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Sunday 29 September 2013

Poem: Where the starlight begins

Photo by Catrin Welz-Stein (http://catrinwelzstein.blogspot.de/)



Where the starlight begins, we see a hazy vision of tomorrow.
In the silent corner of the night we dream of impossible dreams.
In search for a way to ignite them, growing stilts we borrow.
Where the starlight begins - we see a hazy vision of tomorrow!
Undying hunger to return to the sun, left us in sorrow.
Strange comfort we take in electric moon beams.
Where the starlight begins, we see a hazy vision of tomorrow.
In the silent corner of the night - we dream of impossible dreams!

*
 Poem prompted by dVersePoets. I also wanted to try Triolet poetry form.

Poem: Throwing rocks of their imagination through books




THROWING ROCKS
I found you in the glass shattering into space
I've slept on your shoulders and curled up at your feet
helped you shape your memories
as we played between right and wrong 
                     between real and fake
but your mind kept waiting
demanding something more
like a flower in a dry land
 
let's take a walk through a house
where children's dreams are caught
tables and chairs were battlefields 
                          OF THEIR IMAGINATION
the halls through which their fears haunt
the thrilling sense of wild spirits
caged somewhere in their youth
escaping into a kaleidoscope 
                THROUGH BOOKS
gazing at the lighthouse in the dust storm
the secret code to board the ship lingered on my tongue
I remember as if it was the last time

*
Inspired by Sigur Ros -Varúð

Saturday 21 September 2013

Poetry: Dream of a stone



i.
stones covered with sea foam
letters of your name wrapped around my tongue
as if it was a sin, gently and softly
another wave rushes in rapidly
no one can hear our game of love



ii.
hidden pathways in early frost
beneath the tree a deer crossed
wanderer with cold toes
questioning the road he chose
for all the sunlight seems lost



iii.
rushing morning rays
glimmer in bees' wings
beyond the horizon they dive
into flowery embrace
living is a phase



iv.
dream of a stone
seeds grown
roots pecking
softly nesting
the droplets of dawn


v.
snow storm in a bowl
trails of a melancholic soul
clouds of innermost affection
calling for connection
down the rabbit hole

 *
Something new I tried for Real Toads. Writing Tanka. I had fun writing these, it was the first time as well, so maybe there will be a second time.