About loving and living

From Freepik

It alights lightly, fluttering softly, leaving goosebumps, then you become aware of it when your heart is all aflutter, beating to a primordial song, awash in indescribable emotions, blood afire in your veins, your soul lit with the luminosity of pure joy; at once divine and carnal and there is no need to shout from the rooftops, for love like fragrance cannot be hidden. And yet, life is about living, not regretting so it is always better to proclaim.

Written for dVerse MTB. Today’s host, Björn, has asked us to get aphoristic. You can read about it here.

Also for David’s W3, where Britta (POW) has asked us write a prose poem on love.

Passion

From Inc. Magazine

By the banyan tree in the courtyard
Freezing in the cold January night
Passion died under the onslaught of ego
At the altar of doubt, love felt forsook
Its last breath darkened the already dark night
Blossoming romance couldn’t survive till daylight.

By the time dawn removed the curtain of tenebrosity
Freezing earth had thawed, shedding rivulets of tears
Passion couldn’t remain moribund any longer
At the retreat of self-aggrandizement,
Its fire revived again, its flames stoking fervour
Blossoming again into all consuming ardour.

Written for dVerse MTB. Today’s host, Laura, has asked us to choose ONE of the following lines and write a stanza(s) taking each word as the start of each successive line i.e. the first word begins the first line, the second begins the second and so on.

Rules: You must keep the same sequence though you may reverse it
Your poem should preferably  be at least 2 stanzas long
Rhyme is optional but try to stick to the meter of your chosen line.

  • Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part
  • Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows
  • By freezing passion at its blossoming
  • I guard her beauty clean from rust
  • Quail from your downward darting kiss

I have selected Neil Carpathios’ line.

Love be like a favourite stuffed toy (NaPoWriMo)

The love that we share is like the misshapen stuffed beagle
our son dragged by the ear when he was barely four
passion has dulled a bit like his button eyes
but the cuddles are as warm as they were before
the mundanity of living has taken toll on the sheen
but the familiarity has only increased our rapport
we both may be spilling out of our seams
the sight of each other still makes our hearts roar
just as it occupies an honourable space
our love over the years has quietly matured.

Today’s challenge is to write a poem that contains at least one of a different kind of simile – an epic simile. Also known as Homeric similes, these are basically extended similes that develop over multiple lines. Perhaps unsurprisingly, they have mainly been used in epic poems, typically as decorative elements that emphasize the dramatic nature of the subject (see, by way of illustration, this example from Milton’s Paradise Lost). But you could write a complete poem that is just one lengthy, epic simile, relying on the surprising comparison of unlike things to carry the poem across. And if you’re feeling especially cheeky, you could even write a poem in which the epic simile spends lines heroically and dramatically describing something that turns out to be quite prosaic.

Life is words

Besotted, you watched intently
as words dripped tellingly from my
fingers

When I laced my fingers through yours
heart tattooed its favourite song
you’re mine

That summer of love drenched in rain
we traced dancing shadows lying
awake

The intricate latticework of
passion enfolded us in its
embrace

No dream did seem impossible
but then, life didn’t like our planning
ahead

Shattered shards I pick everyday
never knew broken dreams could hurt
so much

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Pain assauged through each word written
therapeutic exercise I
employ

Each experience enriching
however broken; beautiful,
life is.

Written for dVerse. Today’s host, Grace, says:  write a Synchronicity poetry verse.

This poetry form is written in the first person revealing accidental yet seemingly synchronized events.

The definition of synchronicity is the state or fact of being synchronous or simultaneous; synchronism. Coincidence of events that seem to be meaningfully related.

As a poetry form, this consists of eight three-line stanzas in a syllable pattern of 8/8/2. This poetry type has no rhyme and is written in the first person with a twist. The twist is to be revealed within the last two stanzas. This form was created by Debra Gundy.

Colours of love

Flame-of-the-forest or butea monosperma also moduga or tesu

When spring springs a surprise
and disappears before one can
say hello to the soft begonia sky
sprinkled with cotton candy clouds

no dewy dawns or dreamy dusks
flame-of-the-forest blazes across
heralding the festival of colours/love
earth carpeted with fiery blooms

but this time reminiscent of
a faraway bloodied land under the pall
of gloomy granite-grey skies
with determined eyes devoid of tears

as I smear blue and yellow on beloved faces
the bitter aftertaste of sweets lingers
a reminder of truths we dare not face
my heart prays for the elusive peace.

In India we celebrate Holi today.

Written for dVerse OLN.

Love is salty (a quadrille)

I still remember the dusky
saltiness of your satin skin
the way it turned liquid
under my warm gaze
the first time I tasted
the saltiness of love was
when I kissed your lips.
now, a solitary salt laden tear
I shed in remembrance.

Written for dVerse. Today’s host, De, says: Today, I want you to sprinkle the word salt into your poems. Whether you make it the seasoned center, or just dash a smidge of it in at the last minute, just be sure some form of the word salt adds a little zing to your piece: Salty. Saltine. Salting. Saltlick. Saltatory. 

Love’s silhouette

We met in the dark of the night, didn’t we
I knew for sure, for you, no one was I
Me with my rent heart, invisible me
Why I never was of note, tell me why!

Shadow boxing, through the darkened shadows
Black eyes we gave ourselves, blackest of black
Throw punches we did, at each other throw
Dark souls devouring each other in dark!

Light I felt when saw an inkling of light
Purged of all despair, uncertainty purged
Fight the black veil, O my beloved, fight!
Emerge from the obsidian depths emerge!

No more residing in penumbra, you know
Blow gently sweet wind of love gently blow!

Written for dVerse MTB. Today’s host, Laura, says:

Your challenge is simply(!):

write a sonnet poem of 14 lines and 10 syllables (iambic pentameter is optional extra)

choose the Italian, English or French rhyme form

start and end each line with the same word (including derivatives and homophones)

put ‘shadow’ or its derivative in your title

use the notion of shadow as metaphor or reality somewhere in your poem.

I have written an English sonnet in pentameter. ( Writing again in iambic pentameter would have driven me crazy;) )

Labour of love

Poetry is a labour of love, dare I say
it starts in the mind but then the heart holds sway
Words start stringing themselves prettily in the mind
lustrous they are, when with heart they are entwined
Words woven with the warm threads of emotions
myriad colours expressing all notions
Gradually through words heart begins to unravel
sometimes it snivels and sometimes it can dazzle
I hide behind the images that I create
but disrobing of soul is what I abominate
Poetry is a labour of love, dare I say
It starts in the mind but then the heart holds sway.

Words start stringing themselves prettily in the mind
lustrous they are, when with heart they are entwined
My words and I become one when through them I speak
whether I write of joys untold or of sorrows bleak
I lay bare my self all naked and vulnerable
sharing my pains and what makes me miserable
Anger finds release through sharp, stinging, staccato words
as my heart releases these tormented caged birds
Storm clouds darken my heart when atrocities it suffers
viscous black ink spills forth without any buffers
Poetry is a labour of love, dare I say
it starts in the mind but then the heart holds sway

Words woven with the warm threads of emotions
myriad colours expressing all notions
Mending, healing, becoming whole happens organically
through the pen, when words flow unchecked and free
My broken heart heals when sutured with verse
it is often a blessing but also a curse
The language of souls speaks in a common tongue
all hearts in a common thread are strung
I am filled with diffidence with every verse I write
though even the most nondescript one fills me with delight
Poetry is a labour of love, dare I say
It starts in the mind but then the heart holds sway.

Sharing at OLN dVerse.

One hug

The crisp paper crackles
sending a frisson up my spine
the familiar sprawled letters bring back memories
I had pushed in the recess beyond recollection

the imagined fragrance takes me to the doorway of past
I hesitate at the threshold,
hovering. The staircase of longing beckons

destined to live apart, we had blazed briefly together
toying with fiery passion
and then treading the path chosen for us

in the twilight of a predictable life
ripples threaten to rock the anchored boat
yet I give in to temptation without demur

as he strides towards me with his eyes twinkling
I rush forward and embrace him
unmindful of the people milling around

there will be no more tomorrows for our togetherness
this one hug will be enough to colour my monotone dreams;
enough to live by.

https://lifeafter50forwomen.com/2021/11/01/what-do-you-see-november-1st-2021/