MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “poem”

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

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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.

 

That thing you really need

http://www.womeninthebible.net/hands.jpg

It’s the thing you read in books
The storyline you see in movies
The lyrics you hear in songs.

It’s what you keep waiting for,
Hoping it will happen to you,
Anticipating, but trying not to expect it.

It’s what you tell yourself you can live without,
That you can survive on your own,
That it’s not something you need.

But when it arrives, it changes you.
You wonder how you managed to live short of it,
And you remember nothing before it.

The love of a friend is priceless.
Because if fills your heart and soul
With what you long for the most:
Companionship and support.
Knowing someone will always be there no matter what.
Without judgement.
Without criticism.
Only love.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Friend

The story of a bad elf

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In a cold snowy hill, there lived an elf

Who was completely and always enwrapped in himself.

People around him called him a Grinch

For all he only wanted was to be filthy rich.

He was stubborn and bad-tempered,

Never smiled or remembered

Any of the good that people had done in the past,

Because for him nothing ever was meant to last.

Life had left him bitter and sour,

He had felt pain by the hour,

Now cared less with every year

And was hoping that money would instead bring him cheer.

But this season he learnt a lesson

That would be hard to forget.

For in his possession

Came a small statuette.

It resembled his first love

A girl as young as dawn,

The one who broke his heart

And bade him begone.

As he saw it, a tear ran down his cheek

And became ice as it fell

Then another followed in his freak,

As though he had toppled a well.

He began to understand,

That money was not the goal.

It would not bring him happiness,

Or the love of the other half of his soul.

So he radically changed it all,

Made the neighbors doubt their eyes,

For what they saw was a man changed

As though he had suddenly won a lottery prize.

And then, as the little things made the difference,

She appeared like a light in the distance,

Unexpectedly she arrived in the night,

Falling onto him, like a radiant light.

So, the Grinch became a happy elf,

Realizing that we are all worth more than we believe ourselves,

That what we seek cannot be found with might,

But only if we search deep in our hearts and broaden our sight.

Broken people

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We are all broken. In some form or other.

We feel the need to believe in something ideal, in dreams, in positive thoughts.

But soon there comes a time when it all dawns on you.

There is no ideal.

There is no perfect.

And often nothing is at all like you hope it would be.

There is no prince on a white horse.

Nor is there a model-figure princess.

There is no magic to solve it all.

There is no clear reason for everything that happens.

Life is not as easy or as simplified as that.

We end up sharing out pieces of each other every time we open up to one another.

But whenever relationships end badly, those pieces are also lost.

And we are left broken.

Trying to continue life with the knowledge that we may never get what we want.

But despite being broken, we still fight to survive.

Because in the end, that is all we have.

Writing in your sleep

sleep writing light bulb

The best time to write

Is in your sleep.

When you’re thinking of nothing

And everything all at once.

When you live in your dreams,

When you see, feel and taste

All that it is you wish.

When you let your heart open,

To desire,

To temptation,

To experience.

When you are not chained by predispositions,

And what should and ought to be done.

When you sense everything so deeply,

That you laugh and cry in your sleep.

When you fear nothing and everything,

But anyway continue the dream.

When you can be anyone and anything you want,

Without fear,

Without reservations,

Without regrets.

Because the best time to write

Is when you feel free.

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