inside out

A little sunshine home at the end of those mealie fields

Some hundred doors & windows there

Quivered bricks, Walls moulded of clay

It’s swinging & never lasting like moments

Though it makes a pleasant stay

 

It’s made up of everything

What one needs to spend throughout the life

As rich as sky, as big as God’s heart

 

 

Kettles filled of hot red vapours

serves the tea of thought

But yes... It needs a half filled mind

As the already filled cup can’t be well served!

 

There are two kinds of jug

One full of wine… for those who celebrate dark

One filled with clear water

For those souls... Where flow of life smug

 

A mirror at the end,

 painted jet silver at the back

 dark & deep

Makes one smile...it makes other weep

The judgment of mirror is illusive or feints

What it says is always right

Does it show the eye or the silver gaze?

Or remnants of face which one always wants to hide?

 

The house is a fable

a fabulous dream , travelogue of time

The candle drives the way as long as the wax melts

But nothing is ever permanent

When the destination is so far

the path to it all sublime!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[xx]

One word:

Imagery.

I'm a very visual person, so the very first stanza, the very first line, the very first words reeled me in - I'm not much of a poet or a poem-reader, and it's not often that any kind of poem can make me read it from start to end, but yours did.

The figures of speech you used in this piece - varied, colorful, definitely fitting and far from awkward - another thing that made me want to read it to the end: I can't stand reading pieces with awkward diction and whatnot. This piece had none of that, so thank you!

I loved the structure too, and how you didn't see it necessary to stick to any single format, as far as I could tell - very free and flowing.

Keep writing! I liked this.

-Mina