Posted in Free Verse Poetry, Inspirational Poems, Narrative Poetry, Poems for Writers, Poetry, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry

Alone, Over Coffee

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

Posted in Free Verse Poetry, Inspirational Poems, Nature Poems, Poems for Artists, Poems for Writers, Poetry, Thoughtful Poems

Begging the Exhale, a poem

Exhale
Words
dance
in shatters,
they rattle
beneath the ribs
you can hear them
crying out
like forlorn,
seedless shells
dancing
against naked trees
in a windstorm.
They ache
to find
their voice
as they lay quivering,
trapped beneath
their soulless breath
awaiting expression,
begging the exhale
of birth.

(c) Sumyanna 2017

 

Beautiful image courtesy of Pixabay.com

Posted in Daily Post Prompt, Free Verse Poetry, Inspirational Poems, Poems for Artists, Poems for Writers, Poetry, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry, Word Prompt

Racing the Wind

Racing

 

 

I shall tie my hair up

in ribbons

wear long petticoats

and still race

with the wind,

for some things

are just not meant

to be held back

and no one is worthy

to hold the reins.

I shall write the words

I shall write the words

no matter the song

desiring to be sung

I shall write them

until my last breath

lingers

so that those

I have loved

will see that

I have lived

and my blood

shall still course

through my lines

even when I am gone.

I do not care

that I will not be

remembered by the masses

nor that my name

shall ever be

celebrated in the streets.

I want to touch,

to touch the souls

wavering in the darkness

like me,

uncertain

and sometimes

a little afraid –

to be.

Each word rising

from the depths

of my soul,

in gratitude.

 

© Sumyanna 2017

 

Written for The Daily Post Prompt: gratitude

Beautiful image courtesy of Pixabay.com

 

 

Posted in Free Verse Poetry, Inspirational Poems, Nature Poems, Poems for Artists, Poems for Writers, Poetry, Thoughtful Poems

I

I

 

I am the folded pages

of my own story

the whispered scent

of nothingness

that seeks

the permanent taste

of breath.

I am the petals

folded along the edges

of an undeveloped flower

seeking my tongue,

stretching my ways,

begging the warm touch

of summer sun.

I am the dialect

unburdened

by expression,

words forming

simultaneously

unhindered by over-thought

they beg not to speak,

but are spoken –

an unfurling of images

passages

and passageways

and forget not,

the silent passenger

that seeks the silence

and begs to be.

 

© Sumyanna 2017

Posted in Daily Post Prompt, Free Verse Poetry, Historical Portrait Poetry, On Life, On Writing, Poems for Artists, Poems for Writers, Poetry, Sad Poems, Thinking Out Loud, Thoughtful Poems, Word Prompt

Reality tv

RealityTV (2)

 

At times, I think

the world prefers

a constant distraction

the bright, flashing lights

of profitable pursuits

that promise

longevity

strength

poise

and beauty

or perhaps,

a grand distraction

to see not,

where we once thrived,

a snake-oil pursuit

of dreams.

Were the sign not flashing,

none would ever see,

for the blandness

of her soil

would not warrant

inspection,

yet how much

is overlooked?

how much

is overlooked?

Just how much

beauty

is hidden

beneath the cracks?

and how much talent

curdles at the wayside

while people clip passages

(shoveling them through)

and the masses applaud?

Where are all

those unspoken dreams

those unfulfilled promises

and those downtrodden hopes?

While the creators create

the fruit

at their fingertips

sits among the cobwebs

waiting for someone to see.

The painters paint

in broader strokes

tearing at their chests

with worry

the writers write,

souls sent in whispers

across the pages

each sheet torn

tossed

and then repeat,

but the world

is busy

reaching for their popcorn

and consuming reality tv.

 

© Sumyanna 2017

 

Written for The Daily Post Prompt: prefer

Fabulous image courtesy of Pixabay.com

Posted in Free Verse Poetry, Poems for Writers, Poetry, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry

Covered in Dust, a poem

Dust

I may be words

stuffed away in an attic,

covered in dust,

but the ink

has bled its lines

upon the page

and they cannot

be undone.

They are the

souls searching

for itself,

the stillness

requesting to be sung,

they are the heartbeat

and the soul

of every

uttered breath.

They meant something

they meant something

they meant something

to me –

to have filled

these passing moments

taking space

within my brain

and scratching

at my senses.

They would not

let me

refuse to speak.

At moments,

I have watched

the unfurled petals

of spring’s bounty

creep forth

against the passing of time.

I have detailed her edges,

witnessed her beauty,

and ached to paint

her longing reach.

At moments,

I have witnessed

injustice –

seen words spat

across centuries

men bent over

hobbled beneath

the expectations of their skin.

He tries to run,

but we have

lacerated his limbs

and when he speaks –

we blame his tongue,

so I shall add my voice

to the voices calling out

begging for change.

It matters not,

that my pages

shall never curl

with overuse

nor that the dust

may seek

to squander my words.

I speak

so that I may silence

the nagging urge

to empty

my soul’s contents

to see, to feel, to witness

life’s passing

and to revel in its meaning,

to leave my heart,

to leave…

my heart,

for anyone in passing,

that needed the song

sung.

 

© Sumyanna 2017