urn

How many sunshines

And rainy days did I miss

Of your daily life?

 

In this pretty urn

Is all that remains of you.

I wonder which one.

 

The one that smiled

In my memories of her

Or the scowl and frown.

 

Did I really see

The person you paraded

Or the masquerade?

 

Will I ever know

The genesis of your smile

Now hidden away

 

In your everyday life

That I missed all these years.

I said: “I love you!”

 

Now I’m not so sure.

 

IMG_0823_1024

A destination

Or the irretrievable

Point of no return

 

A place to settle

To nestle on solid ground

Leave steep slopes behind

 

The rush of the wind

May no longer blush your skin

No thudding heartbeats

 

But you have arrived

Where your line of sight is clear

No more surprises

 

Still adventure calls

With bright city lights ahead

Enticing allure

 

And we are back there

Chasing mirages and ghosts

Of what could have been

 

But time moved along

The dazzle now a glimmer

Of what might have been

 

So we climb again

Counting the hours and years

Of  joys and sorrows

 

The peaks and the troughs

Lead to another plateau

Where dreams do come true

 

If only we let them…

 

 

The Prompt for this poem was to take a domestic situation and relate to  a surreal vs real scenario. Had a bit of writer’s block today but here we go:

Fairytale
source: http://www.aliexpress.com

These words

Once ripe-

Bursting for you

Now washed out

 

Hang limp

Pegged and dry

Ready to fold away

Nothing left to say

 

Cinderella is home

Her prince has gone astray

 

As I prepared another load

I recalled the princess and the toad….

 

head in hands

It’s past midnight

And sleep remains elusive.

Time keeps ticking, ticking!

You break into a sweat.

What about tomorrow,

And the day after that?

You’ve tried before

To set yourself free,

But you’re tormented

By what you cannot see.

Confusion turns the tides

Of your faltering heart.

Words betray your emotion

In what it has become.

It’s hard to interpret

These immobilising feelings

That are not supposed to be.

Still time keeps ticking, ticking!

The voices inside your head

Grow quarrelsome tonight.

Some say go, others

Tell you not to move,

Each shouting louder

Until you can’t think.

But you alone know:

Something has to end!

IMG_5987
Chevvy8 : Sea Point

Some would call you a scavenger,

Scouring for your favorite meats,

Indiscriminately relishing your hidden treats,

Unruffled Don Juan, always so cavalier.

 

Others say that you are a messenger

Sent from beyond horizons of the sea,

With epistles you have composed for me,

Glad tidings from another hemisphere.

 

You stand with pride on your pillar,

Confidently studying my every move,

Casting doubt of what I need to prove

As you roam shores, ever a serial spiller.

 

I am inclined to see the very soul of you

Before my thoughts carry me too far.

I recognize you for the seagull you are

On ocean and sand, swooping through.

Tacloban_Typhoon_Haiyan_2013-11-14.jpg

The wind had changed direction and almost subsided now.

Some of the dust had settled on her tear-streaked face. Her

belongings lay strewn like a tossed box of matches.

She had no forewarning of the destruction that would be unleashed.

As the new year broke, someone called her real name. …..

 

 

 

 

teachers

It is a place that I had never been

It is a beauty that I had never seen

It is a value that I had never measured

It is a love that I had never treasured

 

It was the lesson learnt from my teacher

It was to see the full depth of each feature

It was to go back and search from within

It was to start with loving my own skin

 

It will be with sadness that I must move on

It will be discerning between right and wrong

It will be time to check against my new reflection

It will be time to stop looking for perfection

 

It is a time for being strong in my transitions

It is  a year to make new binding decisions

It is an awakening from a dream to the real

It is a determining of exactly how I feel

 

Though the teaching methods were unusual

The student is filled with a sense of renewal

But sometimes the roles were reversed

When the teacher became the student first

 

The work of a teacher is never done

When one plus one equals one.