Cup

Cup slowly fills overflows with will unable to tame emotion cracks. Cup slowly repairs gold filling cracks able to sustain emotion useful. An elfchen written for W3 Prompt #54: Wea’ve Written Weekly. Congratulations to Sadje ma’am for being featured as the Poet of the Week. 🥰 I enjoyed writing this poetic form, it required choosing words

Phases

In an open field the sleepy child saw a secret concealed it takes two men to change the moon right out of a sweven. Round-eyed wonder gapes at the spill field glowing under ladder past the skyline huffing puffing the orb dreamy blue clouds line. The child rubs his eyes at the sight of another

Aimless

The asphalt is awash with dwindling summer rain. Telephone lines sway against the dusky sky, people shuffle through the streets wending their way to tea stalls and eateries. Lively banter filters through the warm stifling interiors smelling of fried snacks and milky cardamom tea. The backstreet is lined with bikes. Under the canopy of a dripping

Mirror Mirror

The divide between truth and illusion mirror mirror what is it I see? A cold finger against the glass is this the true me? Or am I illusory? Sharp contrasts blade-like black against piercing white mirror mirror. What is it I see? the divide between truth and illusion what is reality? Written for Sadje’s What

Moss Girl’s Dirge

The moss girl lying on ground slime-green; gunky is her mind a flower princess crowned? never her fate resigned. The peony prince won’t look at you her mind whispers-you are dust the restless forest knew he roams, bereaved soul lost. There she lies rotting; over wretched love roses do not bloom on moss; elegant and

Sunset Serenity

Sunset serenity sillhouetted leaves tremble in the wind hushes the sky to sleep orange halo dims the day fades dusky grey shimmers no chirps on the roof a moment of peace distilled serene a pause before life begins again the sun is going down serenely like my mind no longer do the thoughts rush untamed

Everlasting

The frangipani lies against the grass waxy cream petals sun-burst center intoxicating scent permeates the stillness drawing my attention each floret whispers that secret memory when I first picked it in a quiet spot away from the commotion of playing I inhaled its fragrance soothingly grounding from that moment on the frangipani and I turned

Tailor-Bird

A tailor-bird in the leaves fawn feathers, lemon wings needle-beaked it weaves on the eaves it sings. Industrious bird, to and fro dawn to afternoon you toil perforating leaves for tomorrow cup-shaped nest untouched by soil. How I admire you, tailor your stitches leave no room just how the sun grows paler when the marigold

Mapped

Dying embers the muse ignites itself with a flint here’s your path I have it mapped into unknown territory will you spring? Labriynth torch held high a treasure hunt into an alternate reality across the gateways illustrious muse guide the way holding the map. Written for dVerse Quadrille #175 -Mapping Out Our Poems. Thanks for

Labour Day

No one spared her a second glance when she trudged through the tall grass. Gwen undertook this journey in silence. Oft-mended sandals pulled over shabby socks. A scarf wrapped about her head. The old woman huffed balancing her burden on a broken branch crossed over her slouched back. Two plastic buckets sloshed with precious water gathered

Finifugal

She hung onto the edge of a precipice on a stone slab. The sea roiled below crashing onto oddly shaped boulders. Her heart drummed heavily within her chest like a thundercloud. She held on with all her might, dangling too close to the sea that reached out with hungry fingers. “Give me your hand!” The stranger’s voice cracked