Lines written for #FromOneLine 278
I waited until midnight
For the moon to blossom
Like a batik print stamp
On indigo-dyed fabric,
To whisper stories
Scripted on handmade paper
Sprinkled with stars
And cursive letters
Dipped in darkest inks
From the unending horizons.
Lines written for #FromOneLine 272
Take me back to when
Flickering dust from
Burnt sunsets touched me
With pangs of loneliness
And I merged with
The inky hues of night
Caressing the emptiness;
In the pain was born
The finest prose,
Poetry so tender,
And a never-ending love
For eternal solitude.
Lines written for #FromOneLine 271
When the Sidhe*
Stopped dreaming
All that remained was
Whirring of machines
Clicks and whispers
To feed artificial brains
That could never imagine
How sweet the smell
Of the first rain
Or the mystery
In a forest trail
Ah! The crunch of leaves
Beneath tired feet.
*Sidhe: fairy people of Irish folklore, said to live beneath the hills.
It was more purple than green
An ugly gash refusing to heal
Salve nor balm, rest nor restrain
Strong enough to erase the pain
A bruise so blue, a crimson tear
Sweet hurt with trembling fear
Yet, I tend to these injuries deep
Purge the venom, not let it seep
Into crevices of my soul so grim
Discard memories like dead skin
Tell me why the daisies sing
Gentle petals, how they singe
With dark splatters of crimson
What makes them sway in glee
Touched by an aching breeze
Those that hummed in praise
Of wilderness and their beauty
Have crumbled to dust so ruddy
Sacrificed in raging wars of men
Only to capture a fleeting heaven
Blue Pen Strokes 