The End of Eden

The End of Eden”Eve

Eve offered it to Adam: “Take a bite!”

Meanwhile, the devil wormed his slimy way

into the apple’s core and out of sight.

“Hey, Eve, where did you find this fruit today?”

My friend, the snake, said ‘eat it’ and I did.”

As Eve complained her stockings had a run,

poor Adam tasted evil that was hid.

They say the silkworm had such enterprise

began as root of fashion in his day.

And was a way the devil could devise

to cost poor Adam all his daily pay.

Oh, Eden’s lost; our hero’s doomed they say

when Eve did stitch a fig leaf round his bay.

 

 

“The Gift”

How may I give you

my unconditional love?

Pent-up, it is difficult.

Placed in this small box

it presses hard and escapes

this tsunami in my soul.

The Sodoka (a pair of Katauka) is a single poem which may address the same subject from different perspectives.  It consists of 2 to 3 line Katauka, the syllabic pattern 5,7,7.
Image I was using was a pair of hands holding a small, wrapped package.
 

911 Ceremony

9-11_evacuees_2
9/11/01 New York City WORLD TRADE CENTER TERRORIST BOMBING PARK ROW AFTER 2ND BUILDING COLLAPSE © TRICIA MEADOWS/GLOBE PHOTOS, INC. © 2001 K31459

Our face denies emotion with our stance
though years of suffered loss bring no relief.
Today we view the gas mask with a glance
as firemen-stunned among the Tower’s grief.
Our calm defies the hurt within recalled
that day we ran through dust as panic stings.
Our hair turns white remembering their fall
that day when ashes flew our feet had wings.

“The End of Love”

credit: Dreamstime.com

“The End of Love”

That end to our emotions mixed with doubt.
That chill is in the air and she’s a thief.
Her danse macabre comes with September’s rout
when green things turn and wither with relief.

When colors drunk with abnormality
cry out; their bloody cost then tossed to ground.
Their voices hushed. Dry, crackled brevity.
Plain-parted things, their dust cannot be found.

Forgotten now.  Dead thought without a trace.
And no one may recall our summer bloom.
That part of us inflamed with our embrace
now cold; dispersed to darker, solemn gloom.

Oh, dance, dear heart, before our final year;
before our fateful day brings winter’s sere.