In my slumber
I captured dreams
Brightly lit
Forever glowing;
Set them in fragile jars
Watered with teary prayers;
They found roots
Spiraling shoots
Thrived in silence
Reminder of all that can be
If we bestow our hopes
Fertile space in waking hours
Can light up darkest paths
Noctiflorous thoughts
Weave gossamer webs
Dreams lay entangled
In the silver threads
Droopy eyelids await
Slumber so deep
To serenade visions
To surrender to sleep
Yet, destined to a night
Drowned in the aroma
Of frantic wild petals
Wilting at sunrise
The sun melts into the horizon
Amalgam of light and darkness
Where the lines are blurred
Between paradise and hell
Consumed by the ocean
Glitter hues of golden days
Now wrapped in tempests
Bellowing over troubled waters
Such is life – Moments of delight
Washed away by turbulent tides
Also features on #MMPoetryBattle week of Aug 12 highlights, with a couple of different words to meet the Tweet character limit: https://jdgreysonwrites.medium.com/poetry-battle-highlights-a945024a33e6
I have a corner seat in my office where I can lift the blinds from the tall glass window and glance outside. When I am writing and can’t find the right word or tone, or even mood, I just gaze outside or stand next to the glass trying to capture inspiration from a tiny piece of concrete- ensnared Universe.
When I lifted the blinds this morning, I saw a yellow butterfly in a small manicured green patch. Throughout the day I shivered in the office air conditioning while admiring the blue sky and the cotton candy clouds, imagining it to be a pleasant winter morning. The truth is after a week of regular Monsoon rainfall, the sun was back with vengeance. The washed sunlight was extremely harsh outside. I felt sad for the yellow helmet-clad cleaning and construction guys. Somehow, their work never seems to end.
The sun beat down upon them as they shoveled through their assigned chores. I wonder if they saw the butterfly, or the sky, or the white cloud drifting by. All I could do was sigh, return to my desk to work, and pay my taxes so that the world still goes around, and there is always a patch of grass that needs to be manicured. Such is life!
If I could count
The delicate lines
Offshoots and roots
Hidden in my palms;
Marking the map
Of my destiny
I may comprehend,
The forks and breaks
That twist of my fate
Conspiring to create
Hard wins and fails
In this medley of life
On a rollercoaster ride
Blue Pen Strokes 