internalised----3WW and Totally Optional Prompts!

Initial, Knock, Weather

For totally optional prompts, I offer this as I think it goes with the prompt well. I interpret it this way!

taking the photographs out
appraising those with wonder.
initial euphoria receding like hairline
I sort through, throwing a few
with a knock onto memory.

ever changing weather mirrors
but absorbs too, darkest turns to light.
pictures come and go, enjoyed yet
ignored. ones that camera never captured.
internal experiments of the soul.

leafy tale----Writers Island

This time the prompt is to write about renewal.

I have stayed too long up here
swaying softly in sweet scented zephyr.
sensing the movement of sap
in my lucid veins
my alteration to crimson, ginger and russet,
the vibrant emerald of my youth waning.

I enjoyed the freedom of sway,
suppleness for a time,
the buzzing of bees,
the smell of my blossom cousins,
wonder of fruit laden trees
bent double with the bounty.

however, one has to move on.
sap has frozen in my veins
thoughts of softly drifting down
and touching the earth below me -
only seen till date but never felt -
brings peace to my mind.

letting loose my grip
I slowly make myself glide to lie
silently with my older sisters,
feeling the tender prod of worms
I toss back into earth, dreaming again
of budding blossoms in the spring.

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night nods--unpoem---Monday Poetry Train

black vines intertwine
in countryside.
myriads of flower
bloom on muddy soil.
pitch dark, the night nods.

itching mosquito bite
enhances a yawn-
as wide as darkness,
reflecting ennui.

"moths still dance"

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Sorry----Sunday Scribblings

Sunday Scribbling is a great blogging community. It is more a family where we post each week to a prompt. When I checked in for this Sunday, there was this post saying...sorry…no scribble this week! Shocking to say the least! A Sunday without scribbling? How is that possible?

I again went there wanting to go around those people who had commented and found that sorry has been made into a prompt. That pleased me no end and from the comments there, most of the bloggers too!

Now what does one write about sorry? It is such an abused word. So much used that it has lost its meaning altogether. We say sorry for no apparent reason, meaninglessly. We do a wrong, we say sorry. Someone else that a wrong, we feel sorry. Sorry does have a whole gamut running through it. We do not give it much thought before saying it. Lip service, as it can be called.

We need to ponder over it. What does it mean? When we say it, do we mean it? Should we say it even when we know it is not our fault? Sometimes we say it for others. To cover for them. Do we need to do that?

Sorry should never be taken lightly, neither by the person who says it nor the person who receives it. It has to come from the heart. It has to touch the heart. Only then sorry can really mean something other than a mere empty word…

Fallen angels!-----[Fiction] Friday

[Fiction] Friday Challenge for October, 5 2007:
Use the first line of a nursery rhyme (your choice) to start your own story.

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water

born on the same day
inseparable since birth
both always had a say

about what went on in
the other’s life. toddler
days were not to be seen

for sometime now, even
childhood was left behind
adolescent feelings driven

to core. hormones bubbled
jumping forth. unfamiliar it
was too. step that stumbled

was no surprise. climbing hill
was but only an excuse. dread
after the deed added to thrill

to escape from parent's fury
they fell and faked self-injury!

skip it!--------3WW

All you poetry lovers do read my review of A Poetry Handbook by Mary Oliver!

You can safely skip this poem or read it at your peril. Writer's block is not conducive for good poetry. What the hell even Keats wrote trash at times!!

Feather
Misplaced
Useles

feather rhymes with leather
thinking of writing a poem
i am at the end of my tether

my judgment seem misplaced
trying to collect the words
i got those even more displaced

itching fingers type in trash
writer’s block makes me useless
maybe I should start afresh

chain of being---Writers Island

asks us to write about "The Journey"

ubiquitous pip of that apple
shaken to the core
righted itself

tiny in size
ever so gifted
it knew what was expected of it

voyage from earth to fruition
had been arduous
so very tiring

no way it had
deterred him from
his pre-ordained chain of being

it awaited yet again for its turn
to be germinated into
excursion of life

holing into soil
half woken up dreams
culminated into a tree of stature

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