Showing posts with label creative writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label creative writing. Show all posts

Wednesday, 24 July 2013

Tomorrow is rising

Propel your believes
Bury your fury
Erase today and write a new story
There is always tomorrow
And tomorrow is rising 




No don’t give up
Your dreams are tender
Your mind may wander;
Be curious and render
That life is tough and the journey tougher
But don’t lose hope
There is always tomorrow
And tomorrow is rising

Doubts may surface
And you may get nervous
Uncles may growl and aunts may scowl
But don’t lose your pace
There is fun in the chase
Swap each shrill  with a slice of grit
Change your blues with a hint of wit
And don’t forget there is always tomorrow
And tomorrow is rising

No problem so strong that can’t be solved
No issue so strong that can’t be resolved
Factor in your strength and 
shake the indolence
Perch your dreams on a hilltop
and root it to substance
Look out, watch out, for tomorrow
I know tomorrow is rising

Don’t stay still
Have an urge and a will
to wend your own path
Be typical but class
Yesterday is gone,
Today is going
Tomorrow is there
And tomorrow is rising


Written for Toads Get listed!
Image credit Catarino

Thursday, 20 June 2013

My bouffant beauty






To celebrate my love for you, for your heart clutched in mine
I take a vow, each little you in me will remain conserved
I will be a memoir your beauty deserved
I will freeze all the moments
And frame all the happenstance touches

Heirloom of our love,
Your perfection and my Imperfection
The Monologue of our winks
The dance of our grins
Everything that my heart observed, everything that my eyes saw
Will remain etched in my soul

The Oodles of your laughter, near the willow
The reserve of your tears, on the pillow

Osmosis you were, Punk I was
Beauty you were, Nerd I was

Now I stand near the riverbed of your mirage
See you saturate and camouflage
In a butterfly

With Singed brows I look at the sky
To see you soar and transfuse into nature
Your core transparent, devoid of any humor, without any whimsy.

I tiptoed to reach you, you were not there,

My extended hands returned empty


“A memoir by a husband for his deceased wife”


Written for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads  Helen's Choice


Image courtsey Aaiero