Tag: Poetry
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50 Annual Revolutions
the life that is I has revolved, 50 annuals – when all years are told, I hope that there’s more, left in my time store, ’cause it doesn’t seem much, when you’re on the cusp, of the gathering run, towards life’s setting sun, and it seems fair to say, that back in the day, when…
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A Poem From Long Ago
If I tried hard enough I guess I could not love you with the fierce determination the way I do. truth be told I am afraid to let go after I have given so much of me to you
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Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge #71: Cover & Color – Faithless
Your cover is blown chameleon heart shows true colour you faithless © ceenoa
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Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge #68: Muse & Pen – Remembrances
I muse on my past remembrances glow softly channeled through my pen © ceenoa
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Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge #67 – Cheer & Call: Echoes
Your memory calls through empty rooms in my heart tears and cheer echo © ceenoa
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Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge #62: Start & Hot – Life Cycle of an Arguement
The start of hot words fuelled by relentless pride the cold end was mute © ceenoa
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Motes of the Unsaid
Like dry sand running through your fingers, faint susurrations of thought, ephemeral and non cohesive, falling in motes of the unsaid, creating a beach at my feet. Where is the torrent, the raging waters of inspiration? Where is the jumble and collide caused by the tides of imagination? I am marooned in the calm empty…
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One Day Love – A Poem from Long Ago
One day love will stumble out, from the corner where you left it, and you won’t want to send her back. But I think that I will be gone by then. © ceenoa
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I have no idea what this poem means
You cannot heal me with your broken words, smothered by your good intentions all renewal withers. I shall be well when the taste of life explodes in my heart like sherbet on a tongue. I am not your responsibility, I am my own I cultivate my own garden and what pleases me shall flourish you…
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Thank Goodness it is the Weekend
the monkeys in the coconuts lead happy, stress-free lives the rest of us must carry on like worker-drones in hives obeying expectations when we really ought to flee our self-perpetuating slavery from which we can’t break free. © ceenoa
Ceenoa 