SHORT STORIES AND SNIPPETS : Poetic Admiration for the Fire

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Fires burn brighter the deeper it is within, closer to a heart beating with longing and hope. Embers shining brightly through the windows of the soul, it can be seen by those with the telescopes of an experienced existance.

There’s an admirable beauty of the glow in those eyes, for it is rare to find such a sight amongst many droplets that make up the sea of the walking mundane.

There’s something beautiful about the intricacies of intertwining threads of longing and hope woven onto the tapestry of mind and soul. For that is the stuff that amazing beautiful dreams are made of. The sort of dreams that transcends the trappings of the waking world and come to life, manifested more vivid than the illusions of slumber’s shadow theatrics.

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Poetry : Lightshow

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When God said “Let there be light!”,
He truly did gave us quite a sight.

Best seen when all is dark at night,
The show a splendour display so bright.

Like frantic dancing worms in the sky,
Wriggling fast among the clouds so high.

Capture a moment, pause and hold,
And see a glowing thread to behold.

With every flash of light above,
Follows with it a loud roar’s birth.

Many little children scurry and hide,
Afraid of the light and sound outside.

Often it seems the skies get hurt,
For tears tend to drop after down to earth.

But me, an older lad, am not afraid,
I see beauty behind the force instead.

As vibrant plume is to a lovely bird.
Lightning’s own majesty, be seen and heard.


 

Author’s note :

Inspired when I saw lightning dancing in the sky amongst dark rain clouds. Quite interesting view when you’re stuck in a traffic jam. Akin to fairies chasing each other.

Weekly Writing Challenge : Time for Poetry – “The Bench”

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The clear bright orange coloured dusk skies,
The voices of the people nearby,
The swaying trees, scampering critters,
The gentle winds that let out a sigh.

The old man sat quietly on the bench,
Looking at the children before him play,
He had a soft smile on his old face,
Serenity was all he felt that day.

He looked at the person to his side,
And the old lady smiled back at him,
“Beautiful isn’t it?” his eyes said,
“Yes it is”, a gentle sweet waking dream.

And slowly, his world faded to grey,
He was suddenly not where he sat,
He was instead standing far away,
The bench a distance from where he’s at.

He stood next to a wee little boy,
Who looked curiously straight ahead,
The man followed the little child’s gaze,
And saw a family walking instead.

The parents were talking to each other,
A girl the mother was carrying,
They were happy and smiling as they stopped,
And sat on the bench, the girl laughing.

The old man turned and saw the boy gone,
He saw an older boy behind a tree,
The family at the bench was gone too,
Replaced by some girls chatting with glee.

The old man smiled at the sight of the girls,
But heard someone behind him walking,
He turned to see a young teenage lad,
Walking to a lone teenage girl sitting.

She sat on the bench engrossed in her book,
Truly lost somewhere on an adventure,
She was startled as he sat next to her,
Nervous he was, in his hand a flower.

She was lost, not knowing what to say,
She stood up and quickly ran away,
The boy called out to her to no avail,
Gone like the wind and passing of day.

But she returned to the bench again,
This time wearing a different dress,
And the same young lad came once again,
A new flower held close to his chest.

This time she awaited his arrival,
She awaited in silence as he came,
No words spoken but any would know,
The lad had won her heart in this game.

She smiled and took the flower from him,
And though the world was a colour grey,
You could tell her cheeks were turning pink,
There was no need for any words to say.

And suddenly there was a loud call,
And there came running a middle aged man,
The two teens at the bench were now gone,
A young woman was there, waving her hand.

He walked up to her and gave her a hug,
She hugged back, dressed for an occassion,
He gave her a kiss, a deep felt one,
A reward for her graduation.

A gust of wind now blew from nowhere,
And the old man held down his cap tight,
As he peered beneath the cap he saw,
Before him at the bench was quite a sight.

The woman stood at the bench all silent,
The man was on his knees, looking at her,
Autumn leaves flew but it was all so clear,
Her hand in his, a ring on her finger.

And she burst out crying happily,
Hugged him tightly, and kissed him so deep,
He smiled back and held her tightly too,
“Yes!” was all she had said, yes indeed.

The old man smiled, a tear in his eye,
He let out a very heartfelt sigh,
And he then heard the familiar screams,
Of little children, of laughter and cry.

A bright flash came and the old man blinked,
Back at the bench where he was before,
He saw the old lady fast asleep,
He smiled at her, the one he adore.

A little cute child walked up to him,
And patted his lap so very gently,
“Grand papa! Grand papa!” the child called,
The child he took, lifted and carry.

A young couple walked up to him smiling,
And the woman gave his cheek a kiss,
“It is time to go home now” she said,
She called out to her two other kids.

The old man nudged the old lady awake,
And they left the bench to leave the park,
The sun was setting behind the clouds,
Soon their side of the world will turn dark.

The old man held the old lady’s hand,
The woman he had loved all his life,
From the day he saw the girl on the bench,
To the very day she became his wife.

My dear sweetheart, my very beloved,
Remember the bench where we always sat?
Do you remember what it meant to us,
In all occassions, happy or sad.

Till death do us part they always say,
I will never leave you my love ever,
Thank you for being there in my life,
From then, now, tomorrow and forever…


 

Weekly Writing Challenge : Time for Poetry