Tag Archives: song

The Mould

An erratic writing after a long break from poetry… I don’t know if this is a whole poem or three different ones, and hence separated with asterisks. But this is what I penned down as I sat in the morning OutPatient Unit at the hospital and took the blank side of an investigation prescription sheet. The picture below was the unexpected prompt that made me write the first two lines. white-Daisies-in-the-rain

Raindrops needle through my petals,
Splice through my parched heart…
I can see you smile in the dark night,
I can see the bygone dreams again…
I can find myself in love songs –
Something I didn’t dare for long…

***

The canopy of my joy is made of
Dark clouds that shade the glares;
The sunshine is just a dream
That’s best kept behind the veils…
Maybe this was what took shape
Over times of reducing grey thoughts…

***

The lyrical daydreams are blossoms
That last a single day,
But when every day is a song,
It lasts as long as you want…
Love, I see now, is just a filling –
The mould is always you…

***
© Sana Rose 2014
May 5th, 2014

When You Bring The Spring ~

Sweet spring from far away
Calls to me with a flowery smile,
But it’s going to be quite a while
Before I can even get away…

The clouds that hang over me
Are ready to burst anytime soon~
Behind them the waiting moon
Would have to wait until I see…

Summer days and simmering nights
Are dreams of wintry eves~
Only the colours of autumn leaves
Remain now as delights…

The handsome days are yet to rise
And I shall wait for you to bring
The smiles and songs of gentle spring,
To our love beneath the starry skies…

When you do bring them to me,
I shall build us a castle of dreams
That won’t crumble with loveless seams,
But will stay up for the world to see…

– July 11th, 2012
(c) Sana Rose 2012

Our Time

Our time
is over
like a river
ends in the sea.

Our time
is over
like a quiver
of nervous lips.

Our time
was one
like the sun
in the monsoon.

Our time
has gone
like a torn
piece of page.

Our time
was sung
like the young
hearts in spring.

Our time
was perhaps
just a lapse
of destiny.

Our time
never began
rather than
say it’s over.

Our time
was just a dream,
a promise’s ghost,
a pebble lost
in the stream
of life…

– July 12th, 2012