The past is history 

         The future is mystery

                 Today is a gift

                           That is why it is called

                                            PRESENT

The sound of a Dream

I heard the sound 

of a dream 

That birthed 

in the heart of a man

Like a seed of desire 

That slowly sprouted 

With an unknown torment

To make itself known 

The moment that knows

The waiting of a revelation 

 In still waters 

To  rise  like that of  a wave

The moment it takes 

To take a breath away

To strive thence upon 

That which is now known 

Till then silent beneath 

no longer be the placid waters 

Cause now on every ripple 

Will add to the the splendor 

Of the beautiful dance of waves 

What desires thought can take 

What grandeur dreams can achieve

Whether they be 

Even of a little grass 

To sway in the breeze 

Would be fulfilled

Yes I heard of that dream  

It ain't any of the lesser 

And like all of the grandest

The seen and the unseen 

Was every one man's dream

Written for: Friday Writings #181: Music for the Muse

https://open.spotify.com/track/0Ir10oQlqXhkMVVybXIo68?si=-pGPDFQCSy-zePNPL9knUA

https://youtu.be/NWfsIXLGLhk?feature=shared

This little poem has been inspired by Yanni's music " One Man's Dream ". I wouldn't say it could do much justice but  thought I could try to attempt atleast in whatever little way I could to put my feelings of when I  hear it.

An afterthought

They say I'm stubborn 

while I think I'm not 

it's that all the little things

I really care about 

I defend 

when I think I'm right 

and I try to prove 

the good advice 

they say....

To strangers it's once

to loved ones it's a nag a lot

but i can't just a blind eye

and let them hurt a lot

they say....

I thought I was enlightening them

but they did not

my well wishes down the drain 

an outcome I never thought 

they say....

this was what I was 

a few days back 

now i try to bother less 

hope this works out 

they say....

my intent they say

how long can they last 

oh mamma! my kids they laugh about 

it'll just remain an afterthought 

Friday Writings #180: Stubborn About the Small Things

Comfort food

And  we wanted not our hands sticky

In the summer of mangoes

she placed a few ones in our mouth each

to swish  down to our belly

 

Those pieces of  pilchards fried 

Kept for each one aside

Knowing how much we all liked 

To her children her pride

There were some specials and 

some which turned with memories 

We miss your cuisines dear

But we miss you more mummy 

Written for 

Friday Writings #177: Comfort Food

Surrender

Were the ways one  so strange 

To combat the violent gale

With bent knees , drooping shoulders

Before the violent storms 

Relinquishing all the longings 

 the leaves fluttering away

To be carried away 

To a place called beautiful anywhere 

The freedom so strange 

Of the boughs bending low

That let itself humbly

Would aide the storm pass over

Friday Writings #175: Stormy Weather