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
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
My puppet master let go of the strings.
My eyes absorbed the world with a fresh perspective. Everything seemed so unusual; less enticing and seeped in danger. I didn’t know where to run, or whether to run at all.
I tried tying knots in the strings, praying my puppet master would guide me once again.
The knots only frayed…
I cowered in a corner, until I could muster up enough strength to breathe steadily. Exploring had once been a dream of mine, but in my mind, it had been safe and wonderful.
I must now become my own puppet master, but I will always clutch the strings tight.
Remember when we sat beneath the stars?
Gazing as the waves approached the shore,
I nestled in your arms. The night was ours.
Felt safer than I ever had before.
You turned to me and said you liked the way
It felt to have me in your grasp again.
You held me tighter still, and said someday,
To see you, I won’t have to catch a train.
Though distance holds no power over us,
Why does it hurt so much to be apart?
Then time refused to pause, or to discuss,
The desperate prayers within my aching heart.
My mind began to wander to a place,
Where every day I’m blessed to see your face.
I wrote a Clerihew for my love.
For I’m convinced he fell from above.
He landed at my doorstep, on all fours.
I blushed and whispered: “call me yours”.
I’m not in love with you.
Paths may cross,
They may run parallel,
But eventually they part.
I’m not in love with you.
Although we collided,
We will be divided.
Its just that we are both heading South.
If we join forces, maybe we can find North.
Okay, so I’m in love with you.
I will crumble. Won’t quite catch
My breath. Console me.
One moment I was running, and then I took one look at your face and frowned. It was distorted. You were still beside me, your voice echoed in my ears, and I could still feel your soft skin, but it wasn’t your face. It wasn’t your body or your hair, or even your delicate eyes.
I am dreaming. I must be missing you.
I lean in closer, sensing every part of you, it seems so real. I believe that you’re there, you just look different. Then, I realise we are floating. Floating high above a place that doesn’t even exist. I am holding a cold glass of water. I feel the weight of it, and the drips of condensation on my fingertips. There’s no denying it’s existence.
I wake up, my hand clasped around air. For a second I’m convinced I’ve spilled the water until I feel reality.
I think back to us floating, and that unrecognisable face who represented you. It seems ridiculous now, but it still makes me pine for you and all day I feel a tingle. I wait for the night to come again, hoping for a continuation, but by then it has all faded away.