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New Moving On Poems

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Slowly moving on love by davis, robin
Moving On by Trim, Nick
Moving On Up by Adewuyi, Adejumoke
Moving On by Oussifi, Shawn
Moving On by Melanson, Jessie
moving on by parker, cs
Moving On by Greene, Anna
The journey of moving on by natasha, elya
Moving On by Hughes, Mark
Moving On by Closet, Golden

View all new Moving On Poems

The Best Moving On Poems

Details | Moving On Poem |

A beautiful mirror

-Escape of the mountain-

Do you care about my breast?
The new curve - countryside corset. 
The beauty of every summer dress 
Laying down, wearing out gravity 
Embracing the same feeling; Your
hands indulged in. Passion and devotion, 
around perfumed scenery... 
     The perfect pair

Today we will pray,
Counting every second on the clock 
No longer the womanly figure before'
I will possess a new battle, 
around the virtues of my palace.

-Will you still be there, 
  when the hump and lump are gone?
-Will I still be the queen of your heart?
Patiently I shall wait and see, 
 in hopes to gain the time, breast cancer stole 
Leaving behind torn tissue, with a daily reminder of;
The one that got away.

---note---
A Focus on Breast Cancer

Details | Moving On Poem |

Big Girls do Cry

They expected her to be the jolly fun one.
The one   w e a r i n g   a smile on her face.
So she became.....who they wanted her to be
She was quick with her wit, telling her practiced fat jokes.
It was a pre-emptive strike of sorts
her attempt to remove the target
from what some thought was her "considerable ***".
Never again wanting to be the "butt" of people's jokes!

She remembers the year she was "Chubby Checker"
the year her parents gave her that checkered jacket
she also remembers how hard she cried.
They laughed, and one boy sang 
"Big Girls Don't Cry----- they don't cry!"
She vowed to herself on that very day
"I will never ever cry again!"

There were the many diets
the yo yo effect..."Yo big girl, lookin good"
 Friends asking her “have you lost weight?"
Those "good for you’s!!!!
The attention felt good in a way
but the weight she'd lose seemed to come back the next day.
Somehow the cursed food felt like her only true friend
the only one on whom she could depend.
The food never judged her
instead it filled the empty sad part
the part that weighed nothing
yet felt like it weighed a thousand pounds!
The part that felt lighter when she was full
it somehow felt like a hug from the inside.

She stopped eating in public
not wanting to hear comments like
"she could do without that ice cream."
There were also the buffet comments
"She's going to get her money's worth!"
Still what hurt even worse
were the nice people
the trying to be kind people
the ones who felt sorry for her people
Saying "all you need to do is lose a few pounds." 
or "you have such a pretty face." 
Some people would tell her "You're just big boned."
Then there was comment she hated the most
"You have such a great personality!" 
For she knew it was all part of the "Fat Girl Show"
the persona she had gifted to them.

Then came the day
that epic day she stopped joking.
When she smiled when she wanted to smile
when she dressed in the ways she wanted to dress.
She embraced the form she was given
she celebrated all her curves.
She decided to eat when she was hungry
nourishing and loving her body
she allowed colorful foods to occupy her plate.
Strangely, she started losing some weight
but it wasn't her goal
for inside she was becoming whole.
Skinny was not who she needed to be!
When tears came she allowed them to flow free
she was no longer her own enemy
The more she cried
the less she felt her empty.

She learned, everyone
y e s.... everyone,
has some kind of insecurity!
No one is completely who they wish to be
some have hidden bits
others are more obvious,
even if   some are somewhat oblivious.
She now has learned to be a compassionate witness
one who is much kinder to herself
she doesn’t keep her thoughts on a shelf
So, when others make jokes
or give painful pokes...
She tells them "That's hurtful and it's not okay",
"I am who I am and I'm perfect this way!"
Maybe next time they will consider what they say.
For today and tomorrow and every other day forward
she is more than some number on a scale that she weighs
or some joke in an insensitive phrase.
She now can be and see her true self in extraordinary ways.

Details | Moving On Poem |

WALLPAPER

WALLPAPER

---------------------
Paper Thin
Cut down to any size,
Crumble, crop me wrong 
Pull the insulation from my heart.
Never will I be "A Paper Doll!"
Thank you for calling me a "Friend!"
Thank you for wasting  my "time!"
Enjoy the WALLPAPER display
---------------------

Layers and layers of lifeless brick
KEEPS EVERYTHING OUT! 
Emotional poster boards of doubt 
Envious fiberglass green never seen
Yuletide Carols warped around my energy
Merry and full of acrylic sh!t-
Hand full of putty maintains the makeup on my face
Arts and crafts display my inner fancy grace
Heavy installed Sheetrock so easily replaced

Tough paint chips away silently through the night
Rigid boards transform into fragile crystal light
The greatest illusion blinding reality 
Smooth Tiger Skin, texture of orange simple peel  
Beautiful mud swirl, L'Oreal.
Gypsum soft enough you want to touch

Dark walls of a thousand words
A plasterboard of discordant grey notes
Blots and clots of ink, enslave my skin  
Colorless drywall, resilient to your charms  

Printed designs of cleverly decorated lipstick 
Morbid shadows underneath the ceiling veil
A double coat of Pacific Waterproof Blue-
Printing bags from -- YESTERDAY!

Plastered wounds of cement dry and roughens along the edge
A human-made barrier, not even God comes in.

by;PD

Details | Moving On Poem |

BASTARD

"All Children Are Beautiful"

His heart of white,   deep shallow wells,   -yet beautiful
He smirks with a grin,  an ego that won't let me in' -he's beautiful
Bastard of beauty,   running ashes without a name
A face with no claim, a young man pound from shame 
What is his sin,  -he's beautiful!
I want to breathe from his ashes, swim through his veins
I want him to come into my light, like a good man

I sing and tell a tale, "A Bastard through the night"
His eyes I wage a thousand times,  young and poor, I felt saved
Lying down in the arms of my white knight
My hair perfectly caressed,   he came to my light
The furnace burned, the night was fast becoming trite
A lover,  he did it well,   then went back to his wife
A moment of gold,  the ages live,   his son is born
   "He Was Beautiful!"

Another Bastard brought into this world

Details | Moving On Poem |

Memories - Episode 1

It is said that eyes are the windows into ones soul
If truth be told they reflect ones innermost feelings
The girl observes her with earnest inquisitive eyes
Her most striking feature - green eyes flecked with gold.

Braided neatly is her long thick brown hair
She has a smattering of freckles on her upturned nose
Just enough to give her a somewhat cute look
But the most fascinating is her impenetrable stare

A stare, which makes her feel awkward - in this sickly blue room
Drab and clinical like most hospital rooms are
She wears a hospital gown and was brought in here they tell her
By some kindly soul who found her wandering
Not knowing who she is - nor from where she came
She doesn’t have a clue of what her name is
A girl without a past, is a girl without a future

The images she has swirling in her head
Roll in and out like the endless waves
That she would like to keep at bay
That a part of her wants to resist instead

But they merge one with the other
Like the wind and the surf
Again and again lapping the shore
Sounds trying to break through a blur

Waves of emotion wash over her
Her past memories - hers to keep - hers to hold
Like deep rooted trees - roots lodged in
Are now hidden secrets from her past?
She feels that some things can never be cast into oblivion
Yet some nets no matter how far cast out to sea
Do not bring back answers blowing in the whisper of the wind

Whispers in her ears that fade into lurking silhouettes
Into her subconscious seeming familiar faces slink back into regress

Aren’t some memories best to be forgotten?
Connected to these shadows that remain to haunt?
Will tomorrow’s sunrise bring them back?
The self-destructive memories so misbegotten

When memories from ones past are all wiped clean
How can emotions remain behind to torment?
Why does she feel an unaccountable sense?
Of déjà vu combined with futility and fear between?

Trying to trigger a response they ask a thousand questions
Making her brain hurt trying to remember Who? What? Why? Where?
She looks across at the girl, does she know things about her?
Could she tell her if she’s some mother’s daughter? Is she some man’s love?
A sensory overload of emotions drives her to anguish

The nurse gently puts the mirror back in her hand
Urging her to keep looking,
She tells her that sometimes it triggers a memory
She looks at the mirror 
The girl with the green eyes 
Looks back at her

Braided neatly is her long thick brown hair
She has a smattering of freckles on her upturned nose
Just enough to give her a somewhat cute look
She looks disenchanted - gone is her penetrating stare

Memory is not just where she left the keys
It is the essence of who she is
But the silence is still unbroken
And only stillness remains

Midnight - and she finds herself at the window
Gazing at a moon that no doubt reflects her feelings
Did she experience love in a man’s arms
Did she dance in happiness beneath the glow?

Perhaps sunrise will bring a new morning
Perhaps with it her memories
And she knows she must not give in
To fears of a fatalistic warning

Because from midnight to the morning’s sun
Is after all when new memories will begin
Unlocking a new Life and Hope renewed?
Look! A New Day has already begun!

Stay tuned for next Episode
Continued in ... 'Blind Terror' - (Memories Episode 2)

Episode list in consecutive order:
Memories - Episode 1
Blind Terror - (Memories Episode 2)
Wistful Expectations - (Memories Episode 3)
Deception - (Memories Episode 4)
Run Run As Fast As You Can - (Memories Episode 5)
Running - (Memories Episode 6)

Music Video Clip Published on Oct 21, 2016
'Memory' by Gheorghe Zamfir

Details | Moving On Poem |

Dark Storm

Into the darkness
No fear to be found
Echoing silence
Noiseless sound

A new beginning
That feels like the end
Blown away
But there is no wind

A storm is brewing
Yet the sky is clear
Sobbing and shaking
Without shedding a tear

My soul is drowning
My eyes are dry
I cannot live
I cannot die

A shattered heart beats
The pounding I hear 
Into the darkness
I will have no fear

Details | Moving On Poem |

Houston we have a problem

"When returning love, becomes to Late"

Fantastic,
From her eyes
His name the name
She mumbles silently 
3 rivers, 3 years, 2 many tears
She loves him endlessly

Sending her soul
A free feeling, 
Finally, he fell
Engaging, equal to the spell
Morning, mountains and more
Move across a new age moon
His heart happily 
Traveling towards hers
Dashing dandy, onto her dinner plate 
Too long she waited, 
She's not hungry, her heart self healed 

3 rivers 3 years 2 late
Her tears faded his rusty name 

SKAT

Details | Moving On Poem |

- When The Backpack Feels Heavy -

 

    Hold on tight 
    A journey begins 
    Not in the crowded city streets 
    A journey of high mountains 
    as close to heaven 
    that you think you can catch the stars 
    Pack your backpack with sad thoughts 
    Upwards ... the bag is heavy 
    I will hold you in your hand 
    Stop ... take a deep breath 
    Your journey has begun 
    Proud high mountains suddenly makes the backpack a little lighter 
    Follow your feet forward
    The air is crisp and fresh 
    Even if you are tired 
    Lower your shoulders 
    I'll teach you to dance on the sparkling snow 
    Our goal is the top 
    The backpack feels lighter 
    Do not give up - we will reach our peak 
    Heavy thoughts erased 
    Abrasions and tired feet 
    Satisfaction - a major force 
    The goal is reached ... you won 
    Dance in the sparkling snow ... catch your star 
    The backpack is empty 
    The whole world is at your feet




    21.05.2014
    A-L  Andresen :)
    Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Details | Moving On Poem |

BLUE MOON RISING ON A STORMY NIGHT - TITLES CONTEST

Blue moon rising 
on a stormy night
I sit sobbing 
without you
 
Sadness, 
when we fell out of love
The point of no return, 
drifting apart
You broke my heart, 
my fragile heart
 
Now you're gone, 
I'm missing you
Guess it's over
Tell me why
 
Whispers on the wind
Words:
disappointment
dejection
disillusioned
rejection
 
A true tragic tale
heartbreak 
loneliness, 
sad eyes 
a single tear
 
Reflections 
in the moment 
precious moments 
carry me away...
The scent of your soul 
breath of love
shadows from the past
personal memories
 
After the rain 
I will survive 
letting go
Spring is coming soon
a new beginning
inner peace


Best Titles Contest
Sponsored by Laura Loo

(Every Line used is the original title of one of my poems)

June 11th 2017

Details | Moving On Poem |

Who Silence The Silent One

On a reminiscing of a poet I thought I would make a call
 
But on searching for this name sake I was left appalled

The name "Silent One" was clearly there to be seen
 
But of all his works - it was if they had never been
 
What happened "Oh Silent One" and who had silenced all your words
 
Seemed our friend had been picked on by no greater than a - "Turd"

Whatever the reason "Oh Silent One" left us - he has now returned

With this experience behind him and hopefully with a lesson learnt

I hope to see all the blank pages refilled with words and poems of old

And whoever took it upon themselves a greater punishment be doled

Their cruelty and indignations not worth from us all a second glance

As "Oh Silent One" returns to forgive and give us all a second chance

Of an art that can only be held by "Oh Silent One" as the maestro he is

Because honouring us with his enlightenments - is really truly the "Biz"


Welcome back "Oh Silent One" . . . 

Indiana . . . ; )

Details | Moving On Poem |

Never Surrender

I'm a grit teeth beginner breaking out the cage,
growing stronger and fitter with wit coming of age,
squeezing letters out of lemons got me in a rage,
but this bitter will get better and steal the stage.

I'm out to lay a new way suitable to a renegade,
angrily squashing this yellow fruit into lemonade,
using the skin to pave a golden route in the trade,
writes rooted in the age of this transitional upgrade.

No scourge can submerge the courage I preserve
under the surface, that purrs with an urge
to hand carve words with power and purpose,
this marvellous occurrence repeatedly emerges  
and surges undoubtedly delivering superb verses.

Attempts to pull curtains on my spirit,
only teach knowledge that I inherit,
I react and catch before impact to my merit
and you can't collapse the soul of this poet.

Everyone falls but my core's impenetrable,
and my mental resilience is unbreakable,
they can't remove something unshakeable,
trying is a mistake that'll make you miserable.

I've learnt to benefit from attempted attacks 
aimed to prevent the way that I vent and act,
catching the weaponry and adding to my stack,
I've a determination that I'll never let crack. 

I'll elevate as I stimulate with flow,
and levitate the audience to show,
I'm able to continuously demonstrate
that my work is something to celebrate,
even though my opinion will make them hate.

Coming back is what I do,
don't make me come back for you!

Details | Moving On Poem |

White Angels

How many roses since have come and gone?
he thought as he sat looking at her grave.
How many futures had been staked upon
those brilliant blooms to her he often gave?

What stiff buds like hands in prayer since drawn
in oils on canvas did she seem to crave?

“White angels,” she did sing the day they wed.
Again he placed them here now she was dead,
as he'd done each year upon her birthday.

The emerald garden and granite stones
still looked untouched. The olive trees now swayed
as ever had in June. As white as bones,
statues silent, but proud as gods portrayed,
were yet his marble friends and not undone
by tears. My Angel White was she when wed,
he mused again, his feelings still unsaid.

A thousand memories like ivy spill
over the wall behind his quiet chair.

Such fervent whispers in a windless chill
go through his head of sparse and silver hair.

So many letters from an inkless quill
he wrote alone as though they'd reach her there.

A thousand roses white as angels tread
upon his dreams, keep singing in his head.

But now the car was packed, the house was sold.

Their young sons all were grown and since moved out.

He blurted forth, “My darling, now I'm old.
The boys are grown and all are strong and stout;
I know that you'll be safe within their fold.
I must move, have a life that's now about
the years that I have left. I'll always hold
those times we had as precious as though gold.”

He stood and put the chair into the car.

He cried upon the freeway for some time,
the new life in the desert still afar
from coastal past and reminiscent clime.

A new home that he'd found could be on par
with what he'd now let go. Had come the time
when he must vanquish sacred angels white.

And thus he drove into the coming night.

8/20/17

Details | Moving On Poem |

After The Storm

Lightning flashed, blinded my innocent, trusting eyes.
Thunder ravaged my soul, and forced out my cries.

Destructive winds threatened, ripped me all apart.
Raindrops, the tears that ever flooded my heart.

Dark clouds were ever-present, in turbulent air.
Yet, no winds could stir the flowers in my hair.

No longer waiting for that storm to pass the hill.
I left it behind, and walked away by my own will.

A rainbow shined beautifully, yet arched into a frown.
As every now and then, the rain still comes down.

I have stepped right over you, like scattered debris.
As the sun's rays now light down a new path for me.





For Shanity Rain's contest - "After The Storm"

Details | Moving On Poem |

Mirror Ball

I'm sure this hill is where it stood.
Amazing shapes of stuccoed wood.
A glass-brick, neon stream-lined place.
As if it flew from outer space,

A swing band auditorium,
An Art Deco emporium,
When romance, innocent in pace,
From dancing to a teasing chase.

The town grew west in modern haste
And down it came, without a trace.
The war and culture's change in taste,
Predestined doom, the past erased.

The future sighs, with solemn face
The wrecking ball, the glittered waste
No plaque to read "Historic Sight".
The swirling dust, a dance goodnight.


Gene Bourne
08-01-14
.

Details | Moving On Poem |

IT'S OVER

You thought you’d make a fool of me
I was so blind but now I see
So now you’ve had your little joke
Guess I’m just warning other folk

You’d look at me with those bedroom eyes
But your tender words I now despise
You broke my heart through and through
Well honey I’ve got some news for you

Your designer clothes are now in rags
Packed up inside black plastic bags
Your cars been scratched and it’s got a dent
Your name has been taken off the rent

You love to flirt, but you’re a cheat
You’re just like a dog on heat
But I’m now aware of your little game
No man will hurt me ever again

Don’t get taken in by charming men
They use you and just start again
From now on I am in control
Hey man you’re just a big *******


24th July 2014

Contest 101 in a row ~10 sponsored by PD Linda:-)

Details | Moving On Poem |

Pleasures of Moving on Moon

Pleasures of Moving on Moon


You have always charmed us by your beauty, O Moon,
Sometimes fascinating Heer and Ranjha*, and sometimes,
Mesmerizing Romeo and Juliet.

Sometimes you have spread your charms, on the monuments of Love, 
Alluring the beauty of Taj*, in the full moon light of Purnamasi*
O, Moon how many faces of Love and Beauty you have,
When you stroll silently on a snow covered maintain,
The beauty and your grandeur becomes envy for the heaven.

For Poets and Writers you have immense stories and inspirations,
For Lovers you are more precious than gold and diamond,
For singers you are like the soul of their songs,
For Boatman’s, you are their sole companion of their silence and turbulence.

While watching you so intensely from earth,
I felt, as if I was wondering on the silver surface of you O, Moon,
Moving and feeling, no gush of wind,
No moisture of Rains and dryness of Sun,
No falling of leaves, in the season of Autumn,
No bending of rivers, flowing from mountains to oceans
No murmuring of birds while mating and chatting,
No change of seasons to engage my mind and heart,
Still I was fascinating to move on the silver surface of you, O Moon.

Walking on your surface was a strange experience for me O, dear Moon,
As I was trying to feel the unique pleasures of earth, 
While moving on your silvr surface, O Moon.

Ravindra
Kanpur India 22nd November 2010
Soon I will post this as My Photo Poem with the Photograph of Moon on my Blog and on face
book, which I took on 22nd Nov. 2010

•	Heer and Rangha. The Indian Lovers like Romeo and Juliet 
•	Purnamasi.      The Day as per Indian calendar, when we can see the full Moon.
•	Taj.                  Refers to the world famous Taj Mehal monument of Agra, India.

Details | Moving On Poem |

TANKA 3

his first day of school
classroom door is open wide
new beginnings

she peers in the mirror
how the years have flown by


03~26~15
Tanka 3 Contest Andrea Dietrich
based on modern tanka 
short long short long long syllables
~awarded 6th place~

Details | Moving On Poem |

Morning Light


The calm that comes with morning light.
Lying here... from an untroubled night.

Alone, awake after restful sleep.
No tears left, no tears to weep.

Dreaming where dreams were never seen.
Free from all that might have been.

By myself with a pristine heart,
to begin again; a brand new start.

No more fear as I arise.
No sadness here to burn my eyes.

Only peace to guide my way.
No more guilt to mar the day.

My spirit rises in the sun,
as life again has just begun.
       
written 01.20.2017

Details | Moving On Poem |

PAST PRESENT FUTURE

P erhaps it's time to let it go.
A ll that pain you suffered so.
S train on your heart and soul.
T ime to release and let go.

P eer around at your life now.
R elish the love your children give.
E njoy your work as you always have.
S it and relax at end of day.
E nergised by renewed hope.
N ever again to ever succumb
T o being abused by anyone. 

F acing the future with a smile.
U pteen reasons to celebrate. 
T he joys of living and giving.
U ncertainity will always remain.
R emember to count your blessings.
E mbrace often those you love.

21/11/2016

Details | Moving On Poem |

Nothing Left

Chorus:

If lonely is a prison...
Lord knows I've done my time
From my lying destination,
To the truth I've left behind

There's another losing diamond,
In every card I'm dealt
I'll be holding on to nothing
Until there's nothing left

Verse:

Every word my mama said
Keeps exploding in my head
Son, it's not too late to turn around

Remembering...when my daddy left
With all those promises...unkept
Me and my old man..... share common ground

Bridge:

Silence is the hammer...
Memories are the nails...
Every path to freedom
Becomes an empty trail

Heartache is the music
Every day... the fear
Too early for confession
Too late to form a tear

Chorus:

If lonely is a prison...
Lord knows I've done my time
From my lying destination
To the truth I've left behind......


Protected by copyright

Details | Moving On Poem |

as you watch me slip away

I am sands of a lonely ocean, 
sadness and other strange emotions
push from my fingers, and I write of them

I have seen the wandering in your eyes
and your smile has left me 
with doubt

I was honest, and full of love for you
more than you can fathom, 
soft, gentle, kind, 
willingly blind;
now I see
your desire to flee 

You think the churnings of my mind 
pretty words, 
yet your thoughts, you guard, 
hardly ever letting your feelings slip, 
and now, you are free
as you watch me 
slip away

Details | Moving On Poem |

Not Beautiful

they say you're not good enough
you weren't raised the right way
they say you should just be alone
no one will miss you anyway
they say that you aren't beautiful
because their mirrors never lie
they tell you not to come back again
but it's only weakness if you cry
they say you'll never find true love
because it only comes to girls like "us"
they say it's better to keep walking
because no part of you is worth the fuss
the voices deep inside your head
are the demons that you create
they tell you everything you expect to hear
those voices of contempt and of hate 
they say you're not good enough 
but if you knew who you were 
those voices wouldn't have the power
to give your heart such a stir 
they say that you're not beautiful 
and when you look in the mirror you cry
but sometimes you can't see your own beauty
because mirrors really do lie
but mirrors can shatter more easily
than the strength you've got inside
let them say what they want to say
because you have nothing more to hide.

Details | Moving On Poem |

CLOSING THE DOOR ON THE PAST

It’s been many years since I’d climbed the wooden steps to my parent’s attic. The hinges of the trap door creak and a cloud of dust rises as I push the door open. I fumble for the light switch; it takes several minutes for the dust to settle and for my eyes to become accustomed to the gloom from the single bulb.

I survey the small space, which is packed to the hilt with hidden treasures. I sit cross-legged in a cramped corner and delve one of the many boxes.

relics of childhood
packed in old cardboard boxes
I find my old bear

My mother had carefully packed away many of my old toys and keepsakes from my schooldays and high days and holidays. Oh how I laughed when I read some of the comments on my school reports and workbooks, it made for very amusing reading! I get quite emotional when I sort through photograph albums and see the faces of those who are no longer with us.

cherished memories
as I leaf through the pages
I wipe away tears

After several hours reminiscing I’ve selected a couple of items, which were once so dear to me; and then I finally close the door on the past.

Picture 3
Photostory Contest 
Sponsored by Eve Roper

11-15-17

Details | Moving On Poem |

A Tempered Glass Plate

A Tempered Glass Plate

I really can't explain how I've felt of late.
Words became shorter, time spent rare.
Becoming that obsolete glass tempered plate.
I didn't see it coming, I wasn't even aware.

Thinking our mixture, always just right.
I see it was diluted by another influence.
How could I have miss what shown so bright.
Not even any attempts at all of pursuance.

You've grown and for me lost your need.
As with tempered glass allowed myself weak.
So I bow out gracefully, take your lead.
Doesn't matter if its you i do seek.

I guess life moves on, things you outgrow.
It hurts but shhhh, because its what you show!

Details | Moving On Poem |

Twenty Years From Now

I have got no doubt twenty years from now
I’ll transform myself into fragrant air
To write rhymes as you’ll come under the bough
So fondly I’ll raise those rings in your hair

The poor guy busking in the street corner
A cloth sheet spread before him on the road
His mother is sick and he a loner
I will put him into a dancing mode

The girl planting the saplings of green rice
Is pleased as she feels me in monsoon rain
Dreams of bumper crop in her waiting eyes
At harvest she waves at me in the train

I’ll be in the moonlight on your dream grace
As you sleep out after the day’s struggle
Will move my moon-palm on your eyes and face
Have a great sleep to face the next hustle

The five basics of my body and mind
Will blend with earth water air fire and sky
I’ll look back at the orange left behind
As in your eyes the cloud of time goes by

Would there be a chance to seek any gift
Please send me back to Bengal I’d say swift
_______________________________________________________________
April 29, 2017
Note: Though I wrote it for the contest of the same name as in the title, but to my dismay I found the sponsor requires a sonnet. When I attempted to delete two stanzas to meet the need, I felt the integrity of the poem was getting compromised. Hence, for no contest.