Once
Cocoons
Fashioned from
Nothing to form
We came to exist
Nestled and nurtured life
Immersed in air, water, earth
A living seed, destined to sprout
Grace and vision foundation’s blueprint
Metamorphosed! Butterflies realized!
Liberated wings, tired from wiggling out
Open and close slowly, practicing
While we rest, wind-kissed promises
Wings rested now, fluttering
Wind catches them – liftoff!
Marvelous wide sky
What’s that I smell?
Pink breakfast
Straw sips
World

The poem is in (double) etheree form.

Reena is the host of Reena’s Exploration Challenge.  Reena says:
write to choice of image.

Aristotle thought that an old man would see as well as a young man if he had a youthful eye.  I have an appointment to discuss cataract surgery in January, but I still have not decided which way to go on that.  There are basically three options available to me and they are having my near-sightedness or my far-sightedness fixed or getting both fixed with Multifocal Intraocular Lenses.  The third option is the expensive one, but this would let me say goodbye to glasses forever.  If I choose to just get either my near-sightedness or my far-sightedness fixed, then it would require me to wear glasses for the one that wasn’t corrected.  Thus, if I get my distance vision corrected for driving, it would put my reading out of focus and I would need glasses for that and vice-a-versa.

Medicare will only cover the cost of standard monofocal intraocular lenses…

Reena’s Exploration Challenge #113

~*~

As for me, you know I don’t see so well

My myopia makes it hard…

How long shall we abstain ourselves

From doing what the heart desires

When we want to flow where the winds lead

We hold us back fearing denial !!

If acceptance is all we seek

Acceptance of society

Acceptance at work

Acceptance in peer

Or acceptance of world !!

Where does it lead us to ?

And does it feed our soul?

If all life what we do

Is try to fit into our role !!

For how long shall we stay

Behind the same old smiling face?

Hiding our selves, our sorrow

Searching relief in some bright tomorrow!!

When shall we open our fingers

That tightly held back our dreams?

And let our imaginations flow

Like a gushing silver stream

 

This is in response to Reena’s Exploration Challenge 113

 

Gliding through endless blue

A visitor is following

Shall I sing you a song

Ahhhyouup, errewwwrip

Do you understand?

I’m saying welcome to my world.

https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2019/11/14/reenas-exploration-challenge-113/#jp-carousel-21903

Image: Google Images

 

pockets of stillness

I’m walking o work

The humdrum of the morning

Invades my senses

There is no escape,

Cars, the trains, planes overhead

How do I crave some silence?

Around me is endless chatter

Friends, catching up

Acquaintances offering polite conversation

There is no time for complacency.

I turn into my office

I close the door, locking out the din

And I sit within my very own pocket of stillness.

Written for: https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2019/11/07/reenas-exploration-challenge-112/

“In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.”

― Robert Frost

Life is a series of undulating patterns rippling through time and space. A Bayeux tapestry of battles fought and lost, a few conquering heroes, but mainly foot soldiers in a never ending war.

In the past a tsunami wave of conquerors stormed over the globe, creating order by killing and exerting tyrannical dominance. Eventually the people rose in rebellion, the new order collapsed, sending its populace crashing into a sea of darkness awaiting winds of change to propel the next big wave. So it was with the British Empire, the Mongol Empire, the Russian Empire, the Spanish Empire, the Qing Dynasty and the Umayyad Caliphate, to name but a very few.

Are new patterns starting to emerge undulating in the…

I sit still in the pockets of stillness

holding delicately the errant heart

suspended between
the harsh and loud crashing waves of accusations

mulling over the razor-sharp words

and the wounds left on my wrists

inverted query marks that question your maps

of which way the relationship should head

cynical assertions mock simplistic way of looking at life

my views are like a lost alphabet alone and adrift

in the vast seas of sardonic know-allism

now when I look back at that naive, gullible person

I wonder was that really me?

My crumbling thoughts are doctored to sync with others’

the debris of such thinking falls in undulating patterns

it is a miracle that still some sense can be made

of the free-flowing bonds that keep us tied to each other

our silence often embellished with pregnant pauses

But where others see potential of emptiness

I see an ocean of…