Mondays

#FromOneLine #prompt 172

All the Mondays together
Piled high on the debris
Of restless weekends
Worried about tomorrow 
Always in a race
Forever out of time
Our life has wings
Our destiny is in flight
Shoving, climbing, scraping
To the top, until the bell tolls!

Unrested

#FromOneLine prompt 171

I tripped over my dreams
Sprawling on the rug
As I stepped out of bed
Unrested, nursing anxiety
From visions splattered
Across the dark walls;
Clouding my head
As I struggle to remember
Nights of sweet slumber
When the dreams were pretty;
Now, they lie gasping
For breath, to remain alive
As our world turns into
A living nightmare!

Burden of a witness

#FromOneLine 168

Well, it’s done now;
Carrying all the burdens
Of the world on lean shoulders
Has finally bent my back
The weight of anxious thoughts
Presses against my chest
A weakened heart throbs
Tries to pick up lost beats
As cold perspiration beads
Glisten on a furrowed forehead
It seems I have played my part
Of being born a human
Destined to bear witness
To a dead Earth, a decaying mess!

At the doorstep

#FromOneLine #prompt 166

These lines for #FromOneLine #prompt 166 is a reflection on the current International affairs in the context of the war on Ukraine.

Opening the door I saw
Blue and Yellow at the porch
Splattered with Red; they sought
Peace, hope, and solace.
With compassion in my eyes
And sweetness in my words
All I did was console the hurt,
I did not reach out my hand
Take a stand or clear my stance,
Or invite them over to the safety
Of my large, cushy home
For I feared the Red will stain
The carpets and walls
Splash and ruin the decor
So, I stood there, until they bled
Right there on my doorstep!

Goodbyes

#TopTweetTuesday entry

An imagist poem for #TopTweetTuesday. For me, these words are wistful and meaningful in a world that is saying more goodbyes, in the past 7 days, than it was meant to be.

I thought I’d survive without you
But I couldn’t say goodbye
For the words lay tangled
At your doorstep
Afraid to cross the threshold
Into a life where you
Would not be waiting
At sundown, by the yellow lamp
A book in hand, the kettle whistling
Eager to tell and know
Of just another mundane day

%d bloggers like this: