POETRY OF SHAPES
haunting
enigmatic
in
poetry
of the everyday
so approachable,
yet mysterious
encounters
with the
metaphysical
a silent reckoning
endlessly
rearranged
in solitude
of the simultaneous
of
banality the
moment
of the
featureless
space
underlined
in the
significant
of
a spiritual
consciousness
enigma
is still life
passion as
beyond the calm
looks organic
& envisions
an intimation
self
of
sympathised
in the
neoreal
love
in
humanity
Most of the time, I stay true to what I believe in. While the other times I sympathised.
My mother in law has died and was buried today.
Although apart from her son this past ten years,
she and I continued to maintain our loving relationship.
Never judgmental and kind to her core,
we shared many happy outings in her final years.
Christmas concerts, cinema dates and butterfly gardens.
Her son and I had not spoken since our acrimonious split.
But this summer, she talked of my joining their Xmas table.
I said I would, knowing in my heart she could not last until then.
Sleepless last night, she came to me unknowing, in spirit.
How else can I explain the change in my heart?
Before the service, I sympathised, forgave and asked for forgiveness.
In the presence of our eldest child, he and I embraced once again.
Her love inspiring me from the afterlife to forgive at last.
Renewed in faith for a hopeful future, I am free of past hurts.
Her parting gift to me.
23/10/2019
For contest
Writing Challenge 2, November - A Poem Meaningful
Sponsor, Dear Heart - Wisshkobi Ode
Some time ago, when you were small
I tried to show you how to be
But you looked at me and smiled and said
‘I just want to be like me’.
What judicious words, from one so small
It stilled me to my core
And from then on there you were just you
And I questioned it no more.
When others laughed and others stared
You walked off from the crowd
You sympathised, you loved and cared
You spoke your thoughts out loud.
When people mocked, when people eyed
You held your head up high
When they told you to be different
You always questioned why.
So if some one asks, a mate perhaps
To change your point of view
You are perfect just the way you are
Please always be like you.
It was a frozen morning as she shivered in her place, yawning.
A bland days early light tried its best to make earth brighter.
The engine of her ageing car hummed tiredly after a cold nights stillness and she
sympathised quietly.
The weathers icy film had fallen like a landslide before her eyes; she came to notice
the things around her.
Just a tiny distance away stood a blackbird and his friend, the robin. They
exchanged songs and gathered food, as together thay ate early morning worms.
It was at this time that she stood motionless and thought as herself being the
blackbird and her unborn child, the robin; united in company, doing things as mother
nature intends.
Yet they are seperate souls, but still a constant reminder of one another.
This, she cherishes as she watches them fly away.