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!
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!
I wrote these lines for the one-line prompt – The birds on my grave. Writing this made me sad. A writer commented that it is “hauntingly beautiful.” I agree that there is a lingering ache in this poem that makes it beautiful. These lines are about all the things we leave behind when it’s time to be one with the earth and the skies! It’s the epitaph of the poet, the writer, and the silent warrior.
The birds on my grave
Are possessed by the poems
I never wrote down
And the myriad stories
Now buried with me;
The wildflowers flourishing
On my weathered tombstone
Carry the aroma of moments
Now lying in an ornate box
Tucked in with crocheted love
You can sense my presence
In the dance of butterflies;
The dragonflies sweep in
To touch my humble soul
That wonders what happened
To all the words, I left unsaid!
Many readers may know the symbolism of the dragonfly. It means looking within and indicates the light of a divine entity. To a warrior and fighter, a dragonfly represents agility, power, speed, victory, and courage. It also symbolizes rebirth, immortality, transformation, adaptation, and spiritual awakening.
So, in the end, the poem brings hope when the soul is touched by nature and in commune with the dragonflies.
The elegant decay
Of our youthful love
Slowly chipping away
Like well-used crockery
Still a heirloom to be
Preserved until eternity
Verse for #FromOneLine #prompt 163 inspired by “Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.” from the play Tje Mourning Bride by William Congrove.
After the storm
Her soul lay bare
A torrent of words
Gushed out in fury
Suppressed, repressed
Now phrases unruly
Unabashed, unashamed
She ripped the veils
Shattered, battered
Pretenses swept away
Silent rage, now a surge
All trauma, finally purged
Blue Pen Strokes 