2015, Poems and poetry

A Sonnet on the Starry Night.

One, two, three stars so bright
Come lay next to me, and count
Twinkling, sparkling before your sight
Tell me, what do you think of this amount?

Spurting beams of silver so fine
Soft trails they leave while playing around
Tell me how you like their shine
Or does it leave you too spellbound?

Twenty, thirty, this might never end:
We can count and count until morning calls.
Their smiles say they do well understand
There are less chances we might name all.

It might also be true they know secrets of God
And so they dance, His love they applaud.

This is the last one for the Writing 201 challenge as it finally ends today after two weeks. Our form was “sonnet” and theme “pleasure”.

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2015, Poems and poetry

Ghosts of our love.

I make the world’s best coffee.
I know this because you said it.
You said it because you meant it.
You meant it because you loved me.
You loved me why?

I stand here in my house – once what meant “home” – and shiver like a leaf
Because the enormity of this place seems terrifying without you and I feel I can’t do without my roots.

Walls shake as your laughter echoes, the defenses I had made come crumbling down
I can no more understand where to look for you – or not to – as my feet take me running round and round

My ears are ringing now with a voice that isn’t yours, my vision blurs with something that should be tears
My mind is on fire and my heart in a sea, and my room and its clock and its bed and its floor
And your pen and your shirt and your watch and your sheets
And your smiles and your eyes, and your eyes, and your eyes.

Then you come and hold me – out of where?
Whisper something soothing like a prayer;
Running your fingers through my hair, you hold my gaze and say: “darling, please take care”

I listen to you and sit down.
Cross my legs, bend my head, begin to count.
I notice that my breathing calms and the knots in my body do unknot
As your scent enters into me and your soul takes a spot.

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2015, Poems and poetry

Of our home- Dreamsville.

Once upon a time in Time,
A man came panting to our town
His eyes were red and head tousled,
On his face was set a frown.

He said, “I have come from a land afar
To question you of your false fame, sire!
My feet are tired but my heart won’t rest,
Until I get my answers – oh, need is dire.

You are people of a town so great
You live and sell, and play with dreams
It is here that they are born, from here do come
Our hopes and goals and smiles and screams.

But I have been dreaming now a dream for long
It seems to me  like a thread without end.
I toss and turn and shoo it in sleep,
But it goes nowhere at all, my friend.

Tell me why you spun dreams so eternal
Why for us humans you did not care?
Our capacity to hold untold is controlled
We can only bear too much of despair.

O people of Dreamsville! You say dreams breed here
Why can’t you find for me a closure to this nightmare?”

Hearing his plea a woman from our town
Stepped forward, smiled, and began to speak:
“Dreams, my man, are portals to great truths
They surely aren’t much for those who are weak!”

“When we send you a dream, it is for you to complete
Interpret correct or not, but to follow its lead
When you see a dream that seems everlasting
Go ahead and nurture it with struggle’s feed.”

It’s almost 4 a.m here. It took me an hour to write this one but it’s important to me because I thought I could never write a ballad*. It’s not perfect but it’s a try, and it was FUN creating this whole thing. It is in response to our poetry challenge 201: Neighborhood, Ballad, Assonance for which we were supposed to write anything related to a “neighborhood” or sense of it, as a ballad like it was done in the formative years.

* ballads are dramatic, emotionally-charged poems that tell a story, often about bigger-than-life characters and situations, and their rhyme scheme is a-b-c-b.

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2015, Poems and poetry

Sad whispers of the mo(u)rning…

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Move him gently

Anything might rouse him now.

No prayers nor bells

Nor any voice of mourning.

The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells,

And bugles calling.

I should die, I think.

His face bears a wrinkled smile of completeness.

From this heart: all evil shed away.

But his sights and sounds; dreams happy as day;

And laughter?

Is he so hard to stir? Was it for this

That he slept at all?

Did he sleep at all for this?

 

(Written in response to Writing Challenge 201: Found Poem. This is a kind of poetry composed of words and letters you’ve collected from elsewhere, and arranged in a way that it gives a different message. Our theme for this was “faces”, which I’ve used in two ways. One is the face of this person in my family that I saw yesterday. He is awake but he is not awake. He is just….there. Second is the face of the greater thing that leaves us all helpless before it. Nature, death, disease. Anything like that.

Our assignment also included the task of adding a chiasmus which is a reversal in lyrics. I invented one in the last line. Apart from that, the words of this poem have been taken from four random classical poems of English literature including Futility, Beautiful Old Age, The Soldier, and Anthem for Doomed Youth.)

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2015, Poems and poetry

Lamerick

Once upon a time, a silver doe

Came out of nowhere into the snow

To the pool it walked

Harry followed, shocked

Limerick ends. Next you’ll never know.

This in response to the the Writing 201 challenge which required us to write a limerick (9-9-5-5-9 syllables, a-a-b-b-a rhyme scheme) on ‘imperfect’ but guess the only thing imperfect is the poem itself, lels. Used enjambment. The theme, in case you can’t recall (or haven’t read), is a chapter from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows where the pretty thing comes to his rescue while at the forest.

The-Silver-Doe

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2015, Poems and poetry, Proses

The universe smiles with me.

“Sea waves kiss my feet. I bend to hold wet sand in my hand and close my fingers for a while to feel. It slips away when I open them again but the lines on my palm glitter with a soft silver gleam. I turn back and night shifts and I find myself in another place. There is no sea, no waves, no wind. But the inside of my hand glitters still. I lay back down and find grass beneath me. Soothing and serene. I touch some strands to gather green. It tickles, softly. Your name I write then, on my skin, and smile. The universe smiles with me.”

Written in response to writing challenge 201: “Skin”. (Write a prose poem using internal rhymes; choose whatever meaning of skin speaks most to you.)

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2015, Poems and poetry

Truly Yours.

To you, I want to give flowers–I don’t mind that being cliched–

Roses, wrapped in ribbons. Letters, soaked in perfume. Stars.

Unnecessary though it might be, I want to tell you again and so often

Love, how much I have come to love you that I’ve now begun to live you.

Your thought is my drug, your memory is heaven’s mercy,

Your presence is an air without which my lungs parch up.

Oh the Sun of my universe, the Light of my soul!

Undying is my adoration–like a forever flowing ocean.

Remember this: my gift to you is my heart. I am yours.

Some day you’ll see. That some day, we will be.

Written in response to Writing 201 challenge: write something about a gift, use a simile. Poem form: acrostic. (The first letters of each line together form a special word which is the theme here.) Hi.

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2015, Poems and poetry

Ode.

To pencils,
who have always stayed by man’s side
enabling expression of emotions
and their extermination.

The pencils which,
whine not whence you need them at two
in the morning or say four, sleep not without you
safely tucked in bed.

Pencils that die inch by inch,
tending an artist’s turmoil or a writer’s ruckus
with a smoke of grey or graphite crushed,
and designs– oh such!

Pencils. Do you see not how they aid
an ailing heart, a studious kid, a busy clerk?
Out on paper, they run until you’re tired
resting only in your nearest drawer after work.

 

Written in response to today’s poetry challenge which asked us to write an ode to something in our “drawer”.

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