|With your feet on your head and your brains in your shoes, you can steer your life anyway you choose :)|
I am gathering warmth
stolen from concrete
from the last
sea level days
I intend to bring you light
in every way that I know how
it is so
how the minutes
seem to stretch
those same deceptive seconds
that pass in blinks
when you are near enough
for our fingers to intertwine
we have built a bridge
between your life
(you are a wonder)
and I wish to
always be a part
of thoughts carried with
the water flowing under
and what's (to) come
STORYTIME: Me attempting to write a story, something I've failed many times in my life.
Nothing was going on in his life. He felt lost as he stared out of his window, overlooking the city. He let out a big sigh as he closed the window. He grabbed his bag and puts on his hat. As he walked through the door he looked around the room one more time before he closed the door.....
It had been 3 years since he got his parents to sign the emancipation form. He'd been by himself before it anyway, and it was always difficult for him to get his parents to stay in one room for more than 30 seconds. He always had to pretend to be older to get jobs so he could pay for lunch at school. ...
some nights, you lie, fetal; protecting your suffering.
no one is allowed in the space between your knees and your elbows. only the pain.
till you wake up the next day with body aching all over.
somewhere during that prescribed sleep, you let the pain go and become a blanket over your skin.
fetal, you lie some nights
like the child in you didn't die long back
like the innocence still existed in that tiny space
like you forgot that you always had a history of claustrophobia
fetal, you lie some nights
thinking why your stomach hurt so bad
not realising that the sharp edges of your brokenness
cut it's way into your guts
fetal, you lie some nights
thinking back to the time
your mother l...
LOST (A SHORT STORY?)
I pressed both sticky palms to the glass, eyes wide, mesmerised by the colourful fairies and woodland animals - motorised toys that danced and pranced along their circuitous routes in the shop window. "Look, Mum! That one there with the rainbow wings!" I turned and beamed at my mother standing at my side with what I hoped was an endearing smile... except it wasn't my mother. The old lady beside me coughed and shuffled her feet awkwardly.
"I'm afraid I'm not your mother, dear," she sniffed.
I shrank back away from her, staring as she moved away back into the crowd. Where was my mother? I turned and scanned the tumultuous sea of fac...
*IT'S EASY I'LL TELL YOU*
To the student applying to university,
I tell you.
But is it easy?
I ask myself.
The classes are fine on a stand alone,
But put together they come off difficult and leave me feeling queasy.
The homework and readings pile up,
And no matter what I do, it always seems like any little thing will cause the boat to rock,
And the tower to tip.
But it’s easy I’ll tell you.
It’s easy to feel unappreciated,
The relationship that’s been built up for over a year seems fine,
Until the calls become fewer,
The texts become shorter,
There’s no physical contact for months.
And the relationship you once knew like the back of your hand,
Becomes the rel...
This is time: Visible,
as the snake
the knee high
grassy green garden
of dancing bouquets.
As ivy creeping
on a cold stone wall.
on the edge
of a whispering wind.
floating in a
The ivy clings
growing over rain
pelted, crimson bricks
and I remember
the Visible Time
Writing Prompt | NAME POEM
C - Drowning
Panicking in an ocean of people,
drowning in loneliness.
You reached your hand out to me,
and even with a cold heart,
you had the warmest touch.
My very own lifeline,
pulling me further into the deep end.
I've Struggled to breathe
ever since you stole the air from my lips.
You pulled me in for a kiss,
but let the waves crash over me.
My fears are pulling me further into the darkness,
and all I can see is your smile.
Beneath the waves I can hear
your tender laugh making me do the same.
Forcing me to swallow water.
Further and further I fall,
Watching as my everything,
Returns back to the nothing,
We once were.
Me back hurts. It's a good back. But nobody loves me back. Even though me back has seen through thick and thin. It has seen roses and mud. It has seen school bags and college bags. It has seen bags of work and bags that nobody else wanted to carry. It's an awesome back. But nobody loves me back. Me back hurts.
Let this duvet of dreams
As I weigh myself down
With memories of us
Tell me why
Play on a loop in my brain
You have become the soundtrack to my life
Instead of counting sheep
I count the fragments of you
That I keep scattered around my room
There was a part of you hidden in between the pages of my favourite book that lies on the bedside shelf
It collects dust now
Another lies trapped in the mirror
Sometimes when I glance at my reflection
I'm convinced I see you
Yet when I look again.
Once I clear out your side of the wardrobe
I'll find you nestled inside an old shoe box
WORDS SPEAK THOUGH I AM SILENT
I’ve written so many songs
so many lines
so many poems
effortlessly purged from my heart
they are the true miracles
the flame that keeps my candle lit
granting me light in this consuming dark
But they always get lost
like the people I love
leaving me with meaningless words
that I can only force
I can’t say I blame their decision of departure
It’s difficult for people to handle those
that can’t handle themselves
please know I am sorry
for giving you first class seats
on this plane crashing into hell
for hearing my thoughts when I drink
as I dissolve myself into a rusty drain
I must admit
the catharsis from writing this is invigorating
Steps echo through
what appears to be a long
corridor. Wind blows, carrying
an old southern
wet odor. The woman outside
the dimmed street light
as I approach
the last lines, I realize words
have become an invitation
to the knowledge
and feathers keep falling
from desert trees, resting
in slopes of sand -
she bends over
her own shadow, picking
from the ground – maybe
maybe a letter -
at the center of the corridor
the sky is a huge
speckled in pure
are so tiny.
Lost on a dark jungle trail
Unexpected surprises jolts frequently
Precariously dangling on hopes
Fighting with fate, as if nothing to lose
Quitting was not an option
Although motivated by nothingness
Surviving was a challenge too
Riding a dead horse of self dignity
Ego on display, but no spectators
Societal demons haunting constantly
As the reality slowing settling in
Sleep walking into a nightmare
All questions unanswered and ignored
Emotions suppressed deep within
All my secrets to be buried
In the deep abyss of the unknown
With me, I shall carry when I sleep.
SKYLARK CHALLENGE 200
(Unable to attach the images, sorry. Last minute entry, here goes :))
The woman wrote her letter intently as the cafeteria buzzed with the local Sunday swarm. The coffee spilled upon the thin material of the pretty girl's skirt. The man created a disturbance as he checked underneath every table for his lost car key. The waiter stared at her, depicting her fecundity. The woman remained undisturbed.
She was swimming against the tide of time by writing about her late grandfather, memories of the days she s...
- Cosmos, Unraveling, Voyage, Wondrous
Someday, when the last god is dead
When the wind blows sand through the doors of time
When the last temple crumbles to nothingness –
Come with me, and I will show you
The things that shall be.
The imagination is lifted away
On a wondrous voyage into the vastness
We shall be what we can be
Glory lasting to eternity
We shall touch the last red star
We shall be the children of the cosmos
The tide of reason shall be unleashed
And wash away the fear of magic and the unknown
Forever, and it will be gone
The world, unraveling, can laugh at itself,
WANT TO BE
want to be the stars
want to be the sky
want to be the love
within your eye
want to be a letter
on a sheet of white
...or the darkness in the night
could I be a reason why?
or a dark and simple lie?
would I be the past?
...more than you have asked
I'd like to be a dream
inside your head
...or a book that you just read
can I be your words?
want to be your blue
want to be your rain
everything in vain
Sometimes I don't feel you
Like a different person,
But something within myself
Which through my eyes
On watching the stars at night;
Or something in my ears
That makes me speechless,
And brings tears of bliss to my eyes
On listening to a soulful symphony;
Or like something in my heart
Which gets expressed only as poems.
Enid Blyton lived in a Faraway Tree. Bob Dylan, in a mobile van with the memphis blues. Albert Einstein lived near the edge of a black hole. Charles Darwin, in the future. Vincent Van Gogh lived under a starry night and Alistair McLean, in a night that went on forever. We were all born in the same world. But that doesn't mean we have to live there.
Listen to the voice that tells you she loves you. Even when your friends tell you she doesn't. Listen to the voice that tells you this world is yours. Even when all the evidence points to the contrary. Listen to the voice that tells you how precious you are. Even when your own parents tell you it's not true. Listen to the voice, cuz it's the only time you speak.
So much changes. The weather. The way you smile. The way you read a poem. What you think love means. The way you sit on a chair. Life is not about accepting the things that won't change. It's about accepting the things that will.
(Just unleashing some drafts I wrote over the past 7-8 months and was unable to post due to issues with the app)
Mr. Neuron didn't know who he was
And his instructions were rather plain,
"Hi, I'm a neuron", he'd say, not because
He was proud or even slightly vain.
But because that's all he knew
A simpleton, some would say.
But Mr. Neuron had a gift or two,
That boy could think, night and day.
And so he thought up a name
He thought up the colour of his eyes
The way he talked, the way he walked,
The way he smiled when he spun up his lies.
The way he swung his bat,
No less than a star or starlet,
Hell, he even thought up a hat
Stitched by hands he hadn't thought up yet.
Now Mr. Neuron is no...
It ain't red, green or yellow,
The colour of the light is blue,
Should I stop, wait or go,
Nobody told me what to do.
So I turn to look around,
At the people passing by,
And wonder where they're bound,
As they flap their wings and fly.
Do they not know, have they not seen,
The colour of his strawberry lips,
Redder than red, greener than green,
Thinking of them my heart still skips.
And though the light may change,
The day he says, "I love you,"
To a colour a lot less strange,
For me it'll always be blue.
Did you think I was talking about
my life? When I said the river has the will
to change? With her gleaming eye
a memory like an owl that hunts
in the daylight because cowards hides
between the rays of the sun
bloosthirsty like the muddy bottoms that
become graves for drowned children
leafless branches didn't hold as
they leaned toward a gold coin some
idler threw in a whim to fell in love
with the limpid waters. A slut! a whore! needing a bath after having
consumed her lust with a boar.
Yesterday I was walking like a monk in the world chained to the food tree my mouth
like a liturgy watching fishes silver
and bright as sin coveting gills and tails
like the river hearts and souls...
Visiting this platform after more than 3 months, I found myself searching for my old good friends here. I always like to read my penpals' letters everytime I open the app before I start writing myself. Felt good to be back after a whole busy year at college and of course, struggling with this app (I wonder if it's just my phone?) that kept crashing every two minutes. Luckily, today, it hasn't. I found that quite a few of my friends here have either deleted or haven't written anything in a very long time. I don't really like losing friends and I hope to stay in touch with the rest of my friends here for as long as possible while broadening my circles and learning something new ...
Skylark Challenge #177
Words: Letter, Fresh, Story, Sweet
He's the postal guy,
going nowhere so
fresh and early....
Wearing a haunted look
under this uniform with
the sweet smell of bubble gum
spotted brown hair.
Dusk adds romance to these days
And who would harbor a dark story
in a world of shadows
shaped such as these?
A woman awaits a letter at the post office
in his stained shirt
smelling of another,
bringing it to her.
BE MY WITCHCRAFT
It's now or never be my witchcraft
kiss me broken kiss me bruised
kiss these deathly pale lips
kiss the hidden one deaf mute
the other winged one wicked as a snake
she wishes only wings to fall from
great hights like a seagull born of wounds.
Blood in the mouth
blood between the thighs
blood at the vein
I have known the one who can no longer
hear or speak she is my twin
my enemy love doesn't suit her
she is the paralytic from too many blades
cutting her wrists no eyes can see
dressed up in long sleeves even in July
carpenter of the infinite pain kiss it.
Both are the leftovers fished from
the dead waters of bathtubs and sinks.
I tried once twice the third time I died
You find your way inside my head
Like a song that plays
Over and over again
And I can't seem to get you out the background
Oh, no, now I'm falling into pieces
I can't believe how I ended up like this
It's really beautiful, it's so precious
How you brought my heart to a new dimension
And the moon was watching over us that night...
Could I stay forever?
I hope that when I close my eyes
You'll be there when I open them tomorrow
But am I thinking way too far again?
No, I'm just being myself, I never wanna play pretend...
Cuz I love you with everything I have
So do what's best for me, baby, can you do that?
I always let my feelings get the best of me
So when the time comes will yo...