20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


January Moon

You erupted the sky that night,
turned the black an ocean blue.
You halo your light wide,
invoking strange regressions
I thought were long forgotten.

I expected rebirth,
a quake to the foundation,
but was greeted with the memory
of the color I swam toward
when I fell from the boat.
Disoriented and desperate,
I swam deeper until I was hooked
by the waist and pulled
gasping to surface.

It was the first time
I was lost.
The first time I stretched
in the wrong direction,
only to be dragged
unwilling back to sanity.

In the morning the bedroom window
is covered with a thin layer of dew,
the cold condensed into liquid
that clouds and drips across thin panes,
blocking out the sunrise.


Woman

So, this month, I have decided to try something totally different.  A style that I have never  attempted to try, but said what the heck, let me try Acrostic Poetry. So the first word is W etc. and continues to spell woman along the sentences. Let me know if this one makes sense or means something to you, took me ages, sorry to say, it is called WOMAN

World of wonders, complicated to one that tries to look within.

Obtains the beauty, creativity, strength, that can never be torn from the mind.

Manipulating the path, the route

Achieving the highest, the mightiest, it is amazing, the power that lurks inside

Neglecting the fears, opposition, disappointments in one´s life.


1 Comment

Song of the Star

Dear children,

I am the star -
No, not the enchanting, twinkling stars
In the dark night sky

Those, are for dreamers.

I am the star -
Glittering, alluring
The lamp to your future.

I am the brightest.

Come to me, dear children.
Into my world – your world – of A-Stars.

There are only stars, and the
Occasional
Shooting star.

There are no rainbows here for you to chase,
No fruitless quests for that pot of gold.
Child,
those, are for dreamers.

Join me in my song,
The chant of many -
Star, star, star.
A perfect, melodious harmony
Trembling with desire. Perfection. Rings in our ears.

Come to me, dear children.

I am the star that you need.

Not the twinkling stars in the night sky -
They are blind and dull.
Those,
Are for dreamers.

www.sorrowsinaserenade.wordpress.com


2 Comments

Alley – A Sestina

apologies for not updating for very long! Lots of projects and schoolwork, but the busiest period hasn’t even arrived yet! Really very sorry for my lack of discipline >< anyway hope you like this! A sestina, on how we all too often lose our way through the treacherous territory of gold and diamonds. Hope you like it, and appreciate the comments!

In the alley, I meet the Spirit
The maiden of the Fair
Night, shrouded in mist.
Claiming lives
From clutches of play
To join her in the fog

I cease to wonder what lies beyond the Fog
Do not dream, says the Spirit
No amount of prayer
Will save you. Life is not fair!
You must fight for your Life -
But wait! I spot something amiss

I walk side by side with her, mystified
Seeing people, chained in fog
Devoid of Life
Serving the spirit with their own
Never seeing daylight that’s so fair
Never seeing the fun and joy of play.

No prayer
Can help those lost in mist
Entrapped in their own fair
world of gold and diamonds and mirrors that fog
Up, haunted by the cold Spirit,
They live, but do not live

Oh, they think their Life
Is meaningful, is wonderful – but pray
tell, what wonder comes of enslavement to the Spirit?
An eternal confinement awaits, tricked by gold’s mystery
And logic denied by a fog
of details and questions, but no answers. They remember not of going to a Fair

Nor experiencing sunset so fair
No – they remember not of their past joy, but of their lives’
Golden shine. They see not the Fog
They speak no prayer
for escape. They see no mystery.
For there is the Spirit.

I emerge from the horrors of the alley, from the Spirit of the Fair Night’s play.
I have not lost my way, my life is guided by the child’s shadow, not hidden by mist
Or fog, but in the light, kindling my fiery spirit.

 

(image credits http://fatherdaughtertalk.blogspot.sg/)


2 Comments

Pat’s Challenge Of Concise Writing

I remember the days, though faintly, I remember the voice, soothing, of my mother singing to me, the lullaby to make me fall asleep. Being the youngest one and the last one to join the family, I was the star of everyone’s eyes. I don’t remember so clearly, but I see through my inner-eyes the scene of my mother cradling me in her arms or walking with me holding my hands, singing the lullaby to me. It was always about something to cheer me up to grow and be successful. I know them all by heart which have been told to me time and again by my family. Now I remember the time when I was 11 or 12, a no-longer child pleading my sister to sing the same lullaby to me so that I could feel that time how I must have felt when I was a small child.                      (150 words)

 

I remember faintly the days of my childhood when I would fall asleep by the sweet lullaby, about something to cheer me up to grow and be successful, being sung to me by mother. Being the youngest one in the family, I was a star in myself. I remember the lullaby by heart. I also remember the time when I was 12 asking my sister to sing the lullaby to me so that I can cherish the feeling I had once experienced.            (82 words)

 

I remember my childhood and my 12th year listening to the lullaby, the latter one for getting childhood experience again.                                (20 words)

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