Commute

You see me on the train

Usually your gaze passed over me like a light drizzle

You noticed me, today’s eye of the storm

An innocuous fixture

In your dream-scape of blurry reality

You focus on me (dunno why, not that special)

On my sand brown skin and longish chestnut hair

Your eyes probe my prone form

I grow nervous, but I stare right back

I’m too tired to care this second, ginger boy

What do you see,

How sharp is the harpoon of your gaze,

Will it pin my soul in place, at your mercy?

You seem kind enough, black depth-less  eyes glisten with curiosity

You might have been shy once, what makes you so bold now

Stranger mine, that you brazenly attempt to read me

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One

Stretched out on the back seat
I close my eyes and pretend,
My head rests on vibrant green grass
The edges beaded with dew
I see the stars above,
And they moved as we drove
Like feeling the earth spin
But yet these sparkling stones remain
Piercing my human eyes
With mysterious light of a familiar Sun
And I think about that,
That connection and the distance
Then in between the noise
Of my breath, The Proclaimers, and the breeze
A silence settled over me like a blanket
An inaudible click, felt
The stars seemed to smile brighter
As if they knew
I’d never feel the same way
Ever again as I did on this long ago drive
This night when I felt
Myself one with the universe
All at once sound rushed in my ears
But I never did un-click
Because … I belong
I was made of the stuff of stars

©Devina S.

I hear it’s poetry month, so I’ll try to write once a day. I think it’s neat, poetry month, a poem can say much more than whole paragraphs could and there’s so many ways to write them!

Good evening, folks ;)

Grains of time

Wow! Holding a sand castle on your hand

via Fun Photo Mania (click to see)

Nights spilled into days

And the days would slosh,

Quick and messy against each other

My thoughts, helplessly dispersed among them

The bits of the shipwreck left of my consciousness

Floating aimlessly out at sea

*

And there is a creeping panic within me

Often skimming along my spine

With cold fingers of dread

The menacing prospect of stagnation

And the possibility of failure

* Continue reading