February 10, 2016

Scribbles - 4 An Ode to architecture

Glistening balustrades
Of gorgeous green
Slabs of concrete
Exposed and seen
Tread and rise, take me
from here to there.
Lead me to my destination
Oh! Flight of stairs.

Scribbles - 3

Carving away new forms
from the rocks of people we have become
ageing in spirit,
tempered in heat,
crystallized by the icy lack of love,
scrubbing, buffing
to a squeaky clean self.
Building over the remnants
of eternal clay chopped away.

To You

When distinctions were unclear
And my heart was a rocky boat
I waded across beaches looking for you
Not knowing that your love
Was not a tangible form
It thrashes as the mighty waves
I needed to drown
For you were the sea
That I dreamt about
in a far-off time

Scribbles 2

Reality, will you
now be my friend?
My imagination is ill
and needs a mend.

But, oh, stranger,
We first need to talk
Cross our paths
and take a long walk

I'll take you across
those purple streeets
in hot-air balloons
and ice-cream fleets

"Hello, Mr.Darcy"
and lunch with Anne.
Lessons with Harry
and a blue suntan.

Red carpet walks
and pony rides
at my will's command
My life's many sides.

Now tell me, reality
What do you have in store?
I want to know
that life could be much more.

My colours are fine
to cheer my day
sometimes at night
they dull away.

I want you beside me
to hold my hand
Reality, be my friend
and take me to your land.

Scribbles 1

I am digging through my plastic bags full of sheets of paper with scribbles of writing. As and when I find something decent enough, it is going to find its permanent home in the blog. Welcome to the series called 'Scribbles'! 

I took my hopes to be buried
to the grieving graveyard town
Many processions preceded mine
all the way, people at mourn

Some told me not to put them to rest
"They may still be alive, as yet"
The others stared with empty eyes
in silence, lamenting its death.

I was no fool to listen to either
With pomp and show all the way
A fancy farewell I bid to their fancy lives
for hope is a good thing to have, they say! 
© Dryad's Peak
Maira Gall