Monday, March 08, 2021

Scarred

 


i am a seashell
one among many
i have cuts in my shell
wounds in my skin 
because
i was tossed
to and fro
by the waves
and the winds
of life's oceans
calloused by 
the rough sands
i am complicated
mysterious 
yet
fascinating
inevitable change
comes
but the marks
remain
my uniqueness
stands out
i am
aesthetically
scarred



Note: A repost from my 2012 posts. This is how I see myself now.


Thursday, March 04, 2021

Pain

 



Indescribable,

my lifeless heart’s agony

buried deep in pain

 

Unspeakable wrath

of your sharp-edged tongue

stabbed me to death.

 

Hatred overwhelmed

your jealous narcissistic

self and scattered plumes.

 

My soul’s rain of tears

drowned myself. I have lost you.

I only have me.


    

Written for: Poets and Storytellers United

Writers' Pantry #59: Love and Loss


Living a Smile


talk less and smile more

it will make your mind at work

heal you from the hurts


to die is easy

but you have to live harder

make time for yourself


talk less and smile more

from within, it's a call to

live beautifully

Written for: Poets and Storytellers United

Weekly Scribblings #59: Talk less. Smile more.


Thursday, October 10, 2019

Daily Hope




Day starts at four dawn
With closed eyes to the Great One
Tranquility reigns

My heart in whispers
Gratitude is my first breath
For life I behold

Mindfulness I seek
No matter what the day brings
Be kind, true and strong

I can never tell
In a quandary I am
Will this be my last?


Poets United Midweek Motif - Everyday Living

Friday, May 17, 2019





the last picnic...


the family’s picnic on Easter weekend
painted the ocean blue
the sand, smoothly grayish and ashen
food, fun, laughter, we all had
stories were told
hopefully joyful to cover the strains

but life is uncertain
in one snap, everything breaks
and falls apart
even hearts mourned and wailed

will there be another reason to picnic?





Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Nightmare

                                          



                                      photo: Daniel Murtagh



a dreadful cold night
scarred body and spirit
ruthless souls ripped me

i can hear my mom
in the stillness, heaven cries
her shattered heart weeps

Monday, October 19, 2015

mystery



No. 8, Black Flowing, Jackson Pollock


turmoil in my heart
enslaves my hand to depict
mystery in black






Monday, October 27, 2014

Cold Morning



socks fit snugly mom
with toast and hot chocolate
your hug completes me

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