warm sun radiates
through the blue sky
the perfect match of
bitter coffee
and raisin toast
make an irresistible
delight
my mind colours
the day
in happy notes
played in
paradise
imagination gives wings
hovering above
four walls
my spirit leaps
disguised as
a dragonfly
Let's go
outside
in daylight
counting each moment
alive
a gift
of surprise
Category: Poetry and Prose
A Battered Coin
he lost his value
battered and bruised
lying wasted in a laneway
she saw him
and was so happy
to pick him up
and make him
her luck penny
he hated to be soaked
in vinegar and salt
she scrubbed him shining
he became her treasure
Silence as Rejection
We can't communicate with silence.
Silence makes everything paused.
We can't make peace in silence.
Silence is a punishment for a decision we made.
We can't reconcile in silence.
Silence choke all the good memory we shared.
We can't celebrate the good times in our past alone.
Now you have your silence.
We have rejection.
Unsure
I am not sure if I ever want forever good dreams end in waking real dreams never come true I am only sure of this moment if my heart feels warm and fuzzy if my mind is at peace I am not sure how to live in tomorrows when it comes to the issue of my heart and the matter of love
Small Variation
This is written for The Living Poetry August visual prompt
Butterfly is a halo effect.
The B word lands on one's lips.
It becomes hope and triumph.
One should take a closer look.
Not all butterflies are born equal
or fly in resurrected freedom.
Some are more splendor in looks.
Some are midiocre at best.
Some are just ugly moths die trying hard.
Butterfly is a spectrum.
Butterfly effect lies in the small details.
Limitless
This is written for Vague Souls Unite weekly prompt.
What if, the sky isn't the limit?
When the kite broke off to fly
without the string to guide
flying even higher
beyond sight
Limitless
is its hope
to dance freely
without restriction
let no untrained hand to limit
its eager creativity from breaking free
The Forbidden Fruit
the cast iron farm bell calls in the fruit pickers
a wholesome lunch with colourful seasonal fruits
spreading on a quiet embroidered pastoral tablecloth
they are just a bunch of jovial young lads
scoffing down a meal
bantering as dessert
but you
you are reserved
quietly crunching on a Granny Smith
fixated on an open book
at the edge of the sun
they don't get you
you come freshly in the morning
sharp witted in a checkered shirt
with a tinge of bitterness
aloof to the rest
so they call you 'Pomelo'
somewhat endearing
and you like it
for it is forbidden
Empathy
She begs the sun to bleach her brain Too many diseases, disorders Too much hatred and grief She endures with them Their trauma cuts into her green aura Slices her past open through the bolted door Rusty locks and cracked timber She feels cold feet on dirty soil The dampness of moss infested walls The mind torturing plop of the dripping tap How her porcelain face longs for the gentle sun Her world is split into two She is the bridge, the hand to carry them from then to now she resists the grip of the past "Hold on to the warm sun" she whispers Before her eyes The dark shadows, dim cellar, cold winter fading and peeling off like chalk drawings She begs the sun to bleach her brain laying golden shimmers on canvas filled with light and warmth
Humility
A proud woman got down on her knees
and cried out to God
' I can't, but You can!'
She was delivered.
Everytime she wanted to gossip,
she did the same.
The woman is no longer a gossiper.
Waste
I was walking in idle steps down the park brown grass dry wind A woman with grey hair wearing plastic bags to keep warm laughing mumbling in her own merry world Why am I so sad so depressed got out of a warm bed in snug clothes I keep walking aimlessly to nowhere but following the woman She suddenly becomes my focal point and the only highlight I can recall in my pethetic expired life
Flicker of Thoughts 