only the uninitiated.
Except for the peso signs on their eyes, they’re

just like us, able to read that billboard now and
then, though rarely affected with pangs of guilt or
visitations of the moral ought. Somewhere in

those offices a poor man empties his pocket to
buy justice, but he will lose a limb again, as the
well-oiled ones bring home the bacon because

they paid more.