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Strum Of The Strings

There goes the melody

That tugs at the strings of hearts

Craves the companionship of nobody

A beckoning of the calm it imparts

With backs bent double over stress

And mind laden with worry

A note to elate from the distress

Disguised as melancholy’s place of bury

As the sweet tantalizing of the strum

Promises tunes soothing to the soul

No matter what tongue it comes from

So competent of making a part whole

An ocean of emotion you may feel

A thousand feelings to the forth it brings

To hear and to heal

There’s nothing you can’t express with the strum of the strings

Thanks To The Storm

It must be the storm nature chose to speak

That has blown the seed into my space

It’s only now I notice it, looking ever so meek

Yet writhing out of the soil as if armed with a mace

A tender green shoot of hope from strife

Among the foliage and debris that became the norm

Of what once was life

Thanks to the storm

And so I let it grow

As independent of my help as it sowed itself here

Seeking the elements only for the nourishment they bestow

Basking in the sunlight with the trickling water from the rain, will to live so sheer

And now it stands tall and proud

Telling me things with which I want to comply

Having defeated the forces of anguish that had it in shroud

Thanks to the storm that let its seed fly

Reflection

As the pick up truck trod over the uneven gravel

It grumbled and rumbled becoming as restless as we felt

For it has been a long time and familiarity still hasn’t unraveled

It must be beginning to lose its patience as do we strapped in the seatbelt

The directions weren’t complicated 

The place, the paths and the people were

The map said take a left in 200 meters as we drove with breath so bated

But alas, two miles we go and no sign of left, the failure a major deter

We did come here as children fascinated more with the country locale

Than the turns our aunt took when she drove us here about the houses lined like dominoes 

Taking in the neighborhood and the succinct reflection of the brimming canal

Dreaming of the next visit as one came to close

But now with a license to drive

When we thought we missed drowning in the brimming reflection of the canal like a warning

Little did we know we were in for a ride where we wouldn’t thrive

In a mirror dimension, an alternate world’s dawning

"You want to know what I believe? I believe in fate, but I also believe in free will. Meaning, there's a path, but we're free to veer away from it. The only problem is that there's no way to know whose path we're following on any given moment. Our own? Our fate's? Other people are on their on paths, too. What happens when we intersect? What happens when someone else wipes our path clean, and we're left with no road to follow? Is that fate? Is that when free will kicks in? Is the path there, but invisible? Who the hell knows?"

Brigid Kemmerer, Letters To The Lost

So It Went

The sun shone its fiercest rays on her skin

Bit by bit she fashioned her castle, unleashing the imagination within

In the tropical heat and its painful glow

Rhythmic to the waves crashing high and low

She made a citadel raise out of the shore as majestic as she could

And headed over for more sand to build her world as she said she would

When a huge tide bellowed over it, backstabbing and cruel

Leaving a heap of remains, bringing her castle down to its last jewel

Though let down initially, the crash only strengthened her resolve

To build back what she’d made and lost in the dissolve

Bit by bit she rebuilt, now with ace and experience to embrown

Alas, the next big wave, mighty and merciless brought it down

And so it went, she ploughed on with erecting her structure

Undeterred and dedicated to every single fracture

The sea waves hitting her with the impermanence of life

And she replied with her human tenacity so rife

Compelled

Compelled by the wintry weather

We stayed in, the haven from the chill a tether

Walked along the corridor past the Christmas tree

Standing there lighting up the December spree

Compelled by the delicate décor so incandescent

With the radiance from the light subtle and ever so pleasant

Absorbing the inherent warmth it gave off

Loneliness replaced by compassionate comfort into which we morph

Compelled by a rustle, we discerned a diminutive life in there

Wriggling in there  somewhere

And there it was, a sweet little spider

All alone, spinning his web, an intricate thing he would embroider

Compelled by the tiny form of life making its poem

We let him be, named him Ted, now a part of our humble human-arachnid dome

Ted would sit tight everyday, sight of him making us pause a moment

For all, he gave us certainty until he wasn’t

Compelled by Ted’s impact, we left the shrine untouched

That must have brought home an even tinier one, Ted Jr, to who’s reassuring presence we clutched

And modestly the unmarred web spanned

Making us wonder while creating Ted’s own little hinterland

Scurry Of Movement

Walked down the street feeling all the weight in the world

Past the flurry of life, not really noticing

As my head head wandered where the burden unfurled

Thoughts brimmed in the mind clouding my vision

Unbeknownst of my way, I strayed

Strayed into the undergrowth floored with abscission

Heard a twig break and a scurry of movement

That tugged me back to reality

A tiny squirrel looked up, now with which my mind was confluent

Shone its beetle eyes on me, freeing the shackles in my gut and making me smile

Looked in my bag, found some food and a text message to get home

Five minutes more, I replied as I offered my little host a cranberry and sat down for a while

Tell Me, Freedom

A double edged sword, they say

Will to control but a price to pay

Dream, they say, for one day you shall have it

Alas, it’s a hoax for many a time, feels counterfeit

So limitless and yielding

Yet so fragile and annealing

Rake the ravages of war

Break down the personal wall

A reason to control, to repress

A reason to fight for, valiance we express

Tell me, Freedom, quench my doubts

Are you not equal? Are you not just?

I am but an instrument, a weapon or wings to fly

Purpose and expanse set by those who wield it, comes the reply

Like a whisper in the ear

But in heart, the impact of Mjölnir

A reason to control, to repress

A reason to fight for, valiance we express

Less Than Graceful

Bracing air, now a breeze as I pick up speed

Whipping the face it is adventure on which l feed

Pedaling through and through the bicycle glides

Past the walker, strollers and the cyclists here for rides

Evening primroses bloom with their wafting essence

Clearing my mind as I balance and steer in the flickering luminescence

Mesmerized by what the cycling spree offers

I fail to notice the pebbly bump and then ensues a fest to scoffers

As the front wheel hits the unforeseen

The back wheel takes a lift, my vision an unwelcome tangerine

Slam dunked by by my bike with a force that deceives

I am propelled into a heap of wilted leaves

Gashes I receive plenty from the bark of the tree I against which I sprawl

But nothing stings like the embarrassment of the less than graceful fall

People laugh, people pity, people help

I grimace, I dust off and I get up, but not without a yelp

I plod to my bicycle, not meeting an eye

Pray for no bike damage if that wasn’t enough to mortify

Never mind that I fell, they will forget it anyway

Let’s get back up, I tell my bike, pulling it out of disarray

On I go, pedaling through the mishap, coming from the other side

With more focus I now realize I needed, experience a guide

New Bones

Staring down at the city, I see an expanse of lives

Unsettling sonder settles on my heart

Their hustle, their battles, their nine-to-fives

What was thought, let down; what was created, destroyed part by part

The wave hit land after land

Wrecking devastation through thick and thin

Homes swallowed, health crippled, hope abandoned

Broken dreams courting desperation and disappointment akin

They say there's light at the end of the tunnel

But the tunnel is long stretch of swamp we walk barefooted

Because the only way is forward even if you have suffer and pummel

For world shook from its topmost canopies and its deepest roots uprooted

What now?

New bones, the rippled reality asks for

New bones from the ruins and decay of the weary

New bones of thought, vision and compassion to the core

New bones to survive and build back, to the future we ferry

The Other Side

Vessel of emotion they possess

Carefully contained, systematically subdued

Never the ones to smile, never the ones to frown

Even from the façade, one thing is succinct

There’s more to the story than is apparent

One day we will know it and regret not reaching out

Now we’re just afraid what might gush

When the vessel overflows and tips

An ocean too vast to hold

If we’re frightened to even know

They must be crushing under facing it all

Do they tame it, fight it or let it?

Let’s say, for once, we row to the other side

One foot on their shore, another on the boat

Lend a hand or perhaps wait to be familiar

Tell them there’s space for more

It’s now a matter of choice to change

So what if it isn’t even close to healing, it’s a start

Where I Would

Winter sun shone on the path laid on the expanse

Where I would take a breath of life

Each day, as if it were another chance

The mighty oaks casting their cool shade

Where I would amble across

And cherish all the moments lest they fade

At the end of the ledge was a wall

Where I would find merriment plenteous

My friends keeping afloat through it all

Walled nostalgia of the classroom hit like a whiff

Where I would find the nexus to the world outside

How I wish I could turn back time, only if

There, I have visited my school, a couple autumns later

Where I dreamt and hoped and grew

Sought anything that would promise wonder

Stood By The Window

She stood by the window

Breeze swaying the blinds to a rhythm

Waiting for an escape that never came

The labyrinth enervating her passion and light

The dull January evening that filtered everything to dreariness

She stood by the window, her life felt frozen in time

Stuck on a rock that wouldn’t let her move on

Weathered though she may be

She knew the rock couldn’t forever stay forever inviolable

For the thunder crashes the rock and wind blows the arenaceous grime away

Today marks a year since I've started this blog. I'm thrilled to express my appreciation to all the wonderful people I've met here.

Last Feb 1st, I had little idea where this poetry writing pursuit would lead to but then that's art. We do it because we love it, no matter where it leads us.

Over the year, so much has changed yet some things stayed the same like they always do. Through it all, there has been so much support from the community of poets, writers and artists. I hope we keep supporting each other this way.

This blog is open to prompts, collaborations and is a safe space ♡

Love,

The Creaky Writer

Run Down The Hill

Sweet tinge of petrichor from the freshly mown grass

Our shoes squelching the wet mud as we run

We run down the hill, not a care in the world

Wind whipping the face, a fresh cut feeling

Your laughter and my cloistered joy heavy in the air

In the moment, we get lost, lost like lights in the starry sky

We run down the hill, not a care in the world

Hearts beating fast like the beat to our music

Hyaline handcuffs melting away in the bright sun

Days spent like they’re halcyon in ages to come

We run down the hill, not a care in the world

Dreaming the wildest dreams, looking at the sky for limit

Anticipation

Days spent in a haze

With anticipation the hours glaze

Along with the hurrying wind

Racing and hurtling with adventure it brimmed

Nearing the nightfall and a thousand moments later

The midnight sea roars as it does with ardor

Sleepless nights and starless skies

A void showing the deepest possibilities that belie

-The Creaky Writer

Control

I had a dream

I was learning to drive

The steering in their hand

The accelerator under their foot

Only the illusion of driving under my control

“You try on your own”, I was told

So I gird up to master the wheel

When I see I’m not taking the road I want to at the speed I wish to,

I look down

The steering in their hand

The accelerator under their foot

Only the illusion of driving under my control

The deception goes on till what feels like ages

My mind starts to rot from disuse

My arms almost give up from pretending to steer

My mouth is tired from asking to let go

So I swerve

I swerve a dangerous left without a warning

Just to see if it breaks the monotony

-The Creaky Writer

Strum Of The Strings

There goes the melody

That tugs at the strings of hearts

Craves the companionship of nobody

A beckoning of the calm it imparts

With backs bent double over stress

And mind laden with worry

A note to elate from the distress

Disguised as melancholy’s place of bury

As the sweet tantalizing of the strum

Promises tunes soothing to the soul

No matter what tongue it comes from

So competent of making a part whole

An ocean of emotion you may feel

A thousand feelings to the forth it brings

To hear and to heal

There’s nothing you can’t express with the strum of the strings

Two Cloaked Figures

Two cloaked figures at the end of the street

Sneaking and lurking in the dark of the moonless night

Beware of their nimble hands, lest there be knives in their robes



How would we know they don’t possess knives but only scars?

Scars from their bondage and resistance, hollow trust enveloping like second nature

A path to choice they seek, to a free nowheresville and to life



Two cloaked figures at the end of the street

Sneaking and lurking in the dark of the moonless night

Beware of their fiery spirits and eager appetites



I would know that they’d steal your hearts and make you want to fly

Two cloaked figures at the end of the street

Two lives inspiring hundreds, if only we would see

-The Creaky Writer

A Melancholy Ache

This small corner of the world

Giving me a chance to step into an another

That's all I've ever wanted

And yet this melancholy ache I feel

All these friends have moved on

And I'm still behind trying to reach the cliff

Will the cliff be my flight or fall?

The questions keep me awake and fragile

And the expectations pull me into a slumber

Didn't see it coming, loved where it was going

Those doors I never had the key for were unlocked

How do I close them back now that you took away the key when you left?

I am a rock in most weathers, for me and everyone else

But there comes once in a season shift and I fall apart albeit for a moment

In that vulnerability lies what I wish to conquer

A chance to step into another world, for better or for worse

I want to find out