On paths we unknowingly walk,
shaping ways, says and cares
who we are,is never set in stone.
The story take turns and twists,
imprints of people we carry along
On paths we unknowingly walk
Time like a ribbon,ties them all
memories trapped,soft and strong
shaping ways, says and cares
Never too sure,who we might become
never too proud,of what we were;
who we are, is never set in stone.
*****
Written for dVerse Poetics : Cascade Poetry form
Barren trees freezing
Good words from one who matter;
One sun to warm all
**
This is for my best friend , the brother from another mother , who has brought light to my day today.
Shared with Colleen’s weekly tanka challenge and What do you see
The thing about poetry,
Or whatever I feel is poetry,
Is no frills, no spare words,
Only bones given
To be filled with imagination
Of whoever reads
The lines, or between;
The appeal of poetry for me
Is in getting my feels,
My thoughts , my words right,
the only thing that matters,
The only thing making me write
I know no other way
That makes my heart see light …
***
Inspired by the prompt @ Toads and Reena’s exploration challenge
A face: collection of masks
layers of conditioning,
years of bias building
the judgements clouded;
if only one could be blinded
to the worldly sensors –
perhaps we can become
a bit of ourself again.
Inspired by Reena’s exploration challenge # 69
Through the shade I see,
Patterns of light in colors,
The monochrome dreams
Slip through the words I let free,
The morning freshness captured
….
This is an entry inspired by Wednesday verses prompt (Fresh) which I read first thing in the morning . I am trying to get back to structured poetry styles , so I was happy to stumble across Colleen’s weekly Tuesday challenge and link this poem there.
The whole world out there,
and I wake up dreaming pancakes,
a kid in the playground,
some maple syrup evening,
a whole palate of colors
and a bite of fresh fruit;
The universe conspires
the images I can not grasp;
no tears , no laugh
just some bitterness cutting through
the fruits that are about to fall;
I feed my words to strangers
hoping they would find seeds;
I make peace with barren lands
being dug out of me
without a single sight of tree;
The kid of my desires walks somewhere
demanding pancakes from my kitchen;
the things we talk over breakfast
lie along whispered prayers
covered in melted butter instead.
===
Written for Poetics Tuesday and inspired by photo prompt @ What do you see ?
