Strands of hairs on floors galore,
Papers and rags strewn over the tables,
Clothes on the sofa seats,hung on the chairs,
Cobwebs and spiders on the ceilings and walls,
Moldy food and vegetables in the kitchen,
Odors emanating from the washroom,
Cars dusty,air inside impure,
Courtyards and surroundings unkempt for days,
Garbage from the house dumped at the roadside,
Thrown on the drains, rills and rivers,
Perfumes and beauty products everywhere
The strain on the strands of fate
Unseen forces pull
Trying to tug us their way
I anchor myself
I bend not to others will
In tiny hands, a glowing screen
A world of knowledge, or so it seems
But with each swipe, a deeper hole
And a growing disconnect, we can't control
Kids so young, with heads bowed low
Trapped in a world that we don't know
The light of life, so dimly lit
As screens become the new babysit
The lure of games, the children fall
An addiction that can take it all
Their minds consumed, their focus lost
As time passes by, at a staggering cost
The world is real, and so much more
Than screens and pixels, we can't ignore
The future waits, with open arms
But are we raising children with self-harm?
So let's unplug, and take a stand
To guide our children, with gentle hands
And lead them towards a brighter light
With love and learning, and a future bright.
It befalls on me the intensity,
Catapulted with dire immensity,
Within which lives the sensitivity,
Of them emotions built, the lightest.
Then befell on me, the beknownst,
Whistled in hymnes and in absence,
The peculiarities in offsetting balances,
Them unknown like the remnant strands,
And today rejoicing to the kinds of sounds,
Evilly tracked and maximum on commands,
Nursed the grievances forthwith,
Right so denied the chances to doeth,
Fight for agreances to heal and find worth,
Midst the punches on all ends and broken.
The spoken tongue has various strands
that uses them for words to utter
these need to be a breath so calm
for if not I'm left with my stutter
In all my years of life on earth
words have been a constant horror
struggle has always held me down
makes one wish to be better tomorrow
To be given a gift of strands
that are not held so very tight
praying often that they are loose
loose and freed from this fight
Listening to others speak so very free
brings envy into one's heart and mind
but this must not be allowed to be
look up for loose strands duly lined
captivating scene
a fly on the way to lunch
silver strands of silk
August 22, 2020
Tania Kitchin, Haiku (Color w/ Alliteration) Contest
strands of pearls
falling gracefully
where they may
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Just Strands of Straw
I look into the mirror,
my hair has dropped to the sink.
It is a trail of tears,
years of taking care of split ends,
fluffing and drying,
tying it up,
leaving it down…
now, just gone.
My crown of glory
it is…
gone.
Maybe
and
more than likely,
forever…
Yet the Glory of My Lord,
is ever upon me,
shinning brightly,
in all
of…
His Light!
Yes, my hair has fallen,
to the floor.
I have not.
I am loved
and
cherished.
He sees,
“me”.
Flanked by violets and similes
in a drafty den she pens
away fleet hours, pensive, concocting
exotic brews of rarest essence
and scents, honey-tipped phrases
in secret rhythmical chants
known only to denizens of her
innermost sanctum, where she,
perches, chin in hand, arranging
delicate strands of sound, eliciting
murmurs from those gathered, who lionize her
though she remains as the dust underfoot
Drawn steadfastly upon my face
neatness and precision;
unturned yet quaintly ageless grace
as I breathe the new dawn.
Excerpt from my poem, Ageless Grace 8/23/2019
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/ageless_grace_cm_1175424
9/15/2019
Arbitrium Divisa 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Gregory R Barden
I only tell of sunny hours...
Where my queen reins from the sky
With her twinkling face and shining crown
Touching me with her magical strands
Throwing me in a new experience
She calls me out on light frequency
Boosting me with warmth delicacies
She takes off pain that’s hanging over me
hunts my sorrow; a hinge for me
I live abundantly, no bonds, no misery
She blinds evil eyes and sets me free
burns their hearts with jealousy
and unveils marvels for me …
My gift from the sky for eternity
The trickling teardrops fall like rain
dousing love's spark; and as you cry,
passion's flame begins to die.
For all your pleadings were in vain:
and every lie summons a tear,
that drowns your hurting heart in fear.
Treating you with scorn and disdain,
leaves little room for love to bloom:
despite the babe within your womb.
He fabricates lies to explain,
although you've heard them all before;
and don't believe him anymore.
He doesn't love you; that much is plain:
and it's getting harder to cope,
clinging to dwindling strands of hope.
And yet, you'll take him back again,
and try to cope the best you can;
for you're afraid to lose your man.
The trickling teardrops fall like rain,
for all of your pleadings were in vain.
Treating you with scorn and disdain,
he fabricates lies to explain.
He doesn't love you; that much is plain.
And yet, you'll take him back again.
A Spider’s Web
a true engineering marvel
a mastery of tensile strength
flexible, firm, unrelenting
icky, sticky, viscous
this web most certainly is
all the better to trap prey
and cocoon them for later
for a tasty snack or dinner
its occupant . . .
a predator supreme
a master acrobat
in the vaunted
historical tradition of
Darwin's bark spider
(Caerostris darwini)
a true web mastery
to behold
the web’s silken-strands
give the spider
the wherewithal
to navigate its web
quite freely
swinging
to and fro
hither and thither
whilst
watching and waiting
for the moment
to seize and kill
its prey
a spider’s web
a true engineering marvel
a mastery of tensile strength
flexible, firm, unrelenting
icky, sticky, viscous
precision perfect
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
August 19, 2018 (Imagism)
Brexit Sonnet No.16
‘Diverse Woven Strands’
Our embroidered story, with boundaries crissed and crossed,
With boats and men ‘o horse in serried rows.
With comets, relics, hawks and battles lost
And headless, limbless men this fabric shows.
Some say it t’was the Kentish Saxon hand
Whose needle rudely stabbed the linen cloth.
Others swear title stems from William’s land;
But time flows by and quenches warlike wroth.
So histories fused, and diverse woven strands
Are spun together, strong and future proof.
A Nation built on history’s shifting sands,
Woven under Europe’s very roof.
Treat it well this cloth of ours to share,
Break not the warp or weft on Brexit’s snare.
©Keith Murphy
Mirror mirror on the wall
I went to the beauty salon today
Silver strands ~ gone
Long dark wavy hair ~ beautiful
Bet you're jealous ~ ha
Twirling away and singing "because I'm happy" by Pharrell Williams
Six weeks later...
Mirror mirror on the wall
If you keep showing those silver strands
I'm going to give you some cracks
Bet you won't like that
Walking away mumbling how people are talking to her but their eyes upon her head
Days later...
Mirror mirror on the wall
What is the meaning of this
Each day I'm seeing more glitters spreading
I'm plucking them out but they seems to keep surfacing
"Sighing" knowing full well
She'll never beat this medallic battle
Weeks later...
Mirror mirror on the wall
I've come to realize these silver strands are the enhancing highlights of my life
For every silver strand had its own enchanting story
So color me away
They say she's too young to go silvering
Maybe they're right
Today...
Mirror mirror on the wall
Keep calm
And go authentically silverlicious
My hair
My beauty
My silver strands
Smile
Akkina R Downing
1-5-18
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