Pritha's pomes

Some rhyme, romance and a wee bit reason maybe, bear with me ?


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A raindrop

A little raindrop on my window,
Opens to me a world anew.

There is so much beauty, there is boundless joy
Even if along the way, there are tears a few.

Dark and ominous the skies may seem,
Out of reach maybe every dream.

Yet just like how the sun never fails
Faith always carries us thru life’s travails…

From my French doors this afternoon...

From my French doors this afternoon…

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It is I…

The little girl with the braided locks

In her pinafore with the matching socks,

Her eyes filled with stories untold

It was I, a little miracle, waiting to unfold.

 

That lovely lass, in the afternoon sun,

Full of life, gaiety, and mindless fun,

Falling in love for the very first time,

It was I, trying to make my verses rhyme.

 

That beautiful face behind a veil,

Those quivering lips as life set sail,

A friend, a lover, a consort for life,

It was I, smiling through every strife.

 

That joyous face filled with pride,

Those skipped heartbeats, when a little baby cried,

That best friend, and a punching bag,

It was I, a mother looking for innocent moments to brag.

 

The silver locks glistening in the sun

The laugh lines that wrinkle at every pun,

Those sunsets when the sky turns to gold

It is I, reflecting moments young and old.

 

The lover who has been romanced in the light of the moon,

The mother who was dismissed, a moment too soon,

It is I, you have always found by your side,

In all my roles, as a woman of pride.

 

woman

Picture Source: http://ww1.hdnux.com/photos/02/30/17/623608/3/628×471.jpg


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my anchor and sail…

To soar the skies, to swim the sea,

To be all, that one can dream to be,

To err and know there is hope tomorrow,

Let’s you forgive, and learn from every sorrow.

To ask for, and find new paths to tread,

To silence fears of which one has read,

To cry and laugh for another day,

To know love and hate can both hold their sway.

To live, and learn all this, and more,

To know behind tears, there are smiles galore,

To win each time even if you fail,

Is when you find within, your anchor, and your sail…


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Love is…

image

Not this huge mystery waiting to be found,

Nor is it a feeling of being perpetually bound.

It is more than sonnets, songs and tunes,

And all the ballads that the Venetian gondolier croons.

A matter of the heart , or of the head,

Either way, love can leave you feeling quite dead !

Yet the magic will get you when you are least aware,

And you will find yourself asking.. do I even dare?

It can be a bitch, or a cute little dog,

It is in the heat of the moment, or in the mystery of the fog.

It will make you laugh, it sure as hell, will make you cry !

It is all about that first hello, and sometimes having to say goodbye.

A life time of memories, or that first special glance,

Heady or traumatic, love can weave quite the trance.

It is in the words, the deeds and in the silence,

It can be your very own glimpse of Divine providence.

As predictable as your every day,

Love can be routine in every which way.

Like a pair of comfy old shoes,

Love doesn’t always need a romantic muse.

Cynical or romantic, love may come your way,

Take it and keep it or give it away.

It is always special when one finds love,

But when it finds you, it is a gift from Above.


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Twilight or Dawn …

Dark satin skies with bits of piercing light,

Purple hues cloak within, tales of a forbidden night

Has my day ended or has it just begun?

Do I rise with this dawn, or get lost in this twilight?

Life stretches out in its myriad shades

Choose a color, it taunts, from my wondrous pallete

Let’s see you paint your world as you see,

Will you cower in the shadows or learn to break free?

I gently pick up the colorless brush,

And look at the canvas stretched before me.

Twlight or dusk, I laugh back at life,

Neither can rob myself of thee.

The taunting voice is now a gentle smile,

As life’s colorful pallete tempts my fate,

I pick up the brush one more time,

And decide to make this painting only mine.

I am no artist to know my hues,

I am no painter to understand the cues,

The colors take on a life of their own,

And deep within me,

………..the seeds of dawn and twilight are sown.