The stream (all workshops)
You worry me
With your feet untangled from mine
Breaths lifting my hand
I watch it fall
I don't want you to go
But leave your coat if you must
To weigh me down in the winter
Carve a spot in my lap
I’ll save it til summer
If i am to love
This would be how
Running in circles
But your steps make no sound
I know nothing at all
Well you are what you want to be
who can say who are you unknowingly
but yes
you alone can know yourself clearly
the best friend can the mirror be only
to tell you
who are you
Hope your question
WHO AM I..
I have answered
confirm from your mirror
whether you really are you
and you are
really true
April 28 Poetry Reading Day
Share a poem,
From your heart.
Open your lips,
And great words impart.
Read the bards old and new.
Shakespeare, Frost and Angelou.
Beside you I lie
And we melt into one
Float in dark velvet
Warm as the sun
Feeling so fetal
Encased in a womb
Breathing as one
In our safe sacred room
Sharing a moment
Or two with my “twin”
Absent your presence
I’ll wander again
Lost in myself
But discovered in you
Now one mind and body
The product of two
Unpacking all that it can carry,
grief takes up residence in my thoughts
choosing the spaces where it wants to be
It’s not being rude, or intentionally unkind
Love, the ensemble it brings,
much in need of mending,
seeks to be worn. Time, the tailor,
will do what is needed
The attire, brightly colored again,
buttoned close to me for warmth
as love perseveres
I sometimes think back to the way life was
Before I met you.
The way the sun peeked through the clouds
And the wind blew through my hair.
It was just a little bit different.
A little bit better.
I remember the way I would laugh without caring who was watching me.
I would speak without filtering my words carefully.
Fear of judgment and repercussions didn’t exist.
I was obedient and silent because you demanded it.
Bad time sad day
No smile no laugh
No child no cry
She sat down on old wooden stool
Waiting for the collection of seeds,
It’s the harvest time.
Good days had gone:
Ploughing and planting
Watering and nursing
Every day in the season.
It’s time for breeding:
Hard and painful
Bending and staggering helplessly
Because harvest time is near.
Vineyardist is going up and down like a kite
Peeped through the door to call the door keeper
And ask what have happened?
Is there somewhere that exists
a gigantic tome of words?
A place my thoughts are saved
roosting spots for little birds
For thought can fly and words can live
tethered to each other
I want to know if they survive
once read by my brothers
Are they simply laid aside
when they are read and done
or do they live on forever
warmed by an eternal sun?
A repository built with love
a place where they can rest
Are the great ones left alone
to take their place among the best?
Very nostalgic poems one reads
now a days
siblings don't damn care
that is modernization
CHANGE is must
it is inevitable
and
the only
CONSTANT
which lives for ever on and on...
Oh, to close my eyes, let me linger there
In the blue-green sea with the rising tides
On the coastal shores sprayed with salty air
Amid vibrant towns, painted mountain sides
Hear the ruins speak of gold deities
Run through poppy fields, red-faced as they blush
Lust for robust wine, pray with Cypress trees
As the church bells nod in a hallowed hush
Let me linger there, feel the ancient sun
Bronze my eager face, kiss the tawny wheat
Rolled between my palms as it's gently spun
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