Monday, April 16, 2007

Words

Where do words come from?
An intellectual spot at the back of the mind?
A creative space in the forefront of the imagination?
Words used as weapons of mass destruction.
Words used as realms of sheer seduction.
How do words enunciate?
With the roll of the tongue.
The accent on the lips.
With the form of the mouth.
And the emphasis of the teeth.
Words used as inklings of semi-conscious dreams.
Words used as footsteps to destinations up-stream.
When do words mean more than literacy?
Beats in sync with typesets and keys.
Warmth of infinite clauses in unison with ABCs.
Words used in tandem with tangent visibility.
Words used in action with surreal compatibility.
Black and white notes with words on paper.
Scarlet notes on the surface without disclaimer.
Words in lieu of tapered inertia.
Words subdued in diabolic hysteria…
More dose of prose

Sunday, April 15, 2007

Sense of...

Eyes closed.
Lips sealed.
Hands clasped.
Hearing impaired.
Inhaling obstructed.
Senseless.
Eyes open.
The sight of lips.
Lips touched.
Love sounds.
Invigorating perfume.
Sensitive.
Visions chastising.
Flavors stimulating.
Fingers taunting.
Music escalating.
Breaths emulating.
Sensibility.
Sense of sight…misbelieving.
Sense of taste...tantalizing.
Sense of touch…tormenting.
Sense of hearing…inviting.
Sense of smell…enticing.
Sense of time…escaping.
More dose of prose

Monday, April 9, 2007

Princess

Once upon a time
There lived a young girl.
She was happy
And content with the world.
Young and naïve
She stepped onto the stage.
Eyes implored her,
She felt ready to engage.
The cameras were flashing,
Directing her to smile.
Her groom was waiting
Provoking her to try.
She breathed in the scent
Of flowers in her hand.
Then she felt a sharp pain,
That didn’t go accordingly to plan.
Thorns had pierced
Through her white gloves.
The blood began to spread
Like the gray clouds above.
She had to hide the pain.
Her groom was getting impatient.
She took a deep breath.
Masked it with a smile of content.
She reached the altar.
He seized her wounded hand.
The pain seared through,
More than she could stand.
Her heart was crying,
But the priest rambled on.
Her groom was responding.
But her words were not that strong.
Her world started spinning.
She felt nauseous and weak.
Her groom squeezed her hand,
Willing her to speak.
‘I do,’ escaped like a gasp.
Her groom seemed satisfied.
‘I can’t,’ came out much stronger.
Her groom was of no reprieve.
Suddenly she took her hand away.
And ran without turning back.
Her wedding train felt heavy.
She ripped the skirts slack.
And on the sandy beach,
A white horse was waiting there.
She rode into the sunset,
The wind blowing in her hair.
She rode with song,
That gave her smile a flare.
She was lifted by the wind,
On wings of freedom…ever after.
More dose of prose