Invisible Holiness – Wordle #647

My holiness is ancient.
Trying to grasp its invisible nature,
I weep
and strive to imagine its spiral streams.
Swirling into the air, it’s leaving
the amber earth below my feet.

How ancient? How holy?
Rumpled in its chambers,
my vigour shows its bones.
Three times it trembles
before its skin is shed,
and seeds secretly betray
the future.

©2024, soulmary

The Chained Bird – Sunday Whirl 637

The ribbon goes well on the neck
of the chained bird,
radiating a shaft of blessing
despite the key and the veil
drawn on the cage.

The ribbon is like a mantra –
studded with beads like wisdom.
Looking like scars,
they are simply garnish
bound to make the chain speak beauty
instead of scream slavery.

Breaking free will leave scars
that will need snitches.
But shall we care
if that’s the price for leaving
the grounds of despair?

(c) soulmary, 2024

Written for one of my favourite prompt sites – the Sunday Whirl and you can check some great poetry at their site, too.

Summer in the Forest

Summer filters subtly through the mist
Our forest whispers in its shadows
The creek is like a sentinel belt, circling
The happiness we immerse ourselves in.
Crows, branches, herbs, bugs –
All in bliss.
All is still.
All is rising.
(c) 2023, soulmary

It’s a wonderful day and an even more wonderful prompt – the Sunday Whirl is here to remind us it’s summer! And they lived happily ever after ?

Waiting in the Line

I’m Waiting in A Tiresome Line
Looking down at my shoes
with their fine lace of cool design
(Which are not actually mine, but that’s a matter of another story)
While at the same time
A young and no-doubt-sweet-for-his-mother child
Dressed in cute green overalls,
A cruel spear in his right hand, which I hear is tenderly called ‘magic wand’,
Takes a bite into a sandwich much relished,
Mumbling crumbs and vegetable pieces through
His tirelessly prattling mouth.
A moment later, crumbs and spit are on my shiny shoes.
Trying to wipe them away tangles the mixture deeper in the lace
(not mine, remember?)
On which I decide to chase
The poor mother to a bitter end for why she didn’t mind her beast.

Looking at her face,
Takes my anger off the messy trace.
And I wave off her distressed question if she should pay
For cleaning of the lace,
As I continue waiting in the line
So fine.

(c) 2020 soulmary

Written for the Sunday Whirl #444. There are some great pieces shared there, check them out.

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Of Course, the Water Is Still – Sunday Whirl 411

Of course, the water is still.
By the shores of that lovely lake,
I find only ruins of my own oath
melted down to a puddle –
no shimmer, no chime in it.

Short of breath, it’s just a sorry sign
beaten down,
groaning with the low ripple of the lake.

© MK, 2019

Written for Brenda’s Sunday Whirl where many great fellows contribute words of poetry.

Tough Elements, Sunday Whirl #389

Tough elements inhibit my judgement.
Sitting on trial, the night denies its chill.
Is it shy?

A file will help me do the bars.
I signal my help on the street.
Although, the prison’s all mine,
they still come to rescue.

Tough elements swipe through the colony.
The night hints at the approaching dawn.

(c) 2018 MK

Sunday Whirl 372 – My Bruised Vision

The matches light the room
at least a tiny portion where I can use my bruised vision

I love my nails although my hand is numb and aches
A match goes off and I strike another one

There is a rusty mail close to the door
Like a knight, a guard of honour to secure the place
and make sure all splendour is safe – princes, princesses and all

That reminds me
of my blossomed rich garden, where every flower is caged in safety
surrounded by metal edges and love.

The door is unhinged and falls on my aching hand
raising stars before my eyes and voices in my head

I listen close and savour the voices.
I exert my eyes and savour the gleams.
I think all I can and savour the ideas rumbling in my brain.

Remember Everything – Wordle #367

Remember to gather your grief
beside, and not inside, your trunk.

Remember to touch
your peace of mind
as chill falls upon you.

Remember to whistle
the fly off her sting.
Remember and live

This is my poem for the Sunday Whirl #367 of the past Sunday.

Audacity – Sunday Whirl #366

Sunday Wordle #366

Term of the day: Audacity
Next on the menu: How to span the idea
without losing control.

Be aware that tables turn easily,
however well-spoken you are.
Granted you have the courage
to probe the deal,
life will not be terrible.

Term of the day: Audacity.


Before the Journey Home

I packed and hit the bar
My mind sharp on my destination for the day.

The pub’s small dog was snarling at a stranger
on the street –
sharp fangs bare.

The stranger raised his arm unconsciously –
showing a scar, faded with the years, but still visible.

The hearth of home was waiting for me –
I saw it sharp before my eyes
Then I hauled my trunk on the cart and left.
(c) 2018, MK

Sunday whirl #341 came, as usual, with interesting words to make you think and flex your poetic mind.