Hey guys. I left again. To be honest, right now it seems like I will never be able to write like I used to. And it seems like I will never be able to use Mirakee daily. Welp. My poetry nowadays consists of mostly random and unfinished thoughts that I cannot seem to put together. And those that I do get to finish (like this one) are really not that special. Hmm, I don't know what happened..
*Full of bare sand and gravel, I am stark and hostile Parched, vast and shelterless, I am arid and sterile Vegetation is sparse, and skies are clear Constantly exposed to extremes of temperature*
Winds are strong, and flash floods sudden, From exteme heat no rocks can be hidden Sand piles up in dunes, rocks get blasted To bizarre shapes, they can be sculpted
I am among the most Inhospitable pieces of land Yet animals live happily in my unfriendly sand Mammals, amphibians and insects survive Reptiles, birds and arachnids can thrive
With cloudless skies when it gets hotter Travellers believe that they can see water A trick of the eye, an optical phenomenon A false sheet of water, just an illusion
Drinking water is scarce but it can be found Rainwater in hollows, or springs underground A stopover for caravans, traders and forces Prominent they were, being reliable sources
Pebbly and full of sand dunes, or rocky and mountainous Seldom do I allow my landforms to get monotonous As night pours over me, come closer and sit on a sand dune See nothing, hear nothing, enjoy the silence, forget the moon
Image credit : The Living Planet (David Attenborough)
I was lost, but now I'm found Now I look forward, to being around For new adventures and fun surprises, to be enjoyed each time the sun rises I want to take time to smell the roses, and enjoy nature's bounty in daily doses Read a book on the best sellers list, enjoy a coke with Canadian Mist Slow down and spend time with your loved ones and friends, Be someone genuine, and honest to a fault, no pretends We all get one life, to do with what we will, I started living for each moment & am living that way still.
(This is part three of "the moon and stars" trilogy, the first two parts are slightly before this on my page. I am glad i wrote this last part only yesterday because it shows how i have grown and how beautiful life has become since living selflessly and empathetically.)
Whispy fingers reached to the skies Smoking clouds drifted dancing guise While red ambers float like fireflies Drunken ash rises enjoying the highes uttering sweetly gasping nightly sighs Crackling heat of the fire is our prize