Poems are best composed when there’s
No words to capture all your cares.
When there’s no light or ray of hope,
When heading down a downward slope.
That’s when words are the coastguard’s flares,
The scatter of birds, March’s snow,
The bowler’s throw, the whistler’s blow.
Alarm bells cry final warnings,
In dark nights, but darker mornings.
Why do we have to shrink to grow?
In response to Ronovan Writes’ Décima Challenge #16 found here
Hear the squawking of mother bird,
Chased by the devilish kittens,
Captured in their furry mittens.
Ears pricked. The silence was stirred,
But her pleading was quickly slurred.
Bringing emptiness to mourning.
Her baby bird awoke, yawning,
And longing for the feathered quilt,
Mother’s wings in the nest she built.
The baby sensed a shift dawning.
Image credit: pixabay.com
In response to Ronovan Writes’ Décima Challenge #14 found here
A heavy heart plated with lead.
When bad days turn to lousy weeks.
When sleeves wipe across sodden cheeks,
You don’t know how to help, instead,
Belittle me to get ahead.
You look down at me, this is true.
Uncultivated fields grew,
The hierarchy’s nourishment.
With too little encouragement,
The days are tough to saunter through.
In response to Ronovan Writes’ Décima Challenge #13 found here
Born from negative intent.
Should have thought harder.
In response to Ronovan Writes’ Haiku Challenge #312 found here
A teddy bear’s view,
From the shelf above the bed,
Is of dusty frames,
And other idle trinkets.
Undisturbed, estranged, and still.
In response to dVerse’s Imaging Prompt found here
When a hardship comes sailing in,
Please allow my mind to depart.
Watch my warriors guard my heart,
Sometimes I feel like staying in,
So please refrain from breaking in.
I ask you to forgive my void,
Accept, or leave me paranoid.
Let me cry when nothing makes sense,
Leave when my feeble eyes condense.
Pity’s worthless when I’m destroyed.
In response to Ronovan Writes’ Décima Challenge #10 found here
Neglected, no chance to attach,
A childhood gone rotten.
As resilient as a baby seal.
A beautiful girl, forgotten.
Her world is backwards,
With nowhere to stay.
It has an unwelcome smell,
No downpour could wash away.
Yet it rains and rains,
Until she is wet, with a chill.
Like when the crickets stridulate,
Her cries are shrill.
The downfall is that she will grow,
Knowing how to hurt you.
Her expressions will be informal,
And she will hold no virtue.
Image credit: pixabay.com
In response to Mindlovemisery’s Wordle Prompt found here
I left some sweet peas on the counter,
When I left early that morning.
I admired their delicate petals,
I did not receive their warning.
Sweet peas symbolise goodbyes,
They are used to bid one adieu.
It must have been an omen,
For I never returned to you.