MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “poem”

Poems of sentiments

Poems don’t have to rhyme, or make much sense.

They just need to speak to you, and reflect what is meant to be said or heard.

It is through these words that we express what we feel, and how deep that sentiment goes.

Perhaps you haven’t felt it so, perhaps that is why you never said anything of the sort.

You compressed those feelings together with the words, lest they escaped and found their way towards me.

But I was never scared of showing you, of allowing my joy to be shared with you.

Perhaps I should have been. Perhaps I should have constrained those sentiments tighter.

For I believed that you would appreciate it all more; you would acknowledge the value of what we had, if you heard it too, if you saw in words the positivity our togetherness reflected.

But you did not.

And that is where it was all lost.

Perhaps I cared too much, much more than you were willing to.

Perhaps you didn’t feel as strong. Or simply refused to admit it.

But I cannot press you to care. You either do it fully or not at all.

There will come a time when you will want to say it all in your own words.

Yet, I cannot promise you that I’ll still be here to listen.

On the occasion of World Poetry Day.

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An endless world

There is a world out there
Waiting to be explored,
Anticipating our emotions and laughter,
Opening up endless possibilities,
Offering chances and opportunities.

There is a universe out there
Laid out with stars for our dreams,
Paving the way for our desires,
Shining the light for us to create,
Proposing a myriad of ideas for us to thrive.

There is a whole planet
Expecting to be lived,
To be tasted,
To be heard,
To be conversed,
To be enjoyed.

Yet we are obstructed by the world we create in our heads,
The one that makes us linger on the edge of impossible,
The one that holds us back from everything we can see, be and do.
We create our own borders and stop ourselves from living life as it should.

There is an entire world out there
Waiting for us;
All we have to do
Is move.

The value of a life

How do you measure life? What is its value?
Is it by the things we accomplish during it?
Or by the memories we make?
The things we feel, or the other lives we affect?

Are some lives worth more than others?
And how can you tell?
Who is to decide, if, say a cat’s life is valued less than a human’s?

We remember lives lost,
Celebrate those that begin,
Commemorate those we deem worthy,
But what of the rest?
The unspoken ones, unseen, unheard?
Those that passed by at lightning speed,
Hardly able to have an impact,
Are those valued less?

Every life has a purpose,
No matter what it may be,
No matter how many it touches,
It is a life created for a reason
And is valued no less for being what it is.

Just remember:
“man was created alone to teach you that whoever kills one life kills the world entire,
And whoever saves one life saves the world entire”*.

*paraphrased from the Talmud

Also part of Daily Word Prompt

This is the time

Let’s get lost.
In the keyholes through which light shines.
In the depths of the ocean, where there is none.
In the memories of your mind,
And the desires you hide in your heart.

Let’s fly away.
Beyond the lands we reside.
To territories far beyond.
The ones we only imagine exist.

Let’s run afar.
To the extremes of the earth.
To where the wild things are.
And change our mentality, together.

Let’s discover something new.
Let’s change and be bold.
Let’s do things differently.
And not lose hope.

Let’s live courageously.
Radiate in a broken forest.
As if we’re alone.

Let’s do this now.
This is the time.
There is no later.

A rose among verses

It was the last thing she found of him after he had left.

Afraid to touch the slightest, she breathed in deeply, desiring to inhale even the air surrounding his belongings.

It was the place where he was inspired; where he once sat and wrote down his deepest thoughts, his innermost emotions, those sentiments that drench our minds but which we don’t have the courage to say out loud.

It seemed like hours had passed before she approached his vintage wooden desk.

A pile of papers lay in disarray, all hand-written verses. And in the middle, strategically placed, was a single, long-stemmed red rose.

She leaned over to read…

“You’ll always be my forever,
My secret, my desire, my happiness;
Even if I lose you, I know you’ll be there,
Running across my mind,
Hiding in my dreams,
Drowning in my sorrows of having let you go.

You’ll forever be my always,
My love, my joy, my wholeness;
Beautiful as the first day I saw you,
Wild, energetic and bright,
Glimmering like the sun,
Sparkling like the stars,
Emanating that positive aura only you possess.

You and me will never be,
That’s what you said,
And it tore me to pieces
Like the verses in my head.

If always and forever were ever really true,
All I would ever want is to spend an eternity with you.”

In another epoch

https://wallhere.com/en/wallpaper/1198419

In a different time

Another epoch

There would have been something else

Another form of you

An alternative me

There would have been more

Maybe even less…

Also part of Weekend Writing Prompt #146

It’ll do so, unrestrained

https://thumbs.dreamstime.com/z/old-door-lebanese-village-man-background-79366804.jpg

There was a young man who each day sat at his doorstep gazing at passers-by as if waiting for something, for someone. He would spend the whole day there, anticipating; his eagerness and enthusiasm dimming with the last of the sun’s light. But each morning, he would be there again, repeating the process.

An old woman who would make the passage by his house each day on her road to the market noticed the young man and this pattern of his. She observed the brightness in his eyes at the start of the day and how it was darkened as the day faded. She couldn’t help but wonder what he was looking for, what he was expecting.

But the more she observed each passing day, the more she understood.

So one day, she stopped in front of his doorstep and stood right in front of him hiding the sun from his eyes.

There is no use waiting here at the door of your house, staring at the dead streets ahead. If it’ll come, it will do so without you knowing from where or how. It will approach you suddenly; it will find  you even from behind, softly closing your eyes that are so tired of road-watching. And when you ask who it is, you’ll understand by that skip in your heartbeat. There is no use waiting. If it’ll come, it will do so. Even if everything is wide shut, you’ll see it right in front of you, and it will be the first to embrace you with open arms. It won’t matter if you’re ready or well prepared or not. It won’t change a thing if you run after it or crawl at its feet. If it’ll come, it will do so. Otherwise it will just pass you by”.

The old lady paused, inhaled a deep breath allowing her words to sink into the boy, then turned around and left.

He stood there for a moment, petrified. And then, went inside and shut the door.

If it’ll come, love will find its way.

Inspired by a poem by Kostas Ouranis

Subjective Idyll

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Turquoise blue, crystal clear waters

White sand spreading beneath you like a carpet

Yellow-orange-red sunsets spanning a cloudless sky

Tranquillity, calm and serenity

The sound of waves embracing the shore

A light breeze clashing against your sun-kissed face

A wooden cottage-retreat with an endless view

A drive up the scenic mountains         

A walk into evergreen forests

Rafting down current

Hiking up a famous trail

Snowflakes on your icy-cold red nose

A snowman you brought to life

Idyll only has the significance you grant it.

Also part of Weekend Writing Prompt

This too shall pass

flowing riverThere is a story that an Eastern monarch once charged his wise men to invent him a sentence, to be ever in view, and which should be true and appropriate in all times and situations. They presented him the words: “And this, too, shall pass away“. It manages to express a lot – caution in the hour of pride and console in times of pain.

Our times are more in need of this phrase than ever. Because everything can change in a second. Joy and sadness alternate like a spinning wheel and – with everything at our feet – it is easy to get carried away, to exhilarate or to despair.

We might have been convinced that good things don’t last long so we should relish every moment we have. But the truth is, the really good things only last as long as you put in the effort for them to, as long as you keep trying and keep holding on to them.

Whatever it is, this too shall pass. So will we. There is thus no use in being miserable; instead, we should look to make the best out of every situation.  After all, what’s the point of being here if you don’t at least try to do something remarkable and above all be happy?

 

When things are bad, remember:

It won’t always be this way.

Take one day at a time.

When things are good, remember:

It wont’ always be this way.

Enjoy every great moment.

That dot in the ceiling

https://www.exopermaculture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/painted-spiral.jpgHear me,
When I don’t say a word.

Listen to me,
When I scream in my silences.

Look at me,
even when I turn away.

Watch me,
When I say I don’t need your attention.

Console me,
When I walk away crying.

Hold me,
Even when I push you off.

Hug me,
Even when I say I don’t want you near.

Read between my lines.

Understand what I don’t say.

Feel me even when I say nothing to you.

My mind is a dangerous and chaotic place.
But you may learn to comprehend it if you try.

Just stop staring at that dot in the ceiling,

Realise that I can’t stop and do nothing.

It drives energetic people crazy – apathy.

Come run away with me.

 

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