By Iona Mandal
Highly Commended, ‘Growing Word’ Category
foghorn misty morn
in the compass of places
the ship in my eyes,
far from frenzied crowds
dandelion dropping peace
in a world of fight,
as dewdrops glisten
catching the hide-and-seek sun
learning to make peace.
matchstick raindrops fall
slumber on the red-brick roof
the sun rests in peace,
a pair of blackbirds
in spring showers chirp and wet
dancing beak to beak,
blossoms fall like tears
from overlapping branches
i count and gather.
to the autumn winds
dead leaves rise in cosmic dance
a dancing cyclone,
fetters of life rust
orange, brown, gold and mustard
a new year treads in,
on the rusty gate
i had not noticed autumn
she had gone too soon.
on the barren roads
each sweep in gentle stroke wipes
life uncurls alive,
i sweat in labour
ashen hands joined in prayer
bat wings by the night,
i live here each day
broken streets, broken footsteps
saudade on sleepless nights.
tears drop like dewdrops
even amidst my dreaming
i wipe and move on,
in undying zeal
for when passion rules the roost
each struggle seems small,
a halo surrounds
binding love and belonging
one dream at a time.
a globe of vibrance
enclosed in a skin of warmth
the sun in my palm,
spread kindness afar
like a spring dandelion
blowing in the breeze,
let that single act
outshine you in the darkness
join the gaps between.
Growing Word poems