Every being is a jar of delight,
Their flavours sweet, delicious and bright,
Even those that hide a sour bite,
A note of sadness or a taste of fright.
It just gets some getting used to,
Until you find their flavour true
To enjoy them sooner, I wish I knew –
It would have helped me while I grew.
I learnt thought that I should always try
And taste the substance of every lie,
See what they are without asking why
And keeping close those that keep me high.
So with my lips stained I walk now around,
With beautiful flavours that abound,
Friends that through taste I have found,
To whom forever I hope to be bound.
A/N: inspired by one of iScriblr’s many beautiful quotes (click here to see her post). Not exactly what I thought it would bring about, but it ended up in an impressive amount of rhymes!
Found a rusted fist-sized key,
Growing from a secret garden.
What its use could possibly be,
A challenge and a pardon.
A hammer makes your troubles
All look like they are nails,
So check if your key doubles
Into locked doors your tales.
It’s up to you what way it goes,
If you’ll let it get you down
To see so many options close
With just one key to go around.
Or you could focus on the key
And learn to see solutions
So tell me, what you’d have it be,
Advance or disillusions?
A/N: this poem is in response to Sara’s challenge (click for original post). I might have cheated a little bit, since my key leads to a way of thinking rather than a place, but hope you still enjoy it!
I saw this prompt (https://sarainlalaland.com/2018/04/14/i-challenge-you/) some time ago that sparked my imagination, but, especially with the A-to-Z challenge, it took me forever to find the time to actually write the idea down. So, apologizing for the delay, here it is now:
There was a window with the light switched on
Day and night, bright light shone out.
There could have been so many reasons,
Some happy, some hopeful, some gruesome,
A forgetful spouse leaving on holiday,
A light to guide someone’s way home,
A sudden death advertised by dark irony.
It was none of those reasons though.
Because, you see, the window was not a window,
And the light didn’t come from within at all.
The window was just a clever little mirror,
Turning on lookers the inside of their soul.
So tell me again, how bright did you say
You saw the light in the window?