I love when moonbeams wash the resplendent sun cackling cygnets whisper to me the sonnets of love teacups of emotions wash my bruised heart flirty dandelions whistle in the soft summer breeze valour places a scar in my memory dreams waltz in mire of metaphors sunflowers pirouette in zephyrous rain azure dances to carefree melodies rustle of leaves uplifts the forest river sings joyfully to the banks letters stroll in the gleam of sunrises peace tranquilises palette of thoughts tides of hope rest on blissful shores The life we live becomes the ink
UP-RISING by Carolyn Glackin From grand Valhalla Watch me rise On blood stained wings In war torn skies See my glory Fanned by flames From fires you lit To burn my name Caustic words Assailed my soul Complete demise Your vile goal How well you tried How well you failed For as you see My soul prevailed! In triumph I live on today As you look on In shocked dismay Your sad attempts Can't bring me down In your own karma You soon shall drown! So try your best With might, in vain Inflict me with Such loathsome pain A soldier's born This day, 'tis true My warrior soul You never knew For though the phoenix Often dies Forevermore, we too shall rise! Copyright Carolyn Glackin 7/25/2020
*Art found on Pinterest. Artist's name not mentioned, but I fully credit the image to the rightful owner.
Sometimes,.. I wonder - "how people change overnight, like moon from full to crescent, Like sky from blue, serene and cool like remote sea to tangerine as if edicting storm., Or like weather from hot like ember to cold and frosty like December.., This isn't true,.. If you could see Nobody changes overnight Sometimes,.. They are pushed to the edge again and again They fall,..some lose their innocence only few manage to retain Some wants someone to explain... Why always them?!!!.. They don't find anyone to pull them away When they realize it was only them When they don't find anyone who could listen They no longer blame No one They lope and ramble with the wind they sway With same wind That extinguished the light of hope they were carrying Tune of clock become mere a ballad before falling down once again Lost authenticity Lost hope Lost faith Blinded by the darkness,... they close their eyes when a ray strikes the window pane of their dark edifice Deafend by the loud screaming silence They cover their ear When they hear "This world is just,.. Fair,...and kind...!!!" For them.., this world is just a blue crystal ball It doesn't breaks itself But from their body it discerps the soul They ramble like a vagabond Along the way they lose it all Peace Hope/ soul Trust Now where are these lost souls?!!! They have turned into wallflower You can find them in my lugubrious poem now they don't bloom like amaranthine
Perhaps I know it's not too late to learn how to have pity on myself. It's not too late to know for what I should have self-pity. But I have to learn before it's too late. Before there's no self left. I'm somehow happy that I know myself enough to know when my hand find its way out of the window to just caress the air, it's a sign I'll write something. It's a sign I'll have to dig my mind out again. The reflection looks too elegant for the eyes that are afraid and much tired of watching the same hands shiver. Who knew smiling when your sibling says ‘you aren't the same anymore. What's wrong?’ is so difficult. Saying back ‘ I'm just this way. Is it too bad?' is somehow easier when you know things are temporary and so are these questions and answers disguised as questions. Perhaps this mind knows that overdose of decoction isn't bad. But it knew it won't make me high too right? I wonder then why it didn't stop me from taking in too much of it. It was the bitterness of my blank thoughts this time that lasted longer than the disgust of decoction on my tongue.
Feeling too deep and just ignoring that if this time if you're left there alone to measure the depth, you'll get lost in the darkness in a way that ways to see light will feel invisible, is just one of the best ways you can ruin yourself.
PS: If I say I've thought all the postscripts till date before writing the main prose, will you believe me?