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
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
These lines are for those who carry the burden of sadness and depression; who may not articulate their need for compassion in a world that expects us to be perpetually bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
Help me if you can
To feel better, just once
To cry, yet not drown
In the darkened pools
Of forever spouting tears
Fermenting in the
Spoils of a bleeding heart
Tell me how to slip away
From the slimy burden
Of misery-laden thoughts;
Show me how to let go
Of the shame, and proclaim
I am human; I hurt, too!
Blue Pen Strokes 