Poem: Where the starlight begins

Photo by Catrin Welz-Stein (http://catrinwelzstein.blogspot.de/)

Where the starlight begins, we see a hazy vision of tomorrow.

In the silent corner of the night we dream of impossible dreams.

In search for a way to ignite them, growing stilts we borrow.

Where the starlight begins - we see a hazy vision of tomorrow!

Undying hunger to return to the sun, left us in sorrow.

Strange comfort we take in electric moon beams.

Where the starlight begins, we see a hazy vision of tomorrow.

In the silent corner of the night - we dream of impossible dreams!

*

 Poem prompted by dVersePoets. I also wanted to try Triolet poetry form.

Poem: Throwing rocks of their imagination through books

THROWING ROCKS

I found you in the glass shattering into space

I've slept on your shoulders and curled up at your feet

helped you shape your memories

as we played between right and wrong 

                     between real and fake

but your mind kept waiting

demanding something more

like a flower in a dry land

 

let's take a walk through a house

where children's dreams are caught

tables and chairs were battlefields 

                          OF THEIR IMAGINATION

the halls through which their fears haunt

the thrilling sense of wild spirits

caged somewhere in their youth

escaping into a kaleidoscope 

                THROUGH BOOKS

gazing at the lighthouse in the dust storm

the secret code to board the ship lingered on my tongue

I remember as if it was the last time

*

Inspired by Sigur Ros -Varúð

Poetry: Dream of a stone

i.

stones covered with sea foam

letters of your name wrapped around my tongue

as if it was a sin, gently and softly

another wave rushes in rapidly

no one can hear our game of love

ii.

hidden pathways in early frost

beneath the tree a deer crossed

wanderer with cold toes

questioning the road he chose

for all the sunlight seems lost

iii.

rushing morning rays

glimmer in bees' wings

beyond the horizon they dive

into flowery embrace

living is a phase

iv.

dream of a stone

seeds grown

roots pecking

softly nesting

the droplets of dawn

v.

snow storm in a bowl

trails of a melancholic soul

clouds of innermost affection

calling for connection

down the rabbit hole

 *

Something new I tried for Real Toads. Writing Tanka. I had fun writing these, it was the first time as well, so maybe there will be a second time.