I struggled not to write
Sigh! I can not stay away
Eyes lust to see words dance
Strike at ideas that want to stay.
Inside my heart the longing grew
denied the warm sunshine of words
cried my soul till suffocation reached,
tried excuses lead me back home wards.
This is my first try at the Poetry form Lento .
Prompted @ PAD [ Poem a Day ]
Canopy of stars above,
Aromas of the woods around,
Moon singing lullaby
Projecting from the clouds,
In the lap of nature we lie
No longer worried of bugs,
Good thing we got repellant !
Prompted @ March Challenge (Day -1 : Camping)
With flowers in her tiny hands
the girl dressed in red ran, clutching
sheets of old paper along, the
pulled up socks sticking on top,
upon the head lay hat with crokked seam,
over her shoulders, the dress flew. in
your dreams might unravel her a(part)
head lost for heart , my life over death
I knew it was her, who had held the grip.
Prompted @ Poetry tow Truck
Lines used for the prompt are from Amy’s poem :
with the sheets pulled up over your head,
hands clutching the top seam in a death grip.
We are each the love of someone’s life
Just am not in yours; nor you in mine.
I lie not when i say i wish this was true
’cause i loved you,but never realized !
’cause i loved you,but never realized !
until i saw you as love of someone’s life
I lie not when i say am happy for you
i don’t deserve your love,nor you mine.
i don’t deserve your love,nor you mine
I lie not when i say,quite late i realized
am happy,of my love,none ever had cue,
i fear i would have lost your friendship too.
i now fear to lose your friendship in life.
I lie not when i say,quite late i realized
We are each the love of someone’s life
I was never yours,you are one of mine.
Prompted @ Carry on Tuesday , where the prompt was to use the opening of The Confessions of Max Tivoli by Andrew Sean Greer, 2004 in your post.
Also Submitted to Big Tent Poetry.
Who
was he
to have build
“elegy in marble”
did he really act noble
when the men so skilled
lost hands for what was created
no love is this selfish;is it ?
(This poem is an experimental trial at mixing rhymes with syllables. by attempting rhyming pattern of abcddcba to the syllable count of 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8.)
Prompted @ Sunday Scribblings and One Single Impression
Story behind the poem : Taj Mahal(Agra, India) is called the “elegy in marble” the tomb of Queen Mumtaz, build in her memory on orders from his husband, king Shah Jahan. There is also a rumor that the king got the hands of the artisans chopped off after the completion of Taj Mahal, so that no other such building could ever be built again. More on this myth/tale here