Does the crematorium rememberthe gist of ashesor values of bones floating in rivers?-remnants of a life lived with conviction-blessings, curses gathered by action The soul’s journeydoes not obliteratebitterness or loveleft behind. It’s the burden of impacted lives Quadrille #245
She walked awaywithout casting a glanceat the shattered glass-ruins of potentialdestroyed by disrespect-her bleeding feetmoved with firm stepsaligned to her spine the silence of a volcanoreverberated through the corridorsShe stepped outjust before the eruption Quadrille at dVerse
A bird’s eye view shrinks me,makes injustice seem both vast and small.Where does my strength come from?this fragile confidence to speak,to complain, to resist, to believe? I tweet injustice loudstrength rising from pixels,confidence winged,complaints flying,beliefs viral. Quadrille - Bird is the word
Hunger gnaws at Oliver’s ribs, a silent tyrant shaping childhood’s plea. It mutates. Leaders gorge on power, their banquet of greed eclipsing bread. Yet hunger, whether for crust or crown, reveals the abyss within desire’s endless reach. You want some more, wherever you are. Quadrille at dVerse - Q242
hidden—beneath a leaf’s husha shy bud averts my gaze slow breath,a tremor of green veinsinitiating life no eyes watching,yet, petals loosen the moment slips—captured in glass light a single flower,born unseen,held in my phone’ssmall screen Quadrille #241
Marijuana, a mask of smoke,but the scions wander deepertheir arteries lit with excess,their laughter a mockeryof their existence.Goals never setthey are on undefined trips-a carnival of waste,where silence remembers what they forget-the emptiness beneath indulgence. Quadrille #240
Joy struggles to find a spacebetween tightly pursed lips-sneeringclenched teeth-threateninga deep, dark pit-beckoning it slogs and slams to stretch the distancebetween skepticism and acceptanceA cynic smilesFrom left to rightAnd all directions throb with light Quadrille #239
zero is where I find myselfat the beginning of every venturebut life takes different turnsand gets labelled with numbersit throws me back with impunityround is the only way to go jump through the looplest you remain rotating inside Quadrille #237
There’s a red light at the doorfor all those who thinkthey can coax me into compliancewith their code of conduct. If you are open to exchange of viewsmoving ahead, enriched by conversationHang on there…the light will turn green Q236- Coaxing as it does
the house sparklesfood looks yumher back achesbut who cares? She sweeps the backyardthe cracker-ash strewn all overreminds herof a creative sparkshe had with words and paintsbut who cares? Primariness mattersIn creative choiceBut who decides? Quadrille #234
