Creative Experiments and More

Bemused I look at my bloodied, skinned knees

Knees lacerated and raw from crawling all over

Over the jagged and cruel edges of reality

Reality which had been summarily discarded

Discarded foolishly in favour of fanciful fantasy

Fantasy which turned into smithereens everything

Everything now seems lost forever, but…

But now I am retrieving broken pieces of those dreams

Dreams thus fragmented, you may say, would do no good

Good times alas seem far-fetched and unreal

Unreal cadence of yesterday mars my today

Today the salt from my eyes may sting these dreams

Dreams that continue to lie shattered and prone

Prone and battered completely out of shape

Shape of my future splintered badly so

So I gently lay them away from the escarpment

Escarpment which beckons with suicidal notions

Notions that may make them fall off the precipice again

Again to be shattered and scattered…

The past gave me lessons to avoid blunders,
But my present and future are hindered.
“Watch out, it’s going to happen again.” is what I hear,
Whenever I think of trying what I fear.
The ghost of my past is looking at me from the mirror,
Or is it one of the sly tricks of my ego to make me reconsider?
I try hard to make my past version disappear,
But “Watch out, it’s going to happen again.” is what I hear.

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Written for Reena’s Xploration Challenge – 241

Reena’s Xploration Challenge #241

A single-line prompt for this week – The only ghost that scares is a past version of you. OR SHOULD I SAY Me!

Write whatever pops up in mind.

What pops into my mind is not you but me!

When I look into my magic mirror into the past, I see myself being deceived.
  
"Me!  Deceived?  me What PRIDE! 

The devel can certainly deceive, IT is clever that way. But, I was so happy, carefree, young, and healthy that everything was going my way! So I thought! No, I do not want to visit that ghost, myself! My problem was allowing myself to put my will above the will of God. AND It was all my fault; (I knew better). Yet, I blamed it on the changes within the Catholic Church, how it became more and more adapted to the world, and I went along with it…

Inspired by Eugenia’s Weekly Challenge – Dramatic &
Reena’s Exploration Challenge #241 – The only ghost that scares is a past version of you.

born, learn, grow, crisis, steps back, success, loss
life’s cycle of dramatic events
in the big picture
churning and adapting to a new edition
the only ghost that scares is a past version of you

Scavenger Hunt

i was a child of lies and compromises
i was a child of disputes and pretenses
they say i was doomed from the start
broken before even i become whole.

i was a child of maybe’s and differences
i was a child of what if’s and controversies
they say i was a disaster in the making
condemned even before born.

they say it made me stronger
they say it made me braver
but i was a child
i don’t need to be strong
i don’t need to be brave.

a child i was
i need to have a playground
i need to be in a safe haven
the womb was not even my haven.

it didn’t matter though
even if i didn’t have a playground
even it i didn’t have a safe haven
for true enough i am stonger, braver.

but if there is any a great woman…

A single line prompt for this week –

The only ghost that scares is a past version of you.

➰➰➰

No one said that loving was easy
No one ever said life and living were easy
The journey is convoluted 
It’s riddled with traps
A one-way ticket that has no returns 
So what scares me is to relieve the past
To face the challenges I have already conquered 
To relive the trials and tribulations of yesterday 
And worst of all to face the past version of you
You…
Who has evolved with me 
You who have changed and mellowed 
You, now a person I’m proud of now
I dare to go into a future yet unknown 
Than to return a past that I have already traveled 

➰➰➰

Written for RXC #241, hosted by Reena

#Keepitalive

#RXC

You never got to fully develop your little body.
But I can picture every detail of your perfectly formed features
As clearly as if you were before me.

You never got to wriggle and squirm in my belly.
But I can still feel you.
A hollowness inside that cannot be filled.

You never got to know my touch or arms holding you tight,
But I caress the memory of you with love,
Hugging my pillow at night, wishing it was you.

You never got to breathe and fill your tiny lungs.
But I take deep breaths to soothe the ache in my heart.
Sighing, for what should have been.

You never got to hear my voice or know me as your mother.
But I speak to you often and the person in the mirror
Wears traces of you, etched in the lines of her face and on the curve of…