Portraits Poetry Series #75: Reflections

In case you haven’t been here before, I love writing prompts – whether a list of words, one word, or even an image. With these posts, I have written poems specifically about paintings and I hope, with my words, you see the scene just as visibly in your heart and mind as if you had seen the image itself.

 

She stared sadly into the mirror
Counting the lines across her face
Trying to rub them free
She looked into her own eyes
And wished their color a deeper blue
Her lips more full
Her skin exuding a more youthful glow.
He watched her there,
Sitting in front of the mirror
He noticed her
And she captured his attention
But she just stared into her own reflection
And got lost in her thoughts of imperfection.
In her face, he saw generous beauty
He remembered
The beauty she carried
When he first met her
But he was also keenly aware
That her beauty grew.
In her eyes, he has witnessed oceans
He has traced the sight of clouds
In her view.
He has seen her cry, full hearted
Lamenting the loss of a stranger
He has seen her blue-eyed smile
Upon holding his first child
He has seen her love for him
Blossom, reflecting in her stare
He has known no finer lips than hers
To have brushed his unshaven face
To have kissed the head of the child he calls his own
And when she speaks – he notices
The trace of a smile
And sometimes, the nervous biting of her lips
When she is uncertain and afraid.
There is beauty there – and he holds hope in his heart
That he will be the only one to ever notice.
Yes, she has changed over the years
And the growth he sees in her own face,
He sees in his own,
But he finds her all the more beautiful
For he has loved her ever since the moment
He first witnessed her smile
And had he any choice,
He would have loved her long before.

© Sumyanna 2017

Dancing in the Rain (Portrait Poetry Series #31)

Today, the Daily Post Prompt is messy. I could not help but remember this poem I posted quite some time ago.  It holds a special place in my heart – autobiographical, then not.

 

 

We are dancing in the rain

It matters not, that we’ll get wet –

life is meant to be messy

The rain’s fresh scent

Begs for entertainment.

The rain pours

And puddles lay at our feet

While others curse the rain

We dance and smile

Puddle slapping

We are young and free

While others carry excessive baggage

Their boots slap angrily

Grumbling snores through life

They can’t enjoy the rain

Their heart’s just not in it

Not today, nor tomorrow

They can never feel free.

My hair lays wet

Across my face

Your clothes are soaked

And it does not matter,

For when in love

You just want

To enjoy the moment

Embrace everything –

Including the rain.

 

© Sumyanna 2016

 

Written for The Daily Post Prompt: messy

Beautiful image, courtesy of Pixabay.com

Alone, Over Coffee

 

She sat alone
over coffee
as faceless voices
swirled around her
it is not – that the voices
had no face,
but that she had not yet
absorbed them,
she had not yet
taken them in.
She wanted to listen,
not so much to eavesdrop,
but to understand –
the smiling faces and laughter,
the woman whose eyes
mourned some great loss,
the man who sat alone
drinking coffee
reading the news
who glanced up
from time to time
cautiously.
Sometimes, she wished to
know their story,
perhaps to lend
a helping hand,
a shoulder to lean on.
She knew that sometimes
the world ached
and others needed
someone to understand
but it was not as if
she would ever be let in
this stranger, sitting alone
at a nearby table
often, people choose
to mourn alone.
Sometimes, she wished to
know their story
so she could understand
so thoughts could evolve
and stories could be bred.
She sat alone,
seemingly lonely,
but the stories filled her
with such companionship.

© Sumyanna 2018

Image courtesy of Pixabay.com