I have never seen fairies or those stubby creatures accompanying them called elves. Maybe, elves were fabricated to help kids identify with someone of their own size. But, fairyland was a promise of happiness after the initial conflict with a monster. I learnt about juxtaposition, conflicts and battles. pots of gold at the end of … Continue reading Beyond
fair weather friends sap energy out of me solitude beckons Weekly Tanka Prompt Poetry Challenge - Week 111
A ground to rest my feet walk to feel alive a place to let me feel coolness of wind wetness of rain life-giving heat of the Sun gentleness of moon rays be in awe of the Sky Earth gives a context to my existence (44 words) Quadrille #63
born alone I die to connect Balderdash! take away umbilical chords I shall breathe understand individuals respect them allow strength to seep across bonds Unity let weakness not be an excuse or sharp tool disconnect first to let others need, want you BrewNSpew Cafe 12
I pursued success, but drifting over storms waned all enthusiasm, and I ended on a marooned island – alone, dreamy life passed me by-a writer evolved-telling stories of still glowing embers Weekly Writing Prompt #156
stories of heroes lullabied me to sleep I grew up to see captains jumping off the ship I knew what is cowardice Ronovan Writes
Who takes notice of roots spreading beneath ground level helping each other, other than the trees or plants they support. We call those tiny ones weeds, but who created them to feed off the biggies? Who manages the rains? It creates havoc if it exceeds or falls below expectations. It holds many steamy secrets in … Continue reading ELEMENTS
Saturday Mix – Lucky Dip, 25 August 2018 Trois-par-Huit The Trois-par-Huit was created by Lorraine M. Kanter. Trois-par-Huit (Three-by-Eight or Octa-Tri for short), a poem containing three stanzas of 3, 3 and 2 lines OR 3, 2 and 3 lines: 8 lines total with a syllable count of 3, 6, 9, 12, 12, 9, 6, 3. … Continue reading Liberation
It is the same Sun. It gets caught between a tree, or between the metallic extensions of modern construction. I like to imagine that it feels suffocated. But it moves away, smiling with optimism. There is always another day to face. I realize that I have been gripped by claustrophobia, and I projected the same … Continue reading The same Sun
barely dressed branches exposed in unseasonal clothes await foggy mist Heeding Haiku with Chevrefeuille
