Noiseless Sunday
A glow bug flew onto the tip of my finger;
flaming stories of the briny days burned and burned.
The woman we share in our life turned a page of
‘A death in the family’; Sunday was a book
to her and an album to me and you, father.
I remember a postcard falling from the album.
It changed the expressions but for such a short time
I never knew you too were burning some stories
I might not appreciate. At least not right then.
=© 2009-Copyright reserved Kushal Poddar (reprinting is absolutely prohibited, without permission)
Tag: MWE and words used: Stop, Noise and Where.
Use this sentence: I did not!
Traffic of the vague feelings (MWE)
Another signal catches me. Stop.
Now the bends and turns will remind me
of my early days’ fallacy with
directions and words. Where I may go,
I do not know anymore or care.
This land belongs to the birds and you
wonder if it still is the case;
so many of them screams around you;
tell you there are hidden nests where
innocent instincts are born. They fly;
their noise makes you forget your own truths.
In truth, I do not know anymore
where I may go; have always been lost.
Curses, words, stalled traffic, horns all are
switchblades; opening, snap; closing, snap.
Where are you and those birds? In a park?
I did not do any wrong to you.
Come back.
=© 2009-Copyright reserved Kushal Poddar (reprinting is absolutely prohibited, without permission)
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Comments: 91
I'm not lost right now. two hearts, together that feel lost...found love. lost together in love's abyss of beauty.
I see seperation and loss, and one still devoted to the other, though perhaps more based on whistful fantasy than reality. But the other person? What do they say? And what is the testimony of the birds? What would they say?
The other truth? Why, the birds were here first after all; weren't they?
You not only used the prompts, you did in a way that nobody else would think of. Beautiful, sadness lurking, traffic of many types. In the midst of it, yes, the birds were here first.
This is fantastic!
Featured in Gather Writing Essentials, Monday,
Hugs,
Marilyn
Yes, parents too have their secret lives the child is not privy too, till he does the same!
You are the poet!
in my humble opinion you a very gifted talent for the art of writing & it really shows the creative genius within.
sincerely yours
lacie
Featured in the Triple Name Club.
Loved the second especially.
Thank you Atticus.
I like to travel through hearts and when I do, I leave some love to chew on.
When you wish upon a star
Makes no difference who you are
Anything your heart desires
Will come to you
If your heart is in your dream
No request is too extreme
When you wish upon a star
As dreamers do
Fate is kind
She brings to those who love
The sweet fulfillment of
Their secret longing
Like a bolt out of the blue
Fate steps in and sees you through
When you wish upon a star
Your dreams come true
Thanks for posting to my group, Anythingwriting
behind an eclipse
I completely relate to Noiseless Sunday; beautifully written. The Death Albums live on our family shelves as well--- as do vast collections of letters and their responses. Oddly, very little, if anything was communicated in the letters about those now represented in the Death Albums. Buck up and move on...?
But the Poppa who'd kept all of that correspondence going long before those losses and after, drifted away and died of heartbreak. We 'youngers' wonder only now how that might have been different. If we hadn't been hurt, angry children. Amazing how our perspectives change if we foster empathy and growth.
Thank you for your part in that.
The Surreal Circus
let's feature it at Grass Roots Writing
with many thanks for posting
Mark
taste of tannin