My father is breathing his last. He is the only support I’ve ever had in life. I lost my mother in infancy, and did not have any siblings. A relationship was initiated, but ended badly due to my insecurities. The girl found me too possessive and clinging. I hold his hand, as his breathing gets …
The theme for the week given by Colleen Chesebro is a haiku written by Sue Vincent clouds cover the moon, beyond dawn's pale horizon sun rises unseen ©2020 Sue Vincent My take perceptions based onrange of visibility-our simplified worldshelp us wax poetic onunknown complex universe https://wordcraftpoetry.com/2020/11/24/2020-weekly-tanka-tuesday-poetry-challenge-no-204-themeprompt/
Those twinkling eyes behind the branches looked at me in curiosity, but stepped behind as I advance with my phone camera. Shyness or fear? It is lack of trust, as the mother snarls at me for coming too close. I move away to respect their privacy, but keep watching the babies on natural swings. Baby …
Time’s Pause ….. by Aishwarya
Was it a random explosion,
Or plan conceptualised by group of head hunters?
That led to birth of this universe,
Who orchestrated rising of Sun,
And twinkling of stars?
What is day?
What is night?
Why are some places hot,
Yet others freezing cold?
All of us share the same space,
Not similar situations,
Thoughts too many,
Answers hardly any,
*And Sun decides to go a holiday*,
To unbox these paradoxes?
* And Sun decides to go a holiday* :- I had read a couple of days back, that a town in Alaska, by the name Utqiaġvik, witnessed its last sunset of the year 2020 on November 20. And, they will be next seeing the Sun only in 2021, to be precise on January 22, 2021. This led me to thinking, all of us share space, not similar situations. Attaching a link to the news clip here.
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inflammable pilesready to burn, emit lightattract moths -they knowwhat it takes to sacrifice,partner in fruitless journeys-who knows what will it be worth? https://lifeafter50forwomen.com/2020/11/23/what-do-you-see-57-november-23-2020/
“I’m sick of magic mirrors”, my teenage daughter protested, “I don’t like seeing grotesque forms of myself.” “These are not those deforming, illusionary mirrors. You will be transformed forever.” His voice appeared to come from another plane. “What? You mean deformities will be permanent?” “There are no deformities here. The tormentor and tormented look alike, …
“The haziness of a disappearing platform and culture is evident in this artwork. The artist was planning to retire.” “Does an artist ever retire? There are curators who work at preserving art.” “Do you won a museum or art gallery?” “I build castles out of the sands of collective experience. The story of this artist …
“A writer’s world” ….. by Jude
As a writer, you pile perspective upon perspective,
And perch on the lofty precipice of dangerous empathy,
And random questions that test your sense of identity,
Like a headless hasaean hunting thoughts, you decapitate the minds of good and evil alike.
You are insane, yet also the therapist.
You come from a tribe of headhunters; so you will never need a shrink.
Craft me a tale,
That I may see who I am.
Craft me a story;
Of who I can be.
Reena asked us to use any of the three phrases below to inspire something we write. I liked them all so I used all three;
- “His thought process was on so many levels that he gave himself a phobia of heights.”
- “Random words in front of other random words create a random sentence.“
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Don’t miss this poem. “stop the words’ by VJ Knutson
These thought processes…
I am inside out, shredded…
on so many levels
out of sync…
hear my own words
nothing but hot air
making me so dizzy
that I’m becoming afraid
I remember somewhere
between gulps of helium
and the hammering
in my head…
Platitudes have no place
in this moment
in the inside out
emotionally raw now
So, I’ll quit the words
breathe until I find ground
(Inspired by the prompt of Reena’s Exploration challenge which can found here. Image my own.)