I have walls around me
Built by the flashes of memory.
It’s as sturdy as the narra tree.
It’s as stubborn as the sea.
I have walls around me,
As hard as the iron can be.
Like a spring? No! You cannot bend me;
And like a clay? No! You cannot mold me.
“Take down your walls!” I hear a plea.
“It’s my fortress and stronghold,” says me.
“Tear it down and let it destroyed,” i hear the same.
“Yes, but not this time, when I am in pain!” I plea.
The optional prompt is an inspiration from Peter Roberts who has been participating in NaPoWriMo for several years now at his blog, Masonry Design. He has the charming and odd distinction of having only written poems about masonry. Today, the challenge is to do the same (for one day, at least), and to write a poem that features walls, bricks, stones, arches, or the like. If that sounds a bit hard, remember that one of Robert Frost’s most famous poems was about a wall.
I thought there would be something more on the poem, as that was inspired by a situation in the past. And as time passes by, it had changed, and a tremendous change has been taking place. The wall may or may not be completely destroyed, but that is something to look forward to in my future poems.
I am but a clay
From the golden ground;
Formed by the Potter
To express His Beauty.
Now displayed in store nearby,
A traveler came, and inquired inside,
“Whose masterpiece is this?”,
A reply came from the keeper beside.
“It is the Maker’s soul
embodied in the design,
For what purpose you use
That is in your Hand.”
Melodic and whispering Birdsong,
Joined by the enthralling sound of wind,
I escaped the night into the
Bewilderment what’s causing the water’s
Outpouring in my solemn face.
Spring has come and for Each
Blossom of this delicate alluring flower,
Every part is a journey of remembering
That in my brokenness, a wandering stranger held the
Pieces of my shattered self, and jointly smell:
The essence of the delicate life that I –
In my solitary distant world, know
Be set free. I take my time, and Yes! you’re
Intriguing, yet jaunty presence so very close
I can tell you’re with me by-and-by.
I am personally enjoying today’s writing prompt for NaPoWriMo – golden shovel. This form was invented by Terrance Hayes in his poem, The Golden Shovel. The last word for each line of Haye’s poem is from Gwendolyn Brook’s poem We Real Cool.
Well, it’s a bit of tricky form to follow for a poem, but it can be made simpler by choosing a short poem to shovel-ize. In recognition to one of my favorite poets, I picked a Rumi’s translated poem from Coleman Bark’s – Rumi: The Book of Love. If you read the ending word of every line from the poem written above, you are reading this Rumi’s poem – Birdsong, Wind …
the water’s face.
Each flower, remembering the smell:
I know you’re close by.