Gyoza and Broken Hearts

Featured

Gyoza and Broken Hearts

Graduate school
econometrics
cryptic
to my right-leaning brain,
when in my puzzlement
an angel descended
from distant constellations —

a comely Adonis,
face sculpted
by Jirisan mountain
winds,
eyes and lips suspended
in a perpetual smile  —

He took my hand,
showed me how to
solve equations
step by step,
pencil strokes on the offensive,
neglecting fear of failure to find
proofs of theorems —

In interweaving moments
he would prepare
gyoza,
chopsticks on teflon,
our measly meal—

Tonight
I cook gyoza the way          
he taught me,
a different life, no more
theorems to prove —

I recall from long ago
a time of heartbreak
while parting ways
for another love.

D. G. Vachal © 2023

A Longing

Featured

A Longing

palpable as hunger
and thirst for river waters —

to return to a place,
search for a face
distilled
in sapphire oceans,
await a voice
deep and tonal,
my evening song —

another winter melts
in purple crocuses,
golden
daffodils hasten in their blooming,
grass turns emerald
green again  —

I ponder upon
this haunting longing,
smile with fought-back tears
and I walk on.

D. G. Vachal © 2023

Image by Frauke Riether from Pixabay




Come Sit With Me Awhile

Featured

Come Sit With Me Awhile

for tomorrow
I must tend
to hearth-fires for warmth,
the spinning loom for clothing,
and bread-flour for hunger —

awhile

amidst emerald moments
while lemon blossoms glow
from topaz to gold
and cloud-like egrets
hasten on their wings
to strings
of violin marsh-winds,  
alight
upon the infinite green —

awhile

when time stands still,
seasons compress to moments
no matter the scorching heat,
no matter the numbing cold —

come sit with me awhile.


© D. G. Vachal 2023

*** photograph by Adriansart @ pixabay

Tousled Lady

Tousled Lady

in the parking lot
lugging milk and corn flakes
and bread in brown
paper bags,
you catch
my stolen glance
at your little
boy,
you grimace,
forgive me
for intruding
into your private
world —
I walk away

into the store,
Friday towards dusk,
my hair flows neatly down
my shoulders,
my blouse
crisp and creaseless,
my list is short,
the evening hours long

for the laughter of my little ones,
the crinkle of brown
paper bags, the crackling
of corn flakes in milk,
the warmth of bread baked
in my own peculiar
world
of long ago.

by D. G. Vachal © 2012

My Love I Love


my love I love

because you love me,
in your arms
content in winter
while hearths aglow
with applewood
flames —

my love I love

because I hold you
in my arms
asleep as I
hush
boisterous winds,
that trouble
your wounded
heart —

my love I love

D. G. Vachal © 2023

Photography by Mabel Amber