Breathe

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with this beautifully painted
and perfectly made flute
I profess my love
to you oh, dear
airy, light
and mellow
my poetry in music
gracefully penetrating
whistling and whispering
my love, forever you will be,
the lyrics to my songs
the flawless melody to my music
and as I slightly open my mouth
to blow air into this instrument
know that I have you
in my thoughts,
in my heart
breathing the same air you breathe

Almost There – and an Early-Bird Prompt

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  Transverse Flute in D-flat, 1760–90 Hard-paste porcelain, gold-plated brass; L. 61.7 cm (24 5/16 in.); Embouchure L. 54.2 cm (21 5/16 in); Length (with corps de rechange) 62.6 cm /24 5/8 in (embouchure 55.2 cm / 21 3/4 in) Length (with corps de rechange) 63 cm/24 13/16 in (embouchure 55.5 cm / 21 7/8 in) The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gift of R. Thornton Wilson, in memory of Florence Ellsworth Wilson, 1943 (43.34 a-g) http://www.metmuseum.org/Collections/search-the-collections/504019

Blue Sky

let me write you a verse or two
’bout the sky, oh, so blue
poetry experts would say
don’t stress the obvious anyway

the sky is blue and that is obvious
no way it would turn to green; would be hilarious
how do i describe it then, to be poetic
‘cos many times it has been said to be perfect

so, I look at the sky again, still nothing
I close my eyes; I start dreaming
’bout the sky, dramatically cloudy, feeling blue
with awesome grayish to pale – black hue

it starts raining, pouring heavily
I let the rain soaks me, profusely
then, it stops, it stops raining
no longer wet, no longer dripping

I open my eyes, there, I see the sky
never been so perfect, never been so blue
‘cos there is you
smiling, standing beside me with glee
in your beautifully – crafted umbrella

so, ask me to write a verse or two
’bout the sky, oh, so blue
baby, trust me it would still be ’bout you

For Sadje’s What Do You See?
https://lifeafter50forwomen.com/2021/03/29/what-do-you-see-75-march-29-2021/

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Your Eyes

oh, how I marveled at
the blazing sun,
its burning heat
its cheerful radiant color
they remind me of your eyes
oh, your eyes, the day I met
you, one morning,
in a room so crowded
there, I saw you, just like
how a girl meets a boy
in the movies, in the novels
your eyes bear a beautiful story
your eyes hold a burning fire for life
your eyes support a wild phenomenal dream
I have your eyes then
etched into my heart,
carved into my soul,
engraved in my thoughts
chiseled in every syllable
inscribed in every verse
of my poetry, of my prose
your eyes
your eyes
my heart’s home
my soul’s resting place
your eyes
your eyes
my love

for kate’s Friday Fun

https://aroused.blog/2021/03/28/friday-fun-etching/

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Coffee Love

from the night i slept

to the morn’ of your beauty

where night and day met

the sun shines with its glory

in your arms sun’ s brighter dear

the day will begin

with a loving thought ’bout you

coffee blended love

that’s how we are my dearest

lost without the caffeine kick

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Today’s poem is from my book “What If Snowflakes Don’t Fall In Winter?”

Ebook copy available via KOBO.COM

for the paperback copy visit my FB page Poetry by Mich

Yasmin

Today’s story is from my first book “After – Rain Skies” available via KOBO.COm

The thing about not giving back the pain you received, though, was, if you didn’t have a place to put it, you just carried it around with you.

Yasmin had nowhere to put all the guilt and paranoia she harbored by herself as a child growing up in a house where every day was a fight that felt like her fault, so she left it when she was 19, because she’d reached the limit of what pain she could carry and if she had to endure any more, the pressure would have ended her.

Her grandparents sent her to school, where she Yasmin harnessed her feelings and turned them into the motivation to survive. Constantly, she felt afraid that her father would come find her, and make her pay for ever believing she deserved a better life.

But the fear only made her run faster, and work harder, and aim to get as far away from where she used to be as possible. The fear propelled her to excellence. She got a bachelor’s degree, then a master’s, then a doctorate.

She suffered the occasional meltdown like everybody else, but lived to be 65, and successful, and carried within her the pride of having enough space in her heart to carry, beside the old pains, love and courage and integrity.

Never Let Me Go

oh, how I long for days and nights
when the world was kind, when birds
sang melodious hymns of nature in perfect
harmony, with the towering trees and perfect hues of stunning verdant hills

so, come hold my hand
and let’s take a walk,
a walk back in time

oh, how I long for days and nights
of undending silence, solitude, and peace
when we were enveloped by nature’s
loving presence, when we could take a quiet walk, a joyful stroll, a glorious saunter

so, come hold my hand
and let’s take a walk,
a walk back in time

oh, how I long for days and nights
of triumphant laughters, unrestrained talks,
lively discussions with friends and family
over lunch or alfresco dining,
in a party – like atmosphere

so, come hold my hand, tighter,
and never let me go

For Sadjie’s https://lifeafter50forwomen.com/2021/03/22/what-do-you-see-74-march-22-2021/

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Embrace

what is with your embrace
that I long to have always?
the kind of embrace, I, forever will be reminded
of how love was born between our bleeding souls
your embrace, was my first memory
of how you held me tight,
just as our love was new
when words were not needed,
to manifest love,
to manifest you


what is with your embrace
that I long to have always?
the kind of embrace, I, forever will be
grateful for
for it warmed my heart when things were tough, and the world was rough
your embrace, was my only escape,
when life’s contrasting events
hit me the hardest
when words were not needed
to manifest love
to manifest you


what is with your embrace
that I long to have always?
the kind of embrace, I, tried to resist
but it was so electrifying
that I found myself passionately
returning your affection
I melted into your arms and welcomed
your warm lips that sought mine
when words were not needed
to manifest love
to manifest us

For Kate’s Friday Fun
https://aroused.blog/2021/03/20/friday-fun-contrasts/

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Your Hello

what is with your “hello,” dear?
that I so long desired to hear

a kind of hello, i used to adore
whenever you’re up and close by the door

the hello that awakened my soul
fulfilled my true heart’s impulse

a kind of hello, i missed and longed for
regardless of the millions i heard over

the hello that soothed my heart
numbed my thoughts, made me forget

a kind of hello, i used to admire and desire
for it echoed your love and passion, I swear

what is with your “hello,” dear?
’twas you saying, I love you, I’m sure


Happy World Poetry Day

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Letting Go

and the saddest part of loving is letting go
letting go of you and of your memories
so that you could fly freely, freely to where you are now, for in holding on,
you carry my burden, my burden of
not knowing, why, why you had to go

and the saddest part of loving is letting go
letting go of what could have been,
had I known, had I known your agony,
your pain and, worst, your fear
did you ever cry, cry hard enough to sleep
or cry hard enough to forget?

and the saddest part of loving is letting go
letting go of my own failure, failure
to see the sadness behind your smiles,
the pain in your eyes, the affliction in your stories and tell- tales, and above all
my failure to simply stay beside you

and the saddest part of loving is letting go
letting go of you, and of the thought that no matter what I do, no matter how much pain I feel, no matter how many times I cry in agony, you, have been taken from us
permanently, for good and forever


the saddest part of loving is indeed letting go, but that won’t stop me from loving you

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I Bet You Were Right

remember how we used
to talk ’bout movies and love songs
and happily -ever- after?
you said romance is for the hopeless romantic, for the young,
the careless and the carefeee
I bet you were right,
you were right
‘cos at forty -five,
I’m the same; young,
careless, carefree,
hopeless romantic
still crazy in love with you


remember how we used
to talk ’bout our story
our love story,
you said it could be a beautiful plot
for an original movie storyline pitch
I bet you were right,
your were right
‘cos at forty – five
I still believe, ours is the best
love story ever


For kate
https://aroused.blog/2021/03/13/friday-fun-original/

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