The Poetry Marathon

A love once bright,
Now fading,
Laughter slowly receding,
Leaving me to ponder, where did love go?

Though our love didn’t forever last,
In what used to be,
I’ll find solace in cherished memories.

.

Bling bling
Oh my what a shiny little gem
for your neck, your wrist and finger
Welcome to the shop called bling bling jewellers
where I tell you “Give ’em a try”

Each closet has a purpose,
a closet visited often,
a closet full of cobwebs,
closed and never to be opened.

In the inner chambers of these closets,
lay fears, unspoken words, regrets, mistakes, and unshed tears.
Away from prying eyes and ears,
kept tucked away for many years.

But closets are also a space for fresh starts,
once the tight seal is opened,
out comes healing, truth and light.

Let us not be bound by our closets,
take out the broom and pan,
dust away the debris,
and bring to light the stories and emotions that make us be.

In the realm of the mundane and plain,
behold the humble paperclip.

So small but mighty,
a saviour of papers.

Bending and twisting,
an emblem of order in a chaotic space.

A humble paperclip,
uniting pages, dreams and thoughts

Love is honey running through my veins
Love is soft as a pillow

Love is a blossoming flower
strong enough to withstand hurricanes

Love doesn’t leave room for confusion
Love is loud and clear

Love is the tender hand, on my hand
Love is a smooth touch

Love is a warm freshly baked bread
Love is my mother’s cooking

It’s hard to write all the things that love is
because love is everything and everywhere to see

You gave me your jacket,
with a tremor in your hand.

We both knew today was the last time
We will see each other.

There was a lightbulb moment,
when I knew it was time to move on.

Like cinnamon,
sweet at first, but bitter when too much.

A once rushing ocean,
had become a bayou.

Sleep is calling,
time to go to bed.

The darkness of the sky,
whispers a melody to my ears.

I tuck into the clouds,
A soft breeze kisses me goodnight…..

A warm hand caresses my cheek,
wake up she says.

As I open my eyes, I see,
a pool of light made of orange and honey.

I dip my toes in the warm lake,
I am lifted by the melody of morning birds.

The day has come.

Image prompt:

I like being here with you,
under the canopy of palm trees.
Listening to the waves,
dozing off to sleep.

The sweet smell of flowers,
fill our bodies.
How tranquil it is,
being here with you.

Prompt: “There are so many nature poems out there. Our prompt for this hour of the night is to write a poem for a city, real or imagined.”

This city is known as:
Half of the world.
With its historic beauty and wonder,
it’ll leave you in awe.

Humans walked this city for thousands of years,
leaving behind artifacts, palaces, geometric architecture,
and grand boulevards.
You can see half the world in this city.

A city I call home,
Esfahan.