A pillow talks

Pic courtesy Hush Blankets

I am the frightener of your monsters
the listener of your rants and outbursts
the keeper of all your secrets
the soaker of your silently falling tears
the generator of festooned dreams
the slayer of occasional nightmares

You are the master of mercurial moods
a purveyor of puerile pranks
a dictator of directionless diktats
a lounger lazing languidly
a hugger, a dreamer, a procastinator

But there can be no denying
whether I am dressed in crisp cottons or silky softness
I am the best bedmate you can ever have!

Written for David’s W3 where David is the POW himself. He has asked us to write a poem from the perspective of an inanimate household object, using personification.


Looping the dreams

Drawing by Francesca Miguieles

Bemused I look at my bloodied, skinned knees

Knees lacerated and raw from crawling all over

Over the jagged and cruel edges of reality

Reality which had been summarily discarded

Discarded foolishly in favour of  fanciful fantasy

Fantasy which turned into smithereens everything

Everything  now seems lost forever, but…

But now I am retrieving broken pieces of those dreams

Dreams thus fragmented, you may say, would do no good

Good times alas seem far-fetched and unreal

Unreal cadence of yesterday mars my today

Today the salt from my eyes may sting these dreams

Dreams that continue to lie shattered and prone

Prone and battered completely out of shape

Shape of my future splintered badly so

So I gently lay them away from the escarpment

Escarpment which beckons with suicidal notions

Notions that may make them fall off the precipice again

Again to be shattered and scattered all over

Over which I may cry no more but reconcile myself

Myself to the inevitability of stark truths

Truths that stare me in the face, yet

Yet, if even one dream manages to resurrect itself

Itself, of its own volition, it will be a reason to revel

Revel because dreams only work if we want them to.

Written for dVerse MTB. Today’s host, Grace, has asked us to write a loop poem today. Read more about it here.


When dreams decided to desert my eyes
they left without as much as a by your leave
the monotone void is now bereft of all hues.

My eyes continue to stare widely gazing in disbelief
the inky blackness is an abyss of anguish
where all todays crash into oblivion.

Tomorrows are neither promised nor expected
the bleakness is a wind that blows relentlessly
nothing stings the eyes any more.

The crafty tears, seeing a vacancy
quickly flood my eyes, filling the void
but are unable to flush out memories of those dreams.