POETRY – Page 3 – scribeforlove.wordpress.com

I acknowledge the long unexplained silence As I sit upon my patio Gazing at my foresty-garden: Autumn rains it's leaves in gusts of winds Pitter-patter to the ground In the lull, like the in-breath, a leaf drifts Down to touch the ground Like a little foraging bird. Leaves leaving the branch akin to letting go. A family of birds, Wax bill finches, twitter and chortle Whilst eating from the bird feeder In the background an Olive thrush whistles with gratitude As it splashes and sips the cool water from my miniature pond. And the dove softly says its peaceful prayers in the warm sunlight. Something drops upon my shoulder As Nature draws my attention yonder. My sacred music is ever with me, In me, around me, before me and behind. I apologize for my silence Even although I know it was necessary. Sitting quietly is a gift For the giver…

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A RE-BLOG POST A Tiny Voice…………….

February 9, 2022February 8, 2022 scribeforlove.wordpress.com

O, Kamal, you have captured thoughts that most people twirl in their minds. Bravo for this awesome re-blog here.

Boundless Blessings by Kamal

There is a tiny sweet Voice

Deep inside of me

That whispers all day long

Not a minute of quiet

Keeps on murmuring all the time

‘I feel that this is right for me,

I know that this is wrong

What will people think of me,

Will they ridicule me or be understanding.‘

No teacher, parent, friend,

Or a sage can decide what’s right for you

Have you ever so quietly listened

To that tiny sweet Voice

Tip-toeing in your beautiful heart

Who prods you to keep silent

To not talk needlessly

But listen with extra caution

And see the real You

That does not use Words

But speaks softly and tenderly inside of You.……………

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A RE-BLOG POST – The poem that started it all

February 1, 2022January 29, 2022 scribeforlove.wordpress.com

Exquisite, a worthy re-read and re-blog, Merci!

Redressed

The poem that started it all was an imperfect poem. That is literally what this not yet a poet called it. My dreams an imperfect poem. Doing poorly in school seemed to be my thing. In just about every subject this was the case, languages with its poems was no exception. Every poem, every single one of them was according to my teachers interpreted wrong. Never apparently having the ability to grasp the rules and concepts that goes along with this form of human expression.

However, inspired by Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven by W. B. Yeats from my heart there came a poem. Thinking of all the probable flaws it had to entail the name was given. Just as my blog at the time was called an imperfect blog. Another blogger re-posted it and it gained if I remember correctly around three hundred likes. This encouraged me to…

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