Light of poetry

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

Blush

A compliment that is true,
For the process I went through
In picking the right attire
And the colors and the moods,
The pink from husband’s kiss
And the peachy freshness
Of the confidence from the mirror,
The faith in my thoughts
And the beauty of my heart
Reflected on my cheeks
Made me blush, even writing this.

Color of silence

image

The colors of silence change
For who wields it;

Mine are mostly red
Of love passion
And sometimes rage
On lover,
On love,
On myself,
On us.

They can be dark
Like core of the night,
Or of my soul
Churning
Whispering
Pointing to
Your eyes.

The best i love
Is when it is white,
The blinding emptiness
Of peace ,
Of acceptance,
Of purity,
Of being one with you.

Poetry for friend(s) #OctPoWriMo

Although I started with a different idea , I ended up with this poem. A friend of mine says it is confusing. Maybe it is. I am myself not sure what prompted me for this post. So , maybe I will some day re write it. As for today , please bear with this 🙂

 

a challenge,
a quest,
a vain effort to impress ..

My first poem
to a friend
long lost now,
in the mad crowds,
but he still remains
in memories and verse,
my love for poetry
was a discovery to myself.

a prayer
a request
a silent wish to angels ..

This poem today
for another friend
lost he feels,
yet holding hands,
I shall stay
forever here,
for words will remain
as much as my cares.

==

for Day#3 OctPoWriMo

The morning poem

I love mornings that are sleepy,
Where you dream walk to the doorstep,
And smile at the cloudy sky,
When you remember your dreams
And laugh at the odd things you said,
Not to forget the poems,
Oh the morning poems he sends,
Some self written, sone not,
Few wordly views,some love notes,
Like your hopes have arrived
In shiny packages of kisses,
Such are mornings i love
And plan to luve forever with him.