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

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

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.

A Token from the Sailor Lost

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

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.”

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