The truth about children,
They’re tiny sparks that glow in the dark,
They're embers that warm the space,
They're treasures on an abandoned island,
They're vessels of a worthy cause,
They add colours to a gloomy day,
Their silly acts cast a shadow on a bright day,
Reassembling my childhood,
Fixing the lost pieces,
Straightening the contoured lines,
Bringing back childhood memories,
Admonishing, instructing and teaching,
Letting them know,
First, friends are sculptors and masons,
Secondly, they’re painters and carpenters,
What view of you do they have in mind?
What substance do they
intend to make of you?
These speak volumes of their craftsmanship,
These tell of the motive behind their labours.
April 20, 2022.
Categories:
reassembling, child, childhood, for teens,
Form: Free verse
On goes a beep , the emotions start to leak ,
suddenly they just sneek
I am not a sensitivity geek
I cant define the moment , just feel the kick ...
Everytime a little bit more daunting ...
The feelings are so rich
Hectares of overwhelming hitch
Reactive Glitch
Desire of the stitch
of two realities
Where within a flick I can divert
to the island of reassembling breeze .
To seize the incoming sneeze
of overthinking fear trees .....
Even Love goes on a leap
Yet afraid to let go of it too deep ...
All afraid to feel the feelings ,
As they overlap ...
Yet so Aware , In these dealings ....
sometimes feels like a trap
All matters is the way the feelings lie
In many ways we can always fly
Categories:
reassembling, anxiety, fear, feelings, how
Form: Free verse
Sallowing leaves tarnish bough's regal crown
Swirling breeze pageant more doth confound
Dessicated lobes dressed in jaundiced gown
Crumpled folds in death's clutches bound
Cool tidal waves the exposed surfaces pound
Frothy glaze doth weathered follicles brown
Chilling currents surge; nutrient-rich channels drown
Shunted leaves from lofty crest tumble down
Shorn pinnates reassembling, lowly base doth crown
Richly dressing each, desolate, frozen mound
In layered splendor blessing the smitten ground
Categories:
reassembling, seasons
Form: Rhyme
Where live all the trees now
And the clouds,
And the water and the grass?
Where and what divides the calm
From the quake, the weariness
From the ache,
Or the civil from the crass?
What lives or breathes
In the spaces of our hearts,
We dare not seek completely
For to justify the search
We must break apart our walls
Then reassemble somehow neatly
Categories:
reassembling, recovery from...
Form: I do not know?