Poetry / Writing Challenges

Wisp

Prajakta26 Comments

A wisp of thought it remains,

Walking in unannounced,

A distant echo of the whispers exchanged

Of the breaths shared.

.

A wisp of a memory it remains,

Floating without connections,

An unconscious gaze into the dreams wished

Of the promises unmade.Ā 

.

A wisp of a love it remains,

Formless of definitions,

A play of lingering touches of destiny Ā 

Of the strands of losing hope.

From the vaults of unrequited love. Written for Sue’s photo prompt.

26 thoughts on “Wisp”

  6. Speaking from my own experience
    of course funny the things we
    can and will take for
    granted like
    all the
    sensings
    feelings plus
    that emotions
    so naturally bring
    when we are Children
    Comfort of Funny TV
    Shows Laughs over
    Dinner With family
    long talks
    at the
    Day Time
    Dinner Table
    listening to elders
    relate their days easily
    expressing all the Emotions
    iN the events of their life in
    voice and facial expressions
    who are truly Living Poetry
    in action oF Flesh and
    blood so far away
    from Radio and
    TV and all
    the Electronic
    Devices now that
    even limit life to heads
    down in a four inch screen
    connecting to an alternate
    reality that we both see and create
    as we go etched in stone and if it is love
    lasts so long but still bare couches with no friends
    front porches with no neighbors families with no
    Fathers and nomads with no family moving from
    state to state where jobs make us into slaves
    and cars become lovers and homes become
    a throne of God that we create too
    away
    from
    the
    touch
    that is
    human eYes
    who smell who taste
    who propriocept even more
    and the who’s who feel the otHeR’s feelings
    and senses of the flesh and blood on a Couch
    of LiFE and a Blanket that feels all of Nature one..
    so what’s left.. perhaps wisps of words that last in
    concrete form and when living more than wisp as
    poetry comes alive on the page a semblance only
    of the full reaLiTy but never the less as real as now is..
    For a Person who literally lost all memories of emotions
    i remember screaming at the dark ceiling and that’s
    part of the medical literature on that condition
    just wishing for any wisp of feeling at all
    it’s really impossible to explain fully
    as in that place now wishes are
    just empty shells with zero
    substance of hope..
    an emptiness
    unless
    one has
    actually visited
    beyond the opaque
    window who some cannot
    look through and truly a place
    of heART who some are born ever
    never seeing through a window at all now..:)

    Wisps
    oF A Human Touch
    GRasping For Life Found..:)

    Oh yeah.. Hi Prajakta..
    as alWays.. thanks
    for the inspiration..:)

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