It’s hard to let go of flowers and fire when
one has embodied them their entire life;
I was nocturnal, pulsing with the moon’s energy
and lending heart every now and then,
I didn’t know that some of them would lie.
I fly through abalone clouds
with strange birds now and wonder what it all
meant and why.
I have thought about why I love blustery windy days;
perhaps, I needed respite from heat,
as spring bloomed under skin,
and a thousand words burst forth to touch,
softly at first and then persistently
with an intention to capture hearts that have wilted,
some were favorites
while others scored without regret—
I would have liked to know them better while
there was time;
I wonder if they cried when I was being placed into
the ground, who knows.
And what of this heart, that falls in love
as quickly as one catches a cold;
I was vibrant, as spice is
with layers of complex flavors so to speak,
it’s difficult to forget,
hands full of collected heartbeats and a voice
that sings,
could the impossible ensue, so that I could
tell them melodies were sincere
atleast from my end—
spring littering the black and glossy asphalt,
doesn’t it know that people fail to appreciate?
Strange birds, I have been heard many times,
but it feels like candor was wasted,
it’s midnight, and the moon is shaped
like a prayer, the sensitive ones
it seems, are lost in the rain,
I see them, from the clouds, holding on
desperately to hope that blossoms–
how do I return and tell them they are not
alone in their desires for something worthwhile?
Just then, the alarm rings,
I open my eyes and breathe a sigh of relief.
Here we go again.
Photo credits: Pinterest
Loosely inspired by “STRANGE BIRDS,” WRITTEN BY SIA FURLER & BIRDY 🐦
Posted for Open Link Night @340 @dVerse Poets Pub
A gorgeous poem, Sanaa. I love the title, the reflective tone, and the lines:
‘I was nocturnal, pulsing with the moon’s energy ‘;
‘…a thousand words burst forth to touch,
softly at first and then persistently
with an intention to capture hearts that have wilted’;
and especially
’it’s midnight, and the moon is shaped
like a prayer…’
Awww gosh! Thank you so much, Kim 😍 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
Sanaa, this is an exquisite and poignant poem. My favorite, very favorite, part is this:
“it’s midnight, and the moon is shaped
like a prayer, the sensitive ones
it seems, are lost in the rain,”
Thank you so much, Ms Jade 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
A poem and a dream wrapped in one, so surreal, so beautiful! Oh how I love “hands full of collected heartbeats” but this made me pause…”I wonder if they cried when I was being placed into
the ground, who knows.” Captivating!
Thank you so much, Mish 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
“it’s difficult to forget,
hands full of collected heartbeats and a voice
that sings, ”
Nice one Sanaa
Much💖love
Thank you so much, Gillena 😀 so good to see you 💄❤️
Much love back 🥂
I love your wonderful poem, Sanaa! So many great vivid images. You must dream in color!!
This was especially well written:
And what of this heart, that falls in love
as quickly as one catches a cold;
I was vibrant, as spice is
with layers of complex flavors so to speak
Thank you so much, Dwight 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
My favorite parts, too.
“hands full of collected heartbeats and a voice
that sings,”
and
“and the moon is shaped
like a prayer”
and
“I fly through abalone clouds
with strange birds”
Lovely.❤️❤️❤️❤️
Awww gosh! Thank you so much, Melissa 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
Did you know women dream far more often in color than men? We have a history with that, in color or black and white, and the assessment here of what the heart was seeking becomes a floral despair. Not to worry, getting to the heart of the heart, the heat and hurt of its desire and hurt is what poetry is for.
Thank you so much for your kind and insightful comment, B! 💄❤️
Beautiful and poignant, Sanaa, with a sense of lost and longing.
“it’s difficult to forget,
hands full of collected heartbeats and a voice
that sings, ” 💙💙
Thank you so much, Merril 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
Gorgeously poignant, Sanaa… just… WOW…
Much love,
David
Thank you so much, David 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
In dreams our heart tells us its truth-“layers of complex flavors”–as your words are, always.
Absolutely! Thank you so much, Kerfe 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
Just then, the alarm rings,
I open my eyes and breathe a sigh of relief.
Good dreams are always welcomed and only good people are privileged! Great take Sanaa!
Hank
Thank you so much, Hank 😀 so glad the poem and its imagery appealed to you 💄❤️
Sending these lines back to you in appreciation.
“it’s midnight, and the moon is shaped
like a prayer, the sensitive ones
it seems, are lost in the rain,
I see them, from the clouds, holding on
desperately to hope that blossoms–
how do I return and tell them they are not
alone in their desires for something worthwhile?”
This touched my heart.
Awww gosh! Thank you so much, Ali 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
Could the impossible ensue – I love that question i keep going back to it, existential in a romantic context, full of life.
Thank you so much, Paul 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️