Restrained to a mere particle,
a fleck in my eyes.
One blink, and you’re gone…
Doing the final preparations for my local Christmas Fair tomorrow. Into 2018 I will be sponsored for creating crafts for events and private orders. Looking forward to tomorrow! Here’s hoping we raise a lot of money. Thank you to all business and generous people who have donated so far.
Above is just a fraction of the things I have been working on for this fair, and moving forward, to raise money for Cancer sufferers everywhere. Please support me.
Please be generous, work your magic for cancer sufferers everywhere…
And I hope you all have a very happy holiday!
Should I toy with small flowers the way I do spiders when I spend
hours pulling them from them their dreams until they kick
with their needy legs, enmeshed with petals,
and throw them into nature’s chasm?
Should I play with your daydreams
as I do and make them seem real for hours and hours,
spoiled only by reminiscent rays of cloud etched on my
brow in furrows?
Should I let you down gently
or keep you dangling forever, here on this viscose thread,
stuck in its glue and itching, like me, to be fed, before
I wind you up further into my web?
Should I love you honestly
but tread cautiously among caustic chances?
If satire has a cost per glance and blood is wit and adrenaline,
is this a toxic romance?
Should I remove you?
And extricate us from fate’s tawdry demeanours where we both ebb
free of perplexities. This hindrance and these entanglements
of a needy spider’s web are not for us.
Restrained to a mere particle
A fleck in my eyes
I blink and you’re gone
A Naani is one of India’s most popular Telugu poems. Naani means an expression of one and all. It consists of 4 lines, the total lines consists of 20 to 25 syllables. Check out a collection of them by Elaine at watermelonseeds.
A ruddy gown of
flutter – strewn once across bare
boards – creaking ceased
a long time ago
dimly lit room.
Now, tired paint peels
where love faded and old passions were burned
with the last of the blackest coal.
A Quadrille is a 44 word poem.
Picture found at The Spruce
When light bulbs shatter
Don’t be afraid of the dark
Pick up the pieces
To those who weep when
for those whose days
are stolen by black dogs –
and even to those who keep
sanity all to themselves,
or those who sleep
half jacked up to avoid Mondays
all jazzed up on life, hot on the tail
of a trail behind blazing Mars.
To those who Sunday is the day to bleed,
and for those who wept when Jesus slept,
but sigh for those of us who weep
for humanity on its path to oblivion,
but have nowhere left to go,
I raise my glass.