To father Geppetto

A  promise to someday be

a real human being 

To lie nomore 

nor any havoc anymore 

But how many times will 

I falter father Gepetto

inspite of the shame 

brought upon my nose 

I know you wait on me

With love that I'll better be

Yet for all I try 

I falter again and make you cry 

But not so anymore 

For I wish the wishes true

Of the turquoise haired fairy blue

the promise to someday be

 real human being 

                             Love  Pinocchio  

Written for Friday Writings #103: Life Is a Fairy Tale

And I wish that everyone wish to be a better human being

Some Answers

Why was I so shy 

Why was I so scared 

Why was I not brave in time 

Why was I so fearful of this world 

Why did I fear losing before even I could find 

Why did I fear to dirty my legs 

And then tried to be brave when it was too late

Why time lost never comes back 

Sometimes I wake up with such why's 

Whose answers seem nothing but sighs

 

But then......

I realise.....

I still have a chance 

To be bold , to be brave 

While there is still time 

Facing  fears would better be

than owning my cowardice 

To tread the unpleasant path 

And face with courage the mirror that reflects 

Then would I perceive 

that the seasons change 

All is beautiful enough 

And ....  I  don't need to ask 'Why?

Written for Friday Writings #99: Why???

Just another yesterday

 Was a little  thing of five or so

An evening stroll to a park 

With Dad Mum and little sis 

On our way  back the full moon shone 

As I hopped and jumped and walked 

with my little feet 

And I saw her gently shining in the sky

I looked again up and then jumped two steps ahead 

Oh my joy she was following me

I looked  at Dad and said 

Look the moon is moving with me 

Dad said why don't you run and check 

So did I

Yes yes for sure she follows my pace 

Dad...ow we'll  have to figure out why 

I checked  till I  reached home 

She found a place in my heart 

It's been almost four decades since 

And I still look at her with love in my eyes

 "Poems are never finished - just abandoned"       

                                       Paul Valery

A probability for poems

  

The ink started through the pen

even as it drenched  parched lands

After a tempest of stormy thoughts 

The respite in words.... emotions calmed 

Another season of agape  love begins 

being written....  without end

Written for Poets and Storytellers United

Friday Writings #94: Storm, Ink, Love