Letter from beyond the grave

Death is somewhat like passing into memory;
an ivory cream rose
carved into the garden of one’s mind
why do you look so forlorn?
We live on as words that seek to pour themselves
into the liquid clay of the mold
leaving behind us two halves;
one that rests below the ground and other that remains
tucked away into the ribcage.
Do not moan, this world we live in is transient;
the cold wind blows as a reminder in one’s face.
The last vestiges of the setting sun
are disappearing
and along with it whatever is left of humanity
I implore you, be kind to each other!
Nothing is as piercing as the pain hidden in one’s soul;
sift through it,
pick out the parts that hurt the most and replace them
with soft whispers
what we do with our time here depends entirely upon us.



Photo credits: Pinterest

Day Thirty ~ Bang, Whimper, Hiss

Skylover Wordlist: Deaths 💝

Posted for Play It Again @ Real Toads

This is by no means the end

The wasteland of almost maybes
calls out to me, while unrelenting mauve crocus bulbs open
I am a match waiting to be struck; outside
the sun, slowly ebbing, observes as I
walk slowly into the arms of dubiety– what little
resistance left within me crumbles, like
massive stone pillars; only
in this case it’s the vibrational energy of atoms and
molecules, logic be damned
there are times when we just know, before
it reaches a conclusion; just then
the sky shapes your face and I am
spared the moment when the mind becomes a blackened
matchstick– perhaps when we finally arrive
at the end of quarantine period it will all fit together, and I
will burn brightly, an amber-blue flame ignited
by your love.



Photo credits: Emmanuelle Brisson Photography, Pinterest

Literary device: Enjambment 🌳🌾

Day Twenty-nine ~ This is (almost) the end

Skylover Wordlist: Match 💝

Posted for ‘Play It Again’ @ Real Toads

Posted for Weekly Scribblings @ Poets and Storytellers United

With every passing hour of Spring, my love

There are numberless questions to be asked,
some of which
no matter how hard I try,
remain within the barriers of less than rosy lips—
after hours are no longer bruising;
I have surrendered to the flow of the universe.
The sky, a witness to ever-increasing ardor that blooms in
my breast,

who designed this path we are treading upon?
Barely a whisper,
my name upon your tongue reveals far more shades
than one,
and I think back to the times when I have made you laugh—
my skin yet to feel your touch,
revels in the warmth of your eyes instead.
Without you, breath is nothing more than a wisp of smoke
that hurts;
routine in the form of your embrace is what my heart yearns for.




Photo credits: Pinterest

“With him, life was routine; without him, life was unbearable.”
― Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

Day Twenty-eight ~ Harper Lee

Skylover Wordlist: Numberless 💝

Posted for Play It Again @ Real Toads

By The Way Of Tea

A simple yet indescribable concept.
It’s a shared emotion which can’t always be expressed—
but it can be encouraged by the way of tea;
an aromatic swirl of feel-good sunset pink
with cardamoms, crushed nuts and cream.
When sitting with someone who isn’t good with words,
let the simple act
of raising a cup to your lips break the tension— it helps.
After all,
a predetermined thought is often consigned
to oblivion
by lure of the window of the soul which offers a better view.



Photo credits: Kashmiri Tea, (Noon chai) Pinterest

Day Twenty-seven ~ The Way of Tea

Skylover Wordlist: Intimacies 💝

Posted for Play It Again @ Real Toads

Milk Moon ~ Part One: The Chosen One

I am fairly misunderstood;
owing to my sharp tongue and never-ending stardust in my bones.
Ninth house of the zodiac,
I am both fire and ice wrapped in the ocean’s breath—
wanderer by night,
I am trained in the language of the heart;
the dirt remembers my fingerprints, the sky my temperament—
I see you
your laughter and your pain;
I am the kind of rain that falls soft at first, harder
when required.
Dance with me, for the world is weary and everybody in the end
deserves a reboot,
a chance to rewind as mauve sunset crosses the city
and becomes lost in a row of lamplit faces—
I am Sagittarius.



Photo credits: Pinterest

Day Twenty-six ~ Reboot, Rewind, Recycle

Skylover Wordlist: Zodiac 💝

Posted for ‘Play It Again’ @ Real Toads

& Writers’ Pantry @ Poets and Storytellers United

Leaving the lights on

The days are beginning to blur;
circuitous rockery, dark green foliage cutting through
empty avenues
and ambiguity calls to me— Spring is cruel at times,
blooming riotously despite absence of feeling within.
Physically drained,
that is perhaps easier to make out
but what of the hours when one is alone on a bench of thoughts?
I refrain from telling stories,
they are often open-ended and misleading—
dear reader, whose side are you on?
The world’s chaotic and hostile minds sparkle with merriment;
and I,
I am the weed in their otherwise perfectly manipulated rose garden—
a teardrop as I dance in the rain;
I am a rebel on the go and I am leaving the lights on.



Photo credits: Lisa Gordon Photography

Day Twenty-five ~ Artistic Interpretations: Willard Asylum

Skylover Wordlist: Rockery 💝

Posted for Play It Again @ Real Toads