She loves working in the shelter
where she welcomes injured creatures in
and nurses them back to health
She hates sending them back to the wild
or having to give them up for adoption
But she must let them go
and go home to her love ones
whom she receives care and be rejuvenated
to care for the wounded lives
when the sun rises again
The Six Sentence Story – Twist
1 year of sweet sugar romance
1 day at a time dilution of love
1 bit of sour taste of lemon
1 lot of sweeten venom
2 to 3 years of cold hostility
1 final twist of bitter bile
Writer’s note: The real Lemonade recipe is as below
I drew this a few months ago at the beginning of pandemic lockdown. I couldn’t visit the farm to see the Autumn colours. I drew this as a consolation prize for myself.
My legs grew strong from life’s ebbs and flows
My mind became resilient to the world’s tossing waves
But my breathing had always been labourious
There had always been that void making my heart ache
Untill God sprinkled you on my daydreams
Your presence completed me at last
I am whole because of you, my missing rib
Did I give it all to all I loved?
I did!
That was the only way I knew how to love.
Do I believe love conquers all?
I do!
That is the only faith I hold fast.
Will I see the triumph of love ?
I will!
This is the only solemn pledge I will make to you.
Your smile is only as far as one second from my mind
Your face only goes away from my eyes between blinks
Your warmth breathes on me like the sun
And when it sets at dusk
Your eyes sprinkle stardust to light up my soul
But my love
We are still one breath too far
From each other
She reached out her hand in the crowd
He took hold of it and won her heart
She was scared of the honeymoon syndrome
One day he would stop holding her hand
Especially on days that she was drowning
He would be too busy to lift her up
To her surprise
He was always there next to her
His fingers interwove hers
Till his hands were wrinkled and cold
When he took his last breath
She had remained his priority
Since the day he saw her in the crowd
A collaboration with Benjamin Grossman https://benjamin-grossman.com
Her emerald beauty circled his upright being
She stretched her sublime allure to capture the snow
He felt the weight in totality
It exceeded what he could possibly endure
Most days there was a smokey haze between them
And this fog formed uneven walls
With tiny openings just wide enough
To let toxic fumes leak through
In desperation,
she let out her slow poison
He turned himself inside out to survive
But was never the same man as before
Nor she the same woman
They had interwoven
like a tree wrapped in vines
They wanted to thrive under any conditions
That’s what all lovers long to do
Tragically they couldn’t harness the moonlight
Nor grow within the embers of dying flames
A collaboration with Instagram Poetess @twinksfly
Do check out her work, amazing talent!
The fossil site was burnt to charcoal long ago
The remain of tar grease smells leathery
Sable branches drape off the ebony
The jet black raven croaks at the inky cloud
Furry spiders find their way into the midnight hollow
Standing tall amongst the ashes – of the dense foliage
That once breathe life, I stare at the smoldering ruin
With ebony flush under solar flashes, from winds that blew hard
The charred skeleton of a home, by standing, barbequing beams’ brewing
The warm evenings where crickets hovered, as the sun set
The ironbark veranda, where the kids giggled, has become a fret
Bush by bush, the fire swept, up to the garden fence
Up to the now charcoal front door, in her embrace I cense
The scent which bloomed through the air from roses red
When the delicate petals danced gaily soaking garden with vibrant colors
Now a tombless tombstone festooned by the wreath of flesh red
Lay witness with a heavy aroma of death of the dreadful summer
And my gaze walks through the charred husk that once was a car
As I remember the loud inferno, overwhelming senses, from afar
Wondering where was a freight train running at this hour
Knowing even if it was by the lake’s edge, it would become char
Every morning, with sun’s first ray, I look at the calves playing on the rubble and say
As the flaring tragedies trail throttles the screams frail
I stand still, a mute spectator of the worst-case scenario of when forecasts fail
It’s going to come again, the skies are still gray, are you counting the day
Furry spiders find their way into the midnight hollow
As the jet black raven croaks at the inky cloud
And sable branches drape off the ebony
While the remains of tar grease smell leathery
This fossil site was burnt to charcoal long ago
WordPress updated the format of post layout
I am struggling to learn the new format
Not that I want to be a dinosaur 🦕
I just don’t like the new blocks
They gave a real spacious layout
I feel suddenly my words are inedequate
