When you journey through memories,
Do you appreciate the ride?
Do you find love or hope or pride?
Do those old times put you at ease?
Or are you caught on choppy seas?
Do you close your denying eyes,
And pray for your boat to capsize?
Do you feel anything at all?
Besides the terrifying fall,
From dreamy fabricated skies.
Image credit: pixabay.com
In response to Ronovan Writes’ Décima Challenge #19 found here
I sat beside a charming stream,
On the trunk of a fallen tree.
A perfect place to peacefully
Reconsider my latest dream.
I admired the water gleam,
Watching courageous ripples ride,
Toward the rocks, and then collide,
Meandering around the bends.
It taught me changes are not ends,
So I can drift, no need to glide.
In response to Ronovan Writes Décima Poetry Challenge Prompt No. 7 found here
Born from negative intent.
Should have thought harder.
In response to Ronovan Writes’ Haiku Challenge #312 found here
Oh, the beautiful parakeet,
With your soft, ruffled feathers,
In layers of sumptuous plumage.
You take flight with grace,
Landing like gymnasts.
You sing a tune, so gently,
As you admire your reflection,
After hours of preening.
Oh, the beautiful parakeet.
Shared for Open Link Night #267 at dVerse found here
Just relax as we journey into the deepest crevasse of your mind.
Slip past the danger sign; it’s only there for decoration.
Don’t be frightened, your subconscious is your true safe place: your childhood, your desires, and the key to deciphering all of your… Eccentricities.
Image credit: Pixabay.com
In response to Only 100 words: Three Line Tales #226 found here
The cheetah perched by the lake,
Cleansing her paws.
She scowled at the water,
For reflecting her flaws.
She rubbed at her spots,
But they wouldn’t disappear.
She loathed her matted coat,
And she shed a sullen tear.
An elephant came along,
And sat by her side.
“Just look at my wrinkles,
I wear them with pride!”
“How do you find the strength?”
The cheetah enquired.
“I found more to life than beauty,
And that’s all it required!”
Image Credit: Pixabay.com
In response to Wrinkle Writing Prompt: Sunday Scribblings #3 found here
We are parched of hope.
Two tulips in spring.
Lost in a field of poppies,
So wild, and unforgiving.
I falter, I wither,
In emotional turmoil.
I pine for your company,
Though anchored to the soil.
Where’s my refuge, my nursery?
I’m a solitary flower,
Come and quench my thirst,
With all the love I can devour.
I seek hope by the water,
Clear as a looking glass,
It reflects the damage of our parting.
When will this menace pass?
Oh, won’t you come and find me?
My strength, you can restore.
Let your touch console me.
You are still worth waiting for.
In response to the Paint Chip Poetry Prompt #21 found here
Open your arms wide,
Lock me in tight. So close, I
Can hear your heart beat.
In response to Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge #307 found here
A gentle raindrop falls on my flushed cheek. At last, a cooling air to refresh this arid atmosphere. More water scatters, creating a pattern of dots on the patio. Each droplet fills the gaps.
My breathing slows as I immerse myself in this feeling of relief. My eyelids release a tear, which my chin catches briefly before it washes away.
The light pattering of rain gradually quickens in pace, as the droplets shatter against the conservatory roof, creating the sound of a tabla drum.
To follow, a downpour.
In response to Weekend Writing Prompt #158 found here
You took a second glance. I could
Forgive you for a wand’ring eye.
As long as you do not deny,
And just assume I’ve understood,
Given a choice, I know you would
Allow that longing, leering stare
To ricochet back to me where
It will be reciprocated.
Besides, I’ve often debated
To gaze, myself. It’s only fair.
In response to Ronovan Writes Décima Poetry Challenge Prompt No. 6 found here