fruits of the Spirit,
entombed in God’s beloved pod—
Christ in a nutshell.
…so, as you bask in the Easter season, remember to keep the faith, for the nutshell is cracked, and Christ is risen, thus, ye shall bear fruit.
For more Easter themed micropoems, feel free to read these, as you relish the comforts of the season:
Angel Tears II
Easter (Free verse)
Do remain blessed as always. Ciao!
living through the pane,
bodies snuggled in the blinds,
whilst hearts drew curtains.
Though it may be the saddest word ever said, goodbyes still have their due moments.
Feel free to peek through my Goodbye window, to see the first of its series, and do make sure you have a hearty week ahead.
En route to our dreams,
we procure one-way tickets
through neon nightmares.
The question, however, becomes: “How much are you willing to pay for this trying travel?”
There’s the graceful allure of august auroras,
and the radiance of a splendid sun,
seeing through the teardrops of heaven;
There’s the ravishing bloom of pink cherry blossoms,
and the artsy resplendence,
weaved into the plumes of swirling macaws;
There’s the last golden smile of a summer sunset,
and the stunning dazzle of the moon and stars,
enlivening the gorgeous collage of the night sky;
but, of all the beauties mother nature has borne,
you, my dear, will forever be second to none.
when days turn sombre,
as the night dims the sun’s smile,
the moon doles out milk.
Do stay positive in the midst of adversity, and as always, have a lovely day.
…through the keyhole of her confines, she sees how poor the world has become; Thence, she mutters;
can one ever really be free,
when all that lingers in captivity’s dust,
is the thin veiled irony,
wheezing, “Freedom cometh at a cost”?
With tongues sunken deep,
the flowers sang serenades
of her loved ones gone.
Blank pages flipping,
quaint quills dancing in the wind,
while ink drowns in mirth
as a new chapter dawns forth—
so, what story will you write?
A very glorious and wonderful New year to you.
She begrudged the cat,
who had nothing but nine lives—
thus, she chopped her soul
into facades of many;
her death, by a thousand cuts.
In response to today’s Inktober prompt, Catch, here’s my sketch and Tanka.
It’s the ninetieth lap,
and she’s began to perceive
death’s gruesome talons,
strumming her cuddly coattails;
alas, she smiles anyway.
Sombre seas, the stage;
mournful clouds, the audience;
stern sun, the spotlight—
he oars through his pool of tears,
with none to ease his burdens.
donning decent dew dresses,
dazzles drowsy dawns.
breaking breathtaking barriers,
bewilders best brains.
On Earth’s green carpet,
the gallant gull struts her stuff—
nature’s top model.
Through her needle eyes,
the swirling seam of the sea
stitches her ripped heart.
Tasty red herrings,
on salvers of food for thought—
our daily diet.
O dear sullen clouds,
Heaven’s own cotton candy,
don’t you dare cry now.
Like sixes of one,
and two threes of another,
we seemed so alike,
but as same magnet poles do
we keep on drifting apart.
out of black holes, crept nascent stars,
not so far from the planet, Mars;
fragile, their bodies seemed,
gleefully, their mien beamed,
charring away our scarlet scars.
sneering seagulls sing,
as he oars through lonely seas—
a party of one.
poised on a pear perch,
the trapezist flaunts her plumes –
enmeshed in beauty;
and as we took our hats off,
she leaves feathers in our caps.
Laying in the wild,
plunged in a sea of nightmares,
the wind’s gentle strokes,
strum her furry coated strings,
and its music soothes her dreams.
Like the phoenix from the ashes,
Like the bouquet in my stashes,
Our troubles and afflictions,
Our burden and transgressions,
The tender tendril,
writhes and dances o’er her love;
a painful allure.
The stars, I offered,
along with lustering moonstones,
yet, she needed space.
with the quills of art,
bathed in the fountains of glory,
she etches words on every heart,
with each telling a story.
Happy World Poetry Day
Would you help me up,
when crows sing the sun to sleep,
and my demons wake?
Buoyant balloons blown,
bask in their fullness of air,
’til they burst to bits.
Sitting in the back pew,
within walls shrouded in lew,
I beheld this wonderful creature,
with a smile belighting all of nature;
Her skin knitted in fine threads of gold,
unspooling from looms in Midas’ hold,
and her tress flowing like the river Rhine,
in ways so slithery, so serpentine;
Alas, my heart’s chalice yearned a fill,
but I feared it may drown in its overspill,
so, there I sat ogling away,
hoping to have this dream another day.
The Scarlet macaw,
piercing the gusts as it swirls,
paints our dour town red.
she basks in dream glows,
when my world lusters so bright,
mimicking all steps,
but when my sunset draws nigh,
she elopes with the obscure.
and she said to me…
show me your dream plans,
heave me your broken pieces,
and I’ll build you up.