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  • penletting 40w

    tsuki (the moon)

    she burns bright,
    impassioned with
    worldly concerns.
    and in her passing,

    she has seen
    vivid shades
    of nature's discord, and
    heard recounting
    of dark tales of agreement;
    she has felt the world shifting,
    ever westward
    into the day's embrace.

    she walks;
    she touches
    every naked face,
    leaving cold blemishes,
    bearing witness to
    the deeds of the night.
    and as the day
    dawns upon the world,

    she walks through
    the white tower,
    gate to the yonder -
    as her silver robe sways
    in the night's quietus,
    her radiance weeping through
    the archways of the tower gates,

    she fades
    into the horizon,
    where the world's blue is
    sundered
    into the endlessly deep oceans
    and
    the limitlessly vast skies!

    #npm15 #poetrymonth #napowrimo #moon #tsuki #she #poetry #freestyle

    @mirakee @writersnetwork

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    tsuki

    she burns bright,
    impassioned with
    worldly concerns.
    and in her passing,

    she has seen
    vivid shades
    of nature's discord, and
    heard recounting
    of dark tales of agreement;
    she has felt the world shifting,
    ever westward
    into the day's embrace.

    she walks;
    she touches
    every naked face,
    leaving cold blemishes,
    bearing witness to
    the deeds of the night.
    and as the day
    dawns upon the world,

    she walks through
    the white tower,
    gate to the yonder -
    as her silver robe sways
    in the night's quietus,
    her radiance weeping through
    the archways of the tower gates,

    she fades
    into the horizon,
    where the world's blue is
    sundered
    into the endlessly deep oceans
    and
    the limitlessly vast skies!

    ©penletting

  • penletting 48w

    series: mind
    part 3: rust

    words unsaid -
    lumps of raked up thoughts
    choked forever
    in his numb throat
    words
    cooked up,
    for fine occasions,
    or for somber days;
    words
    never uttered
    for want of admiration;
    for the fear of admonition;
    words
    stacked safely
    in his head
    spilling into his
    now quiet larynx;
    wanting to get out -
    without the Maker's will!
    words,
    gathering dust,
    cobwebs and husk -
    words
    laid to rest
    to rust
    in his bloody throat;
    put to waste
    to wither
    far away beyond
    his forgotten existence.

    #poem #poetry #freestyle #poetryseries #mind #wring #musings #thoughts #existence #words #wordporn #questions #answers #self #rust #thoughts #lost #forgotten #lost #memories

    @writersnetwork @mirakee

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    rust

    words unsaid -
    lumps of raked up thoughts
    choked forever
    in his numb throat
    words
    cooked up,
    for fine occasions,
    or for somber days;
    words
    never uttered
    for want of admiration;
    for the fear of admonition;

    words
    stacked safely
    in his head
    spilling into his
    now quiet larynx;
    wanting to get out -
    without the Maker's will!
    words,
    gathering dust,
    cobwebs and husk -

    words
    laid to rest
    to rust
    in his bloody throat;
    put to waste
    to wither
    far away beyond
    his forgotten existence.

    ©penletting

  • penletting 49w

    series: mind
    part 2: tear

    the whelp howled -
    into night's nascent drips;
    insonant
    lunar craters trembled,
    as he climbed
    the windy stairs
    in blind joy!
    his tongue
    whipped beads of his being
    into the night's cold!
    denizens of the sky
    pranced around,

    cackling and cooing -
    calling him out,
    to journey long and hard!
    euphoria
    consumed his soul - as
    his neck laid torn
    in his predator's jaws;
    and in
    moon's witness,
    joy tore his heart apart -
    as he scaled
    the ascendant's pass!

    #poem #poetry #freestyle #poetryseries #mind #wring #musings #thoughts #existence #words #wordporn #questions #answers #self #tear #madness #euphoria #deranged

    @mirakee @writersnetwork

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    tear

    the whelp howled -
    into night's nascent drips;
    insonant
    lunar craters trembled,
    as he climbed
    the windy stairs
    in blind joy!
    his tongue
    whipped beads of his being
    into the night's cold!
    denizens of the sky
    pranced around,

    cackling and cooing -
    calling him out,
    to journey long and hard!
    euphoria
    consumed his soul - as
    his neck laid torn
    in his predator's jaws;
    and in
    moon's witness,
    joy tore his heart apart -
    as he scaled
    the ascendant's pass!

    ©penletting

  • penletting 58w

    series: mind
    part 1: wring

    he rested his knuckles
    on his chin -
    striking a solemn pose;
    his breath
    dampening the ridges
    of his worn bones
    through the passage of night;
    he stared into
    the tiny corner -
    where the walls of existence meet;
    hardened over years with
    seeping water,
    and his quest for answers;
    his stomach rumbling with doubts -
    doubts of the past,
    doubts of the foreseen, and
    that of the unseen!
    he gasped for breath -
    knowing not that he was
    choking his cells
    in a suffocating shell;
    he blinked,
    when a fly trespassed
    into his contemplation;
    he wiped his eyes,
    his eyes - dry
    of tears
    that were long spent,
    of existence
    that is wrung dry
    by his thoughts,
    fleeting and final!

    .
    .
    .
    .

    #poem #poetry #freestyle #poetryseries #mind #wring #musings #thoughts #lost #existence #doubt #words #wordporn #questions #answers #self

    @writersnetwork @mirakee

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    wring

    he rested his knuckles
    on his chin -
    striking a solemn pose;
    his breath
    dampening the ridges
    of his worn bones
    through the passage of night;
    he stared into
    the tiny corner -
    where the walls of existence meet;
    hardened over years with
    seeping water,
    and his quest for answers;
    his stomach rumbling with doubts -
    doubts of the past,
    doubts of the foreseen, and
    that of the unseen!
    he gasped for breath -
    knowing not that he was
    choking his cells
    in a suffocating shell;
    he blinked,
    when a fly trespassed
    into his contemplation;
    he wiped his eyes,
    his eyes - dry
    of tears
    that were long spent,
    of existence
    that is wrung dry
    by his thoughts,
    fleeting and final!

    ©penletting

  • penletting 60w

    drifted

    he drifted along
    the gentle flow,
    a journey to nowhere -
    where no wind has heard
    his name uttered
    in dreaded silence;

    he drifted through
    waves of the eternal river -
    as he rode swollen
    with guileless water;
    and guilty memories
    of the fleeting rooted tree
    he called home!

    ©penletting

  • penletting 62w

    a shadow
    about her of him, and the her in him - a shadow of an existence.

    @writersnetwork @mirakee

    #shadow #poetry #self #her #him #life #innerlife #existence #closeted

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    a shadow

    a shadow,
    of her frail self -
    she is but a
    slave of an existence,
    brandished
    as a man's honor -
    his property and pride.

    a shadow,
    of her little yearnings;
    measured insignificant,
    against his wants -
    buried
    as her wanton rebellion -
    an unfaithful stride.

    a shadow,
    of his inner her,
    the tears
    on his barbed cheeks;
    the anchor
    grounding his
    pithy wavering mind.

    a shadow,
    of his longing for her,
    the she
    of his silent fantasies;
    displayed
    in his perverse rituals,
    a sacrificial plaything.

    a shadow,
    of her dainty frame,
    she is but a
    symbol of frailty,
    celebrated
    as the bearer of his sons -
    a faithful bride.

    a shadow,
    of her mystic soul -
    she is but the
    headwaters of his poetry
    glorified
    as the prize of love,
    and the mark of ridicule.

    a shadow,
    of her stunted growth,
    she bends and bows
    under his roof, his edict -
    transformed
    into a tale of endurance,
    a farce of her self, of life.

    a shadow,
    of his silent burial -
    the painting
    scarred in fear,
    in frenzied desolation --
    buried
    deep inside his cage of a mind,
    lost lo him, and to the world.

    ©penletting

  • penletting 63w

    I am.

    I am,
    but the buring desires
    in my heart -
    I am,
    but the plurality
    of vulgar secrets,
    hidden under,
    sometimes singular mask.

    I think,
    I am the world -
    for one is many
    and one makes all;
    I am,
    the belief of
    my prejudice,
    the manifest of
    of my ignorance.

    I think,
    I know the world -
    for I've travelled
    far and wide
    only in miles and years;
    but not in minds
    and the directions they veer!

    I am
    but a blatant curse -
    infllicted upon the world and me!
    I am my suffering
    and that of life around;
    I am
    existence -
    the realisation
    of pain and pleasure -
    I am.

    ©penletting

  • penletting 63w

    spring of life

    the world serpent slithers,
    coil round her womb,
    planting the seed of life.

    it tumbles the pail of water,
    held far above ground,
    in Aquarius's mighty hold -
    and life springs!

    life springs,
    splitting open the seed;
    perveates in all directions, leaving
    blemishes of it's nascent innocence.

    innocence in the form
    of the first flower,
    the first blot of rain
    on the freshly formed earth;
    in the form of the first child
    that finds it's way through her womb,
    in the form of itself.

    ©penletting

  • penletting 63w

    inori

    the street is littered with prayers -
    in faded bangles, clinging to trees age old,
    in offerings to milestones, dried and scavenged,
    in eyes closed under the bare sun, head arched,
    the street is full of faces
    of wants, of regrets, of unstrung beads of hope,
    of desperation to fight the ordained fate,
    of determination to ride the wave of chance.
    how the lips steal a moment of shadow to utter,
    how the head frowns, as the mind looks up for answers,
    how the heart pounds, in this fickle gamble -
    the street is littered with prayers.

    ©penletting

  • penletting 64w

    I know not.

    I remember not, if it was a sunrise
    or the last rays of the day before the twilight.
    I know not, where my thoughts were,
    to which side - the wind had swept my hair -
    telling lies along the peaks and valleys
    of my pinna, in its passing haste!
    I knew not, if there was another day
    I'd see the purple fronds glow in
    the borrowed rays - reminding me of
    the nonchalance of the ignorant young.
    I know not, if I will see a day -
    where I will be sunkissed, windswept, rain-dressed,
    as I was that day.
    I care not - to carry the weight of
    the memories of the day, and the wishes for 'morrow
    - my heart weighs as it is
    with flesh and blood, and the flow of time.

    ©penletting