Middle mountain way
Journeys back through the ages
Lined with travellers
Day 100/365 – Morgan’s #DailyHaikuChallenge. Join in and link back to her blog
Middle mountain way
Journeys back through the ages
Lined with travellers
Day 100/365 – Morgan’s #DailyHaikuChallenge. Join in and link back to her blog
Wishing you all a very happy New Year and safe celebrations!
No signs can foretell
As we travel this journey
Moving with the year
Day 74 /365 – Morgan’s #DailyHaikuChallenge. Join in and link back to her blog
Why are we going so fast? It’s like sitting
on one of those new sewing machines –
Trains rush by wishing they could fly
because blackbirds don’t come here anymore.
What are those black marks then?
They’re all smeared now – were they crying?
Is it the sky again, pretending tears like rain;
just like you did, or was that your dad?
We’ll soon be past those freckles up there. I told you,
there are no more blackbirds to peck at your soul,
no more ants because we only buy fresh –
those are good grains in that bread – eat up.
stains and sewing machines; they never went this fast.
I wish she could keep up with the window as we ride,
but time and oily marks appear inside of lopsided lenses,
inside of those the countryside flits by at 125 mph
and her tired grey eyes can’t take it; her silver
hair drops as she watches crop circles in the carpet.
I eat my sandwiches on scratched Formica, steadying
my coffee’s plastic rumble on the surface while inside
my heart breaks watching the sweeping insensitivity of old age.
Shah Jahan built the Taj Mahal as a tomb for his favourite wife, Mumtaz. He longed to preserve the love that he had for her. With its creation, love, magnificence and memory has been preserved. I had the privilege of falling on the stairs inside that lead to the tombs proper on a visit – a treat from my dad while we were visiting family in India. I was not allowed to continue due to the risks – enabled by the shoe protectors that tourists have to wear. So I mooched outside taking photographs…these are not those, however.
Shah Jahan
She wilted and he slept for one year,
fading like the blush of twilight –
riches do not protect the human flesh
or soul –
death permeates even our innermost
love.
In dark dreams, grief struck aching bones
and tortured sinews,
surrounds of a heart heavy from drought,
until he was woken with a vision to transform
her death into beauty – as she was in life
so she shall be in slumber.
‘No more tear drops on cheeks
that pain compared to her touch,
but across the naked sky,
to prolong this innermost sorrow,
just the last one –
a gesture to sear my longing
in this lonely, mournful place –
the last cry will be affixed
vapour
laden with jewels and precious
splendour
to pierce the clouds
saddened and heaving constantly
as sorrow.
On the south bank, ribbons
of the Yamuna river will stare
at a true reflection of beauty
created from your passing –
it will remain a last kiss on the cheek
from my final tear as it rolls
through Agra.
Your splendour will ignite
a restful place, and make magical
this white opal – as opaque,
as my grief
and as magnificent
as you my love, Mumtaz –
soon we will sleep until we can
no longer, and we leave together
through the ghosted marble
of the Iwan.’
About my life and everything else 🙌 Inst:@nihilnove
by *paige six
... from a silent space
The Broken Cannot Rise Alone...
A Repository of Discarded Poetry, Story Prompts, and Memories
Barcelona's Multiverse | Art | Culture | Science
Pain goes in, love comes out.
poetry w/teeth
Just wondering at the miracle called LIFE .
Author River Dixon
poetry by Robert Ford
Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement. Nothing can be done without hope and confidence.
In the end all you want is a pen that writes well and a life that you've lived well.
A potpourri of emotions
Poetry and words
A collection of beautiful things and thoughts
Exploring writing and the creative randomness of life. Snapshots of moments.
Poetry
"Not all who wander are lost..."
A Discarded Plant
I am more than breath & bones.
My poetry is my religion.
Poetry, short essays and other work showcased by a Scientist, Philosopher, and Adventurer. Posts on Monday and First Fridays.
Dark Writing and Strange Inspirations
The Little Poetastry; The little stories
Exploring Rhymes, Reasons, and Nuances of Our World
Smidgens
We're all on a road to somewhere.
Provocative poetry and musings on life
Tales from the mouth of a wolf
Your Brain is a Radio that Does What its Told
Encouraging animal advocacy and compassion
A wildlife filmmaker in Africa
big book guy
Just another WordPress.com site
At Least Trying Too
Poetry by Mich
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
MarkovichUniverse AT gmail DOT com