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.
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.
Childhood should be a place
where the skies are fields full
of lumbering elephants, the daffodils
always glad to see you, and dreams
like rabbits that, if you are still enough,
long enough, will lay right down
in the grass beside you.
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)
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.
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…
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.
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…
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!
