Thursday, October 15, 2015

V is for ... Voice

Winds of whispers
Blow around me
And toss our words
In the dark silence.
Our hushed voices,
Long conversations,
Longer phone bills,
Resplendent nights.
You and me
Talking our hearts out
Till the wee hours of morning
Used to dawn upon us.
A million words scattered,
Between you and me
And bridging the distance
Beneath a million stars.
Now a million stars
Watch over me
As I stare at dark screen
Of my phone
And pine to hear
From you.
Your voice drifting away,
Receding to memoirs
Of yesterday.

Jenny Matlock

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

The sacred altar

One has to approach
This altar,
Place the beating heart
At this sacred pedestal
And stand to worship.
Reach the deep insides
And surrender completely.
Burn away,
Slowly but intensely.
So, here I am.
My prayers rising
With the incensed mists.

Lingering over

Warm suspirations,
Lingering over my soul,
Our shenanigans.

Inspired by the prompt at

Friday, October 9, 2015

Speaking of shadows

Tricks of light,
Stalking the corners of dreams,
Like a haunting phantasma.
Slivers of life linger in
A pocketfull of sunshine.
The dancing flames grow,
And the shadow slips by,
Consigned to Cimmerian dooms.

Image by T. Al. Nakib on

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Joy of being alive

Every time I breathe,
Someone somewhere breathes his last.
Each waking moment,
Hallowed with being alive.
This life is such a treasure.

Monday, October 5, 2015

Thursday, October 1, 2015

The Tempest

The tepid calmness beneath the somber shroud
Pregnant with a promise of violent storm
The preceding silence is intensely loud

Still and stagnant, like a painting in the dorm
Ships return, seagulls take refuge at the coast
In those darkened hours barely before the storm

And then the gusts taste of thunder, roar and boast
Blizzards twist and twirl the weather-vanes about
Deafening howls resound from pits nethermost

A chaos reigns within, a chaos, without.

Until a sliver of hope is tossed about.

Courtesy: Louise, with The Storyteller's Abode

T is for ... Treats

This little heart leaps,
Delights in flyspeck pleasures,
Wallows in halcyon days.

This little heart springs,
Treats itself to happiness,
Though the portions are too small.

Jenny Matlock