the sky tastes saltyteardrops falling from HeavenI talk to the raincradled on my palms spread outto make a wish and receiveblessings on my skin, not tongue I may just spit outGod's vulnerabilityin words or poemsHelp me retain your essencebefore you drench other worldswith your magnanimity Tanka Tuesday Poetry Challenge
watchlightnessspur motiontake them abovelarge, conceited worlds-Miracles of natureinspired Wright Brothers to flyThey observe trending winds of changechalk out plans to build homes or migrate What Do You See #296
How often have I enviedan artist, poet, writerwishing I could dowhat they appearto exclusively know. But then I probe,disentangle thoughtfind inner worldsunschooled, distraughtprocessed differentlyexpressed untwirled My words carrymy pulse, my hue;and so do theirsshort or longeach voice uniquea sovereign song. styles can be comparedtechniques admiredbut never the flameThe spirit’s fire burnsin its own name. RXC … Continue reading To Each Their Own
She found a grotto behind the cliff—where soulmates lived in animal shapes. She had reached home. Weekend Writing Prompt #423 - grotto
Welcome back! Outstanding is the only word that occurs to me about last week's contributions. Cheers and heartfelt appreciation to all of you. PROMPT #388 Here we go with the writing prompt - a quote for this week. Exceptional is what I wish I had said. You may choose to use the words in letter … Continue reading Reena’s Xploration Challenge #388
Trimming the fat needs mercilessness. He recited the mantra as he erased names from the chart, each deletion a silent goodbye, executed with clinical efficiency. The office was perceived as an obese comfort zone, and the new management did not view loyalty as productive. The desks stood stripped and mute, silence reigning in corners where … Continue reading The Hatchet Guy
building bridgesbetweenauthenticity and expectationsI never reached home RXC #387
The home I yearn for is not on sale. It hums with the scent of a library, a delicate blend of musty pages and the ink they contain. Sunlight pools in its corners like stories waiting to be told. Its windows aren’t framed in currency—they hold the essence of intellectual and spiritual search. I’ve walked … Continue reading Home
Home is not place of birth, but end of searchThe soul has seeds from many lifetimes storedIt hunts, it gathers—never leaves a perchIt develops roots, dares to bloom once more. What matters must arise from our deep coreThe roof is an artificial constructBut truth beneath is what we all implore,strength emanates from principled conduct Friday … Continue reading Personality
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