Poems Come To Life When Tired Tongues Are Silent
Slave to wayward thoughts,
unwritten poems return to haunt.
Tempest of tragedy arrives as a harbinger,
wrecking fences that divide sleeping paths.
There is no one to show the way.
Father's sins betray,
mother's tongue destroys.
Punishing a misled mind,
to ponder unwanted silence.
Time is no friend, so much is lost in translation.
Perturbed by forgotten promises,
heart becomes a victim to the void,
broken dreams have left behind.
Although a victor of emotional battles,
scars sting, like salt rubbed into wounds.
Soul unable to bare suppressed burdens,
admits defeat to mental adversities.
Life is like a portrait,
moving in slow motion.
Its black and white hues,
highlight uncertainties of future passages,
reminding of regrets from past passengers -
pausing present foretold destinies.
Life is a crossroad of two mismatched meadows,
one full of blossoms blooming through gain,
one full of brambles hiding childhood treasures.
Yet all flowers eventually die,
brambles sting, but can be cleared.
Life is an ephemeral eclipse -
a balance between light and darkness.
Questions will always overbalance answers.
Change is unpredictable like the September sun.
A dilemma of chance and choice,
expressed through analogies and metaphors
poems come to life,
when tired tongues are silent.
The Silent One
15 September 2019
Example for the Crossroads contest
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