Standing still by the window watching rain shimmering on the street his face reflected in the pane the past always travelling with him
suffocated in this borrowed space a quiet ghost lurked from the past fragments of yore floated by names, faces, places lined by time
he touched his distorted reflection coldness crept up his fingers broken promises, roads left behind his jaded eyes looked back accusingly faded memories crowded him
the past within woven into breath and bones enfolding countless shadows and fears but a tiny warbler singing its song of roots beneath the flowering trees guides when all seems lost
so there he stood a l o n e but awake a traveller looking back as he moved ahead.
Written for Reena’s Xploration challenge and Sadje’s wdys.
Comments are closed as I will not be able to respond. I will be away for quite sometime for my eye surgery. It was scheduled for next week but my doctor will not be available then, so it has been preponed to this week. I will try to catch up with reading whenever I can. See you all after the break.
I have listened to the river of notes a flute hoists its flickering flame fiercely a piano scatters moonlight music a drum’s staccato rhythm plays like heartbeat wind threads melody through branches sweetly distant stars hum; a door opens
(I did not rhyme the above, so the following is a second attempt with iambs and rhymes: abbacddceff)
Listen to the river tinkling its notes the fiery flames of a flute floats burning a piano scatters moonlight music a drum’s staccato rhythm oozing delights wind threads melody through branches’ motions distant stars hum; a door opens
(The Eleventh Power)
Before the first word was carved into the air before the stars were given their fancy names there was a sound – a hidden current – a flare moving through the dark – a silver thread untamed roots turning through the secret seasons of their carrying a melody that the leaves claimed this music swells revealing vast halls of light with the final note the night becomes a night yet leaves lucid stardust on hands that sparkles music that says nothing but to times harkens when universe sang but we forgot to marvel
Laura, our host at dVerse says: as today is 11th June we are taking one of those two legs and choosing one or other of these:
1. The Hendecastich by Michael Fantina
11 line poem 1 stanza alternates iambic feet of four (tetrameter) and one (monameter) i.e. syllables: 8-2-8-2-8-2-8-2-8-2-8 rhyme scheme: abbacddceff
Note: I can ony find 1 reference to this form here so it does not seem to have taken off – maybe some of us might give it a whirl
2. The Eleventh Power by Christina Jussaume,
11 line poem 1 stanza 11 syllables per line rhyme scheme of abababccddd or ababababccc, an uplifting theme
Artie Camenzind our PoW at W3 says: Use either (or both) of these lines as a starting point for your poem:
“my delicious walk in the rain”
“what it is that music is trying to say”
You don’t need to quote them directly. Let them guide you toward a memory, a moment of wonder, an encounter with weather, music, or something else that seemed to speak in a language beyond words.
the maps on our hands that we never drew fine spirals inked beneath the skin a silent record of our b e c o m i n g
the toothless smile of grandma those succulence-bearing mango trees green moss clinging to old dilapidated walls all of it drifts through us s o m e h o w
i hold the afternoon light in my palms the creases catch gold at their edges and i wonder if anything survives of every t o u c h
there are untold stories embedded in the whorls of fingertips tiny seeds hidden beneath the winter earth waiting for a patient listener and w a r m t h
for the moment a hand reaches for another it discovers that every palm contains many questions as well as a h o m e
unmapping fingerprints is not just unlearning the geometry of my own hands but erasing the history w i t h i n
like rivers remembering the mountains fingerprints carry unique poetry of the soul passing enduring legacy from one hand to a n o t h e r
Written for dVerse poetics Tuesday. Our host, Melissa, has asked us to write a poem without any punctuation.
Time and again the past tiptoes into the present reclaiming stories once etched on stone the future waits, impatient at the threshold drumming fingers on the keys poised to gild each moment with the illusion of hindsight
but we know too well time is transient fragile as a floating bubble cocooning leased light adrift on borrowed breath dazzling with its luminosity then breaking into nothingness
disappearing into the clouds of uncertainty clouds that mar memory clouds that darken the skies of mind and however much may one cajole or plead or offer blooms time thickens the clouds that cloud the mind
degenerated mind that is clouded cannot be cleared but what of minds clouded with whataboutery? time becomes a great leveller then tampering with time takes one nowhere.
Written for Reena’s Xploration challenge and Sadje’s wdys.
Where knowledge is free Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
Rabindra Nath Tagore
Fragments – – stories embedded in the whorls of fingertips – the soft ache of lost love enshrined in the heart – a crack which refuses permission to light to enter – a crack where light refuses to take permission – enactment of momentary attention – makeshift, disassociative narratives – piecing past in present without the presence of future – that division of hearts on the basis of colour and religion – small landmasses asserting sovereignty forgetting this whole landmass in its entirety – selectively selecting stories that suit the narrative – treacherously toying with time to trick the trusting ones – shards of animosity slivering civilizations – going back in history to cull dates and time that reinforce splintering – all the pieces that need tassellation.
Written for dVerse OLN mini prompt. I am hosting at dVerse today. Please join us with any one post of yours. If you need inspiration, we have a mini prompt too.
“Something old, something new Something borrowed, something blue And a sixpence in her shoe.“
I write this without malice or intent I have wallowed in self-pity far too long it’s time for me to reclaim who I am
so could you please pack all my things and send them over to my new place no new door opens fully while the old one stays ajar
my shattered dreams, my unrealised wishes my tear-soaked pillow, my drowsy mornings those laughter filled evenings and the whispered sweet nothings
as you gather these things, could you please look for my smile too? it got misplaced somewhere between bickering bouts and slammed doors
could you please return those movie-ticket stubs that I painstakingly collected and dated also that photograph of us drenched in the rain
don’t forget to return that lingering kiss I pressed against your fractured shoulder like a bandage that neither of us believed in
what survives the sorting is yours to keep, forget or discard I walked away from you empty-handed, broken-hearted leaving you with the wealth of memories and mementos
could you please send them all at once so that I may bury them deep or make a bonfire and watch the smoke unlearn your name
I’ll step into tomorrow carrying nothing but myself unburdened and unfettered of the past.
Written for dVerse poetics Tuesday and David’s W3. Dora, our host at dVerse invites us to take inspiration from the Victorian rhyme shared above.
Deanna, our PoW at W3, invites us to use a nursery rhyme as inspiration for an original poem. She says: your poem does not need to rhyme, and it may be written in any form you choose, but please try to keep it to no more than 24 lines.
(Deanna, this is not a nursery rhyme but a rhyme nonetheless and my poem is 26 lines. I hope you don’t mind my taking liberty with the guidelines! 😉)
Thoughts ripple in my mind illuminating ideas in the idyllic calm before I can bask in their light they flit away, fragile like feathers leaving me disconcerted and disoriented I drown in the depths of despair am I standing on the edge of nothingness?
Scattered thoughts crowd my mind each one jostling for its own space in the past I could easily bench some of them summoning and banishing them at will these days, they either elude me or delude me I think I may be losing myself I do remember who I am but will my words remember me as I am
will my future be kinder to me?
Written for Reena’s Xploration challenge and Sadje’s wdys.
Tells with silence the last light breaking Dylan Thomas
Tells – that story in your eyes that peep through the lashes heart divulges details but in dewey decimal pulses
with – together we are now and till time lets us be reiterating the inclusion of you in me
silence – the absence in my life of the time you crooned when one can hear heartbeats with each other commune
the – none in this world of your unique kind my very own solar system – only mine
last – that which lives beyond its ordained duration what came before matters not in this incarnation
light – with you that feeling of walking in the ether the brilliance in your eyes burning with love’s fever
breaking – the disastrous devastation of love unspooling your treacherous confessional words; my undoing.
Written for dVerse MTB Thursday. Laura, our host says:
For today’s MTB prompt we are taking a lyrical line and defining it word by word in an acrostic:
1. Choose one of these lines from that most lyrical poet, Dylan Thomas:
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars. I write on these spindrift pages This sandgrain day in the bent bay’s grave Do not go gentle into that good night Tells with silence the last light breaking
OR take a favourite line from your own poetry (and link or reference it)
2. Write each word, alongside its definition – the definition could be any style you choose e.g. an American sentence; a haiku, a triplet.
Mish, our Poetics host, invites us to write a poem taking inspiration from the title of Mel Robbins’ book ” The Let Them Theory”.
Reena, our PoW, at W3 has given us an east meets west challenge. She has given us three choices and also the liberty to make a poetic form of our own.
I am going with the first one. 👇🏼
1. Cinquain + Haiku Cinquain follows the syllabic structure of 2, 4, 6, 8, 2.
Haiku may follow any of the following syllabic structures:
3, 5, 3 5, 7, 5 Short, long, short Both parts should either reflect the same theme, or the second part may overturn the first with a shift in mood. However, they should remain connected in some way and not read like two separate poems.
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