Whither freedom?

Drowning, drowning, freedom is drowning
in the quagmire of falsehoods foaming around
perfidious promises keep plundering hope

They want freedom to be tongue-tied and servile
to seek permission to express itself by their rules
drowning, drowning, freedom is drowning!

Freedom is bloodied and pulverised
its face dunked in the dirt of unkept undertakings,
in the quagmire of falsehoods foaming around

But freedom wil not give in easily. It will surely
fight back and expose oblique oaths and the
perfidious promises that keep plundering hope.

Written for Sadje’s wdys and David’s W3 (for my own prompt).

Sharing at dVerse OLN.

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…and the music died

Poised on paper the pen ponders pensively
waits for words to flow uninhibitedly
but my constricted throat won’t let them pass

A sad tune plays plaintively in my head
the notes refuse to grace the white sheet that’s spread
poised on paper the pen ponders pensively

The heart feels emptied of all its contents
the mind is a cauldron of simmering intents
I wait for words to flow uninhibitedly

There’s rain that falls inside but eyes don’t stream
waiting for words is a sisyphean dream
‘cos my constricted throat won’t just let them pass.

Written for Sadje’s wdys.

Debris of heart (NaPoWriMo)/ Too much on my plate

Your rapier sharp words joint my heart
shards of love I pluck from the void
the melancholic cricket
sings laments every night
vows float like debris
sleep eludes me
sit by me
let’s count
scars

Because it’s a Saturday, write in a specific form – the nonet! A nonet has nine lines. The first line has nine syllables, the second has eight, and so on until you get to the last line, which has just one syllable.

Also Val has asked us to write a nonet or write a poem using the word “joint” and “bent”.

I am also sharing another poem written for Val’s scavenger hunt. She says, write a Cascade poem or write a poem using the word “limber”.

As I limber up for a month of writing
I worry if I’ve taken too much on my plate
but writing is what satiates my soul.

All kinds of thoughts rush through my mind
does being prolific a poet make, I wonder
as I limber up for a month of writing.

Shouldn’t poetic ideas incubate for a while
marinate properly in creative juices
I worry if I’ve taken too much on my plate.

Abandon the idea and step back should I
who likes half-baked amateurish verses
but writing is what satiates my soul.

Finally, it begins…(OctPoWriMo)

(From Pexel)

Day 1

Prompt: Anticipate

Form: Cascade

My spine atingle as I prepare to start
A festival of poetry that excites me most
A poem a day I commit to write.

I hope to keep my resolve to participate
I need my readers’ support as I embark
My spine atingle as I prepare to start.

I do write poems, most everyday
But there’s something so motivating about this month
A festival of poetry that excites me most!

I take a deep breath as my fingers are poised
No going back or stopping once I begin
A poem a day I commit to write.

(I will be posting a poem or maybe two everyday this entire month. I look forward to your support and encouragement, at the same time I understand that reading every blog is not possible! Drop in whenever you can.)

Nothing but the truth

A commodity considered archaic in the present times
relegated to being rarest of rare
truth these days is an experimental drug.

As dazzling artifice and pretence become lucrative
plain truth is no longer regarded attractive
a commodity considered archaic in the present times.

Lies need no passport, traversing the world
truth plods on, barefoot and sore
relegated to being rarest of rare.

Deception artfully camouflages flaws
honesty almost always gives you a spine
truth these days is an experimental drug.

For OLN at dVerse being hosted by Lisa.