Dreams

Nestled amongst the twigs of sleep every night
amidst stockpiled straws of stolen sunshine
adorned with knick-knacks of living
my dreams lie cushioned comfortably
ensconced within them is my fledgling poetry

Flapping tenuous wings of a new sprung idea
my verse hesitantly will start its lone flight
never ambitious enough of owning the lofty sky
striving to float free of encumbrances
then happy to home in to hospitable hearts.

Written for Sadje’s wdys and Eugi’s moonwashed challenge.

Spillage

I try to read the clouds
the angry, roiling, dark ones
obscuring the opalescence of the skies
no answer forthcoming!

my fossilized pain spills over
dangling over the edge
aghast and immobilised I watch
as it coalesces and drops in a puddle.

purged but now a hollow, scorched husk
I dither, unprepared to face the empty chaos
then rain starts to fall gently
the crevices slowly begin to fill.

Written for Sadje’s wdys and Eugi’s weekly prompt.

Hunters/Gatherers

(From Glamour UK)

Chauvinism’s foot pressed firmly on the reverse gear
the cycle of life hurtles at break-neck speed
back into the dark ages of yore
crushing progress in one fell swoop

Men! Strut your stuff
pick up the arms
go on a rampage
hunt down dissenters
as well as naysayers
brook no argument
cock that snook
bam! wham!
the sham of civility shattered gleefully
justice will be served
by the barrel of the gun!

Women! Cross your legs and press your knees together
you are being recast
as damsels to be disrobed
and used as a product
your body no longer yours
your life worse than chattel
barefoot with swelling belly; that’s your destiny.

Rights! What rights!
might is right
and how can the right be wrong
bring forth in this world
the unwanted
raise an army of abandoned, misfit kids
then give them the licence to hunt and gather.

Rejoice! Patriarchy rules again
we are in the war zone
fodder for the frontline
should be churned without shame
the darkness of heart
envelopes the world
maniacs are in charge
life is cherished
the living be damned!

That heavy feeling

The grainy texture of hazy memories
evokes myriad long forgotten tastes
some ambrosial, some miasmic
some that leave me pasty faced.

suspended in the half light of living
an unnamed bird flutters haplessly
singing no song of eternal hope
yet it can’t stop whirring its wings endlessly.

tonight the moon’s forehead is lined with worries
the fragrant skies will smolder throughout the night
heaving under the haze of monochromatic thoughts
the sun’s endeavour to slight the moon may never come to light.

time fades bit by bit bleeding every second
hunger throbs voraciously in my aching bones
tears gather drop by drop in the hollow of my neck
I brace myself for the colossal shadows of unknowns.

Sharing with dVerse OLN.

Flitting thoughts

Dewdrop fall on the paper in rhymes
a shower of feelings from moon-addled mind
interlacing agonies and joys sublime.

words are bridges connecting many a heart
the poem’s room lit with love’s glittering shards
the fingers clicking music; stop and start

the sun burns fiercely in the poet’s empty gut
speaking in a tongue no long sequestered
misty eyes read words not stuck in a rut

glowworm ideas shine with all their might
from dusk to dawn they twinkle bright
inspiration lies in the cobalt skies of starry nights

Butterflies releasing stories everywhere
prismatic rainbow glitters with flair
verses spun from gloom bloom sans despair.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers whether you celebrate today or not! Mere tokenism it may seem to many, but enjoy the pampering that comes with it. Some moms may not have been ideal, let’s break the mould then as mothers. And as for the moms who may no longer be amidst us, they have a permanent residence in our hearts.

The untold stories of trees

The inimitable trees stand tall and regal
autumn was not kind to them
brushing away their golden leaves imperiously
as if trying to hide
the message of trees they carried


in the starless darkness of night
snow descended swiftly and silently
covering the remnants of the fallen foliage
as if burying deep an evil secret


a path meanders aimlessly through the forest
the log cottage offers solace to achy feet
the trees wait patiently to bloom
fingers of sunshine might awaken the answers
that were drowned in the hum of the city.

https://lifeafter50forwomen.com/2022/03/14/what-do-you-see-125-march-14-2022/

Journaling (OctPoWriMo)

Day 30

Prompt: Diary

Form: Free verse

A whiff of mothballs takes me
to the dusty ephemera
that surprisingly did not
crumble under the pressure of time
as I look into the potpourri of my teenage memories
a cavalcade of emotions rampage all over me
bemused and bewildered I watch
corpses of defunct passion tumble out in a spuddle
the ferocious angst that ignited my soul then
is now just an ember; flaring up occasionally
the social activist’s dogged haunting
has kept my conscience alive
scattered in between the cobwebs
of spidery scrawls of scribbles
are the posies of verses inscribed in calligraphy;
kenspeckle for their earnestness
the apparition of my younger idealistic self
looms large, accusation writ large on its countenance
my moral compass is intact; only I have traded idealism for pragmatism
a whiff of something burning brings me back to the now
as I rush to the kitchen
the glimpse from the bedroom window gladdens my heart
sitting in the balcony
my teenage girl pours her heart in her journal.