Song (Traveller’s Poem)

 

The song that need to be sing, had been sang for the day.

The tune is still flying in the breeze, creating a soft murmuration.

The violin box that remain unopened, lie back at view in prominence.

The band is now scattered, at the cafe, drinking and gathering praise and extra bucks.

The door of the cafe getting open and close, people coming in and out.

The door open, the band master looked absently. A woman in red it is.

The woman also look at him and smiled at him. He also smiled.

The violin box that has been never opened, get open. 

The busy eve street halted; the cafe got empty.

The eve air filled up with a song–never heard of.

The old two members joined in.

The new two members become audience.

Traveller

3rd January 20–

Read more of Traveller poems.

Posted in Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers March 21 2017

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The Melting Snow: Smile of the Cabin Owner (Traveler’s Tanka)

 

 

 

 

the eve is coming

down not quicken he smile as

sun burn down for moon

melting snow is aid to re–

veal untold hush of summer

Traveler

March, 20–

To read more of Traveler poems visit Traveler.

 

 

 

Daily Prompt (02/28/2017): Quicken

RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Challenge #138 Secret (Untold) & Burn

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Colleen’s Weekly Tanka Challenge #23 Help (Aid) & Smile

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100 Word Weekly Writing Challenge Week #7 by Bikurgurl

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Image Courtesy: Olivier Guillard

 

A Question That Haunts Me (Traveller Poem)

 

 

Water, foamed and proud, clapping on the rock.

Dock was vacant; silence present in interim.

Cream of waves leaving mark, on beach, in dusted eve light

Flight of seagulls were in hurry to return home as it was late.

Net of evening spreading fast, overrunning the time.

Time–strike me hard. Father had gone and it was being quite a while.

Mile away he had gone, as I know at this age of mine.

Shine…I say the North Star as it shone.

Alone on the dock,

Rock, I’m sitting on, was all I had, that eve, whom to I could confess.

Princess, my Knucklehead, standing far away.

Bay of stars becoming prominent in sky above it.

Did he never thought of me? Not once…never ever…

Water, foamed and proud, clapping on the rock.

                                                                                                 Traveller

                                                                                                       14/08/20–

From Poet’s Desk:

This Traveller poem was my first attempt in Serpent’s Tail format. Thanks to Jane Dougherty (Jane Dougherty Writes) for sharing the knowledge and teaching me on this format. To read more of Traveller poems visit Traveller.