Tag: Wea’ve written weekly
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itchy ears
his voice makes the crooked tree, whosewaist is like that of granny, to rise among woodssounds like the tales grandpa tells thesedays, of strange beings lurking in places that areforbidden, searching and listening, sometimes Iwonder where grandpa gets such tales, I thinkhe cooks most of them, adding ingredients Iand many itchy ears would love but…
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Masked Masses
This week, I was honored to be chosen as Poet of the Week for this week’s Wea’ve Written Weekly hosted by David. Special thanks to Sally for nominating me. Here is my take on the prompt : the room heaves with my sighsits walls browning from the stewing solitudeas I listen harder pass the noise outsideI hear…
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Giant illusion
fear, doubts, the long years and motionsmorphed into a giant illusionof an end that would never comeand of tides that would never turn Then one day, an ordinary dayjust started slowly yellowinginto the long awaited endexuding joy with its brilliance I did not remember being boundyet I sensed invisible chainsbreaking, losing their grip on memy…
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Only if
the wind lashes through the lush unkempt hairof the conductor of the rickety bussending shock waves of foul odoracross noses of passengers packed to the brimnoses curl in silent protestbeside the road in the scotch morning heatare two pupilsa little girl and her brotherholding handsdesperate to get through the traffic to schoolthree loud bangs on…
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salty guilt
she leansagainst the wallhands at her back, face downsalty guilt eroding hermake-up layers of sadnessarranged like a cascade hookher drooping shoulders
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a day at the circus
i find my pearls tramped and mixed in miredamn! what looked like a giant chest was in fact a small stythe swine! and their foul snouts!the clowns are not to blame https://wp.me/p2Uccu-fvC
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inferior
a foot in its bellyhands feeling its tips and sidesthe tweaking foot pausesseems a fitlots and lots of hagglingand counting of what looked like crumpled sweat-softened notesfinally, off the shelf and into a polybaggoing through twists and turns blindfoldedthen into a new home, unto a new shelfnights and days pass bythen the familiar feet returntheir…
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They sit unsung
we’llneverknow the fearsand hurts you hideyour deeds, like diamonds,sit unsung in shadowsof ingratitude and prideyou forged underdogs into starswith sacrifices of love, Mother,we’ll never know the shed tears and hurts you hide
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spill your feelings
have your loose lipsbegun lootingyour chances of success,turning potential into worst nightmares? does your intuitiontell you you’re contributingto your slow progressand growing distress? keeping a secret can be toughlike an irresistible coughfor some, keeping a small circlecan be a major hurdle but for your own goodalways confide in a bookfew people really careabout your welfare…
Diary of a Wanderer 