“My mother-in-law invented remote control, long before we held those devices. She created a robot, long before this town heard the word.” The gathering listened with bated breath. It was an unusual obituary. The obedient son wondered who was better at histrionics - his mother or wife? https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2020/10/31/weekend-writing-prompt-181-histrionics/
poetry pours out with a theme a poet has something to say A format is a voiceless meme predefined shapes, but no clay out of the world, out in the skies once upon a dream, inspiration strikes on a horse with wings, imagination flies of dark ink pages made - burn the psyche united in … Continue reading Flying with a poet
I picked …. A decima by s.s.
I picked sea shells crusted with white
pickled in ancient ocean spice
I dug my toes in, it felt nice
till a crab crawled up for some light
and gave me a terrible fright
My three year old lungs yelled out loud
spraying sand and shells all around
I lost my balance and flat fell
face down on that crawling crab shell
running my little pride aground
***
Mindfills by s.s. for
Reena’s exploration challenge #159 – slice of your life ….framed on the wall. What would you like to see there
Ronovan Writes Decima challenge – fright in A rhyme
My look at life….. By rulife
“Be grateful for your past, it has given you joy or taught you lessons
Accept the present, this moment is a gift, a marvel in itself.
Dream for the future, work towards it.. however small or big, spectacular or trivial, your desires are”
It was nice to pen down how I want to live life and how I would want to live on in the minds of people very close to me.
In response to Reena’s Exploration Challenge #159 . Thanks for hosting it Reena
Don’t miss this “I am” statement by Punam
Day 30 OctPoWriMo
Prompt: I am…
Form: Free verse
I am not what you think
I am not even really what I actually think I am
I am not what the world wants me to be
I seep under the skin where I can’t be seen but only felt
I am not just my words most days
my expanse is way beyond them
though, my words are very much me
I am not only someone in relation to others
I am me before all relations
I am
a suspended wave
a hurricane in the making
sometimes a river in spate
yet, insatiable
an exclamation in anticipation of a full stop
a worn out book
with some still unturned pages
an answer to unasked questions
a question to all answers
sometimes an adrift statement
an unpeeled orange
an unbitten apple
or maybe somewhat like the watermelon
an enigma
so predictable
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alone together in joy and sorrow sharing today and tomorrow yet alone…. nobody knows what transpired between hearts between walls what happened enroute on glorified journeys we are alone have been for sometime running together not knowing If we fancy same destinations alone together in joy and sorrow sharing today and tomorrow yet alone…. https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2020/10/30/week-91-i-think-were-alone-now/
A slice of my life ……… Ramya Vivek
Reena’s Exploration Challenge #159 for the week is quite an interesting one. I always have this question at the back of my mind, ‘How will I be remembered?’
Through this post, I might walk you through my life on a more personal level, because the topic sounded more personal.
Imagine a slice of your life, or the whole personality framed on the wall. What would you like to see there?
Well, there’s definitely a wide gap of probably five feet between how I want to see my personality framed on the wall versus how my family perceive me as an individual.
I think myself to be a simple human without much expectations. Give me love anyday over any materialistic thing (sweets might be an exception😋), you’d have me tied around your little finger.
This frame here would rightly be me, if I were to make one for myself, as…
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The boundaries between mist and light,
time and dreams, seems porous, slight
in memories, thoughts dim, but feelings brighten
not where or when, but why we’re frightened
in the night, death comes close, as senses heightened
to scream beware—
before you vanish from that liminal space
where hours dash, and you wear another’s face
knowing you are you but not, and you forgot
to take a test or you’re lost, or haven’t brought
that thing, you know–or maybe not,
but where
do you go in this maze of a house,
and who is he, surely not your spouse–
but oh, what’s he’s doing feels so good,
and you think you shouldn’t, you wouldn’t, but you would
until they stare,
the people, they’re monsters, with giant teeth
and what is that, behind the door, beneath
the bed, not Grandmom, not husband, or lover,
scary creatures, they grimace, and hover
and you…
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I carve the dusk with broken nails
I claw at lack of light, I cry
between my death and fever dreams
with soil in soul and ash to blaze
in embers of regrets, I wake
entangled in my bed-sheets-shroud,
November comes, my bed, my grave
to sounds of shovels as
my mouth is filling up with sand.
From deeper shadows shines
the charcoal cinder of her lidless eyes
November reeks of mud and rot,
still, I am forced inside her grasp.
Today I host dVerse live at 8 PM CET (3 PM EST) and we will be live and read our poem to the open mic,
October 29, 2020
Death, unveil yourself don’t hide behind A need to scare living lights out of weak minds…. Death, reveal yourself in the glory of renewal as the opportunity one always wished for but never had… Death, heal yourself You are painted black only by those who refuse to see beyond Death, peel yourself to display layers … Continue reading Death
