The fortune teller
makes their living
on men’s curiosity
The weather man
makes their success
on men’s insecurity
Amazon Yesterday
makes its fortune
on men’s impatience
But when men build
the kingdom of God
which transcends time
and space
The Artist
Heaven plops
blobs of paint
on a quiet morning
like a canvas ready
to receive creation
The still lake
holds up the sky
like a verdant earth
props up the easel
The brush strokes
of the autumn wind
depicts a love story
for a daydreamer
to savour
Emotional Reasoning
Everything is spinning
out of control.
I rather be angry.
In that way,
at least,
I can do something
about whatever
that is eating me up.
The alternative
is sadness,
and that renders me
powerless.
It surely
will finish me.
Phase of Life
The realisation that I am getting old and tired comes from the cynicism. Many things once were adventurous and exciting, now are like chores.
Taking a walk in the light rain is overrated. Nursing a cold afterwards kills all romantic notion.
Love making on the beach is overrated. Dealing with cleaning the collected sand is a chore of the century.
Staying up to watch the midnight firework at a vantage point is overrated. Fighting a spot to lay on a picnic rug to wait for hours to watch the fireworks is time consuming and value inapt.
Real comfort now comes from resting a cuppa on my gut and watching true crimes in my pajamas.
Disaster Recovery
A tree
torn and shredded
by violent wind
collapses in fragments
is a tree no more
Months pass
no one can help
that cursed tree
bear fruits
until the will
to live
take roots
Then
it starts over
slowly
in the right season
it yearns for
the sun
again
We see
one fragment
of green
pushing through
the dirt
Dark Mood
My thoughts
get stuck
in a thick tar swamp
knowing
that I am drowning
further below
but not quite
the end
Struggling is useless
Letting go is impossible
Tangled in poison syrup
In pitch dark night sky
all the stars
give up on me
They blink out
So
I settle in
being lost
dying alive
alone
Apology Unaccepted
Today I receive
an apology
from her
for not being able
to put herself together
after many falls
I don’t understand
why does she even apologise
for things
are no fault of her own
She insists
that wasting my time
is an offence
even there seems to
be valid reasons
I can’t help
but think
she is an inspiration
for the fact that
she takes responsibility
respects my time
and still hopes
to put herself
back together
again
and again
and again
Diminuendo
This is written based on Living Poetry’s music prompt Claire de Lune
I stand
Under the red silk cotton tree
replay the journey of our life
in specks of blossom
hung high
in the azure sky
The rush of new love passion
The heartbreak sharp pain
The resigned regrets
The hope filled spring time
There is no word
that encompassing
all this fullness
of life
Let the music
play on
in ebb and flow
relive every moment
of our past
till the sky
turns grey
and my heart
sinks again
into moonlight
A Sole Parent
This poem was written using this drawing practice as a prompt.
Drawing is a process
of getting to know him
more
through the fine lines
he acquired
from the pain
of raising them
alone
Drawing of an old man (in progress)
Closure
The light bulb
of the nightstand
has gone off
She finally
stops counting
how many nights
he hasn’t been
home
She gets up
and dresses
in morning dew
planting her roses
with his ashes
Flicker of Thoughts 