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 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, Inspirational Poems, Poems for Writers, Poetry, Thoughtful Poems

All Stories Must Come to an End, or Do They?

Stories

 

As all stories do,

they must come to an end

there is a finish, you see –

and you wait for it

just as you turn that last page

or when you start to read

that last chapter

but often, even the author

does not understand its meaning.

When he fills the page in glorious detail

even he, is witness to the curious tale.

Once written, it cannot be erased

and hopefully, it will not be forgotten

for someone somewhere has been touched

by the very lines that have been written

and perhaps, just a little

the writer’s heart has been smitten too.

To think that it were the end of the story

that when you close a book

there is a certain death

is not to know the curious power of a word.

You may think – it is absurd,

but it’s true.

Every word is a seed,

awaiting germination

whether in a tale, upon a poem

or even lackadaisically

lying upon your tongue.

If you must sing – then sing well

and may others gather joyfully

to hear your speech

for you never know

whose heart it might reach

nor how necessary

those words have become.

 

© Sumyanna 2017

Fabulous image courtesy of Pixabay.com

 

Words spoken, a story told… we never know how much impact they may have.  In some cases, they even live on – much longer than we do ourselves.  Never dismiss the power of your words and may they always be fruitful.

 

 

Posted in Prose, Short Stories

Woven Tales #1: Learning to Love, Learning to Let Go

I have found, that if you ever want to be good at anything – you have to practice.  Lately, I splurged and bought myself some books filled with writing prompts.  Most of them are for story writing, but I have often used them for forming poetry.  I am a sucker for any way to get my imagination going, and if one prompt won’t work – I will try another.

 

I thought I’d start sharing my endeavors, and perhaps I can fine-tune my voice and my vision, as well as my art.  As I force myself to write more, I promise to share.  I do think that fiction, prose, and poetry rather intertwine for me.  Skills I improve in one area, helps in another.  So here’s to experimentation!

 

Learning2Love

 

Debbie sat by her window watching the storm, counting the seconds between the flash of lightening and the crash of the thunder. The speed of sound was fast, the speed of light even faster. You couldn’t see either of them, and that was why she loved physics, the science of the unseen. All of the important things in life were invisible, she realized that especially now as a mother.

 

It was not that long ago that she held Jayden in her arms for the first time. He looked up at her with his beautiful brown eyes and she thought she saw a hint of a smile, which then slowly formed a yawn. She could not help but realize he was incredibly beautiful, even though she knew she was biased. She did not care, she could lose herself just watching him sleep. He was the little one she talked to for nine months, singing him lullabies and telling him her dreams. They held silent conversations in the middle of the night while she felt overwhelming contractions, but now – he was here. She silently held him in her arms, cooing softly, and realized that for the very first time she truly understood love.

 

It is not that she had never known love before, or perhaps she deluded herself enough to think she had known love, but when she held her son in her arms for the first time, she felt it with every cell in her body. She ached to hold him, to kiss his face, his hands, his toes. This feeling was just as indescribable as it was unseen. Many a poem has been written and many a masterpiece unveiled that has tried to describe it, mold it, explain it to the world. However, until you become a mother – there is truly no way to understand its depths.

 

In learning the lengths of love in this manner, mothers also learn the difficult task of letting go. Your child grows, crawling across the floors. Later, he learns to walk and while you think your child is learning, even you are being schooled. What a difficult task it is, to hold their hands and then to fearlessly let go. You watch them toddle, you watch them fall and you must not shout out, “stop!” because even you know that they must learn how to get back up again all on their own.

 

Not much later, they are already in school and you have to hope beyond hope that they learn to believe in themselves. You whisper words of encouragement and hope that they are listening. All you can hope is that you prepare them for the world and that the world will unconditionally see them for the wonders that they are. And this is the greatest task of a mother, learning to love and learning to let go…

 

(c) Sumyanna 2017

 

Posted in Inspirational Poems, Poems for Artists, Poems for Writers, Poetry, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry

Unburdened by Expectation, a poem

me

 

I wait

for stillness

to rest between my thoughts

for the words to come

lay playfully on my lips

I will whisper them

to a silent audience

firmly intent

on allowing the words

to wind themselves

around my soul.

In curiosity,

I want to feel them

traipse across my tongue

I want to savor

the flow of lines expressed

like the washing of waves

upon the shore

and still,

I want to hear them

lingering on the wind

when my heart seeks solace

of a sympathetic friend.

So for now,

I count the moments

when I am able,

once again

to allow those words

to spill forth

from my heart.

This art, it seems

is an unfinished business

and once one line

is carved upon my veins

I cannot help, but beg for more.

In it, is my undoing

and while undone –

I seek to take

the pieces of myself

and pieces of my recollection

scatter them to the wind

to understand

not only how I fit in

but also to carve my own way

beneath the underpasses

beyond the expected

length of lines

and lilting rhymes

I want to create

who I think I should be

and celebrate the beauty

yet undefined

and in my undoing,

at some point of time –

I hope to learn to be

uniquely me,

unburdened by expectation.

 

© Sumyanna 2017

 

Beautiful image courtesy of Pixabay.com

 

 

 

 

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

My First Attempt at Writing, a poem

writing

I always wanted to be a writer, I think
way back to that time
that mother bought me a typewriter.
I was only six or seven,
but I wanted to write
and in my own precocious way
I pulled out a plain sheet of paper
slid it through the carriage
and wrote my first words
begging Mr. Smith
to allow my daughter
be excused from recess.
It was not a lie, I thought
but a story filled with not so truths
for I wanted to stay indoors
protected from the cold
huddled near the windows
watching the other children play.
It was not, that I
intended to do wrong,
but only that I realized
I had a voice –
even if Mr. Smith
and my parents
disapproved.

(c) Sumyanna 2017