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)


2 Comments

Of sunsets and swings – a sestina

The subtle glimmers of first light
Begin their charming
Magic on the green grass where swings Lie
The ancient encasement dropped
And burdened swings slowly bow
Then rise

Yet the swing with its rose
It couldnt outmatch the light
Slashing through the trees’ bow
No soul could it charm
For even as rain drops
The lifeless swings lay.

The lifeless swings lie
To themselves, they cannot beat the sunrise
Nor the golden sunrays dripping
From the sky. The swings’ own Light -
Merely a glint of a bracelet charm
Flashing just as an arrow leaves a bow

The swings threaten to bow
For it tells itself, lie, lie, lie -
As no charm
Could get the swing to rise
Like a new arising light

I hear a leaky tap – drip
drip.
The tears of the swings. It bows
Down to demands of the light
And resolves itself to lie
Forever. With a dead rose
The swing has lost his charm

But when night comes, the swing is charming
For when the curtains of light drop
The darkness unfolds. Then swings’ glow rises
Its now that it takes its final bow
The swing creeps into where shadows of the night lie
It has found its Light.

No more charming the day, for the bowl
Of sorrow is too great too drop – the sun does not lie.
Night, the swing rises. The night, the swing lights.


4 Comments

To Return to Me

little girl with your dotted bonnet
won’t you
tell me the secret
you hide in your smile…
the thoughts that
surround your silent laughter…
and the dreams that
fuel your desire for life -
to devour every second…
to live…to love…to be free…
tell me…won’t you?…
no, won’t you show me instead?…
let me share your secrets…
let me drown in your thoughts…
let me embrace your dreams – as my own…
and maybe then
i might be able to weave
dreams of my own…and
see life like you do…like i used to -
with hope…and color…and sunshine -
like a child…

 

photo: http://www.etsy.com/listing/101602066/a-moment-original-painting-by-maria-pace


Autumn

Falling.

Falling.

Into the pit of despair
Into the trough of despondence

The boy fell.

Not a sheer drop nor steep descent
But a slow,
Painful slide.

Not a scream nor a cry
But a chorus of mocking laughter
Accompanying his stifled sobs.

Not a word of comfort nor a gesture of warmth
But a mob of bees, their incessant buzzing
Stinging.

The boy tumbled.

He groped around in darkness, contemplating,
Should I? Should I not?
Eternal confinement, or
Eternal contempt?

He could just end it all.

Stay at the bottom of the pit forever.

Let go of the cruel world.

Just leave.

And in the fall he will burn a bright orange. Glowing with joy.

And after the fall the rest will wilt.

 

 

http://www.sorrowsinaserenade.wordpress.com


The Stairs That Just Were There

The Stairs (SwittersB)

They were always a pleasant set of stairs given the low angle. I don’t believe I ever sat on those stairs. I ran up and down them, in a hurry to play. I do recall that people I loved went down those stairs by various means never to return up those stairs again. Now I have left those stairs and with no need to go up them again, I notice them.


Rainy Weekend

heavy clouds..unrelenting rain…
bed weather and cold winds
stifle my plans for Saturday…
crossed out picnic and lunch,
shredded the thought of taking
a stroll in the nearby park…

maybe i’ll put on my rain boots
and my raincoat..or run free and
go dance silly under the rain
like my 8-year old self
some 20 years ago…


1 Comment

Farewell.

It’s time.

The clocks strike 10 and a half.
It’s our last meeting. Together.

It’s quiet.

Winds blow a sad tune
An eerie song. It rains and
Sky weeps in sorrow.

I hear the chattering of the dust spirits.
Animatedly, discussing their latest
Victims

I smooth the creases on my pretty
Black dress.
Sitting on the bed, decorated with the pretty
White flowers.

A row of soldiers stand proudly before me
The slanting silver of lightning flashes across their faces
Then vanishes -
Their swords sheathed.

I will miss you.
Your warm fluffiness that calmed my paranoia of darkness
Your listening ear that heard
the soft whispers from my heart.

Farewell, Friend,
Farewell, Comforter,
Farewell, Protector.

I thank you, and
I make you an angel.

I cry.

It’s time,
The last time.

I pick up the charred remains
Fondling the broken wings of my unicorn

It flies no more.

 

 

childhood

Fast Friends

13 Comments

Fast Friends

My grand daughter (on right) saw a little girl she had never met at the local Nature Center, ran up, said, “Hi!” and grabbed her hand. They danced and played together down the pathways the entire time we were there. At the end of our visit, their moms exchanged phone numbers. It is amazing how children can see life and joy so simply. Their delight is pure and honest. How refreshing!


8 Comments

All Of My Truth by comatose joyy

All Of My Truth [28 Jun 2012|10:03pm]

comatose_joyy

I saw you standing there hoping to be freed.

Your hands were cuffed behind your back, you were screaming at me.

That was the day I became all alone.

Loneliness fled through me as your true colors were shown.

I’ll hold you tight like a baby to it’s mom.

leaning on you, wishing all this was gone.

You then looked me in the eyes, told me it was ok.

It was alright but you couldn’t stay.

They were taking you away, the took me too.

Not my body, just all of my truth.

It was stolen from inside, taken without cause.

I am now just a lie, waiting for the applause.

My acting have improved because its all a show.

My lips don’t move, I’m so perfect for this role.

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