One More Time…

Image from Pixaby

Here the stream is so calm
As if halted by the bridge.

Here the water is emerald
As if painted by an artist.

Here the leaves are glossy green
As if polished by Mother Nature.

Here the ways are velvety
As if designed by fairies.

Here the clouds take a dip
As if swimming with us.

Here the wind sings its melodies
As if inspired by Zephyrus.

Here we meet our memories
Each one is most precious!

Here is the old tree
Its arms are as inviting as ever.

We look up wistfully
Yearning to swing on them one more time.

The birds are singing the same song
That soothed us everyday.

We try to sing with them
But our songs sound discordant now.
© Balroop Singh

Thank you.

If you like nature poetry: click here to hear Magical Whispers

Here is my latest release  Hues Of Hope 

Memories #Poetry

Memories frozen in time
Are melting,
Stirring forgotten tears

Some emerge from
Dark crevices of heart,
Lurching weakly

The one I buried in books
Wriggled out,
Much enlightened

The one I submerged in the stream
Of my thoughts
Is peeping out

The one I hid in the old house
Grew wings,
Craving for light

Their grief was muted
Muffled callously,
Eager to share their gloomy journey

Memories gather this time
To mourn
In the arms of a poet

Exulting at his expertise
Of offering solace – hollow
Hollow words of comfort!
© Balroop Singh

This poem is an excerpt from my latest book Hues Of Hope, an anthology of readers’ favorite poems from my poetry books. Thank you.

For more poetry: click here to hear Magical Whispers

Colleen’s Ekphrastic #PhotoPrompt

Image Credit: Annette Rochelle Aben

childhood charms beckon
treasures that still hold dreams
dare I discard them?

***

remember the stars?
inspiration to ride on
colors of our choice

***

all were so precious
I chose the golden necklace
that speaks of our love

***

you keep all the stars
I cherish the bonding gold 
pervasive pleasure

***

the beads transport me
to the golden eon we shared
of sheer delight

***
© Balroop Singh

Thanks to Colleen M. Chesebro for this challenge, which explores Ekphrastic writing inspired by visual art (photographs). Annette Rochelle Aben has provided the photo for this month’s challenge.

Thank you.

For more poetry: click here to hear Magical Whispers

Have you checked my latest release? – Slivers: Chiseled Poetry

Marbles

Ah! The music of marbles
All day we played
All night we heard
New tunes created by dreams.

Ah! The colors that charmed
The fights we won
The flights we took
To possess our favorite marbles!

Wow! The pride of winning
Each one, a treasure
The trophies of innocent joys
Little pleasures of childhood.

Some memories mesmerize
Fill our heart with delight
Moments that passed by
Entwining us in the web of life.

Marbles melt into maelstrom of life
As time drapes its talons around us.
© Balroop Singh

This poem was inspired from Annika Perry’s post. Thank you so much dear friend for stirring sweet memories.

 You can click here for more poetry.

If you like poetry,  check my latest book: Magical Whispers

Stairs

worn-steps
Sue Vincent’s #Writephoto

At last I am here. Eyes brimming, I look at the stairs, worn by the vagaries of time but flanked with love by Mother Nature. Do you think you could guess my ecstasy? Never. Not even my soul mate could feel the flutter of my heart. Holding hands we look at the steps as I hurtle back in time and he gently embraces me.

“Thank you,” the words are muffled in my throat. I had yearned for this day. Recurring dreams evoked me to come here. We had planned this visit for ages. A visit I would cherish for the rest of my life. A visit that brought me back to my childhood. I am thrilled that the stairs have not been altered, each one holds my steps – tells a story of those carefree days, each one reverberating the games we played – running up and down, skipping two or four – the center of competition for the children of the house, each one a promise to self.

Time flew and exhilarating on the wings of youth, I went up to university and lost touch with those little moments of sitting on the stairs to share stories of the day, to watch stars and sing songs, oblivious of the world.

Grandpa was a youngster when he admired the construction workers while his dad was away at work. He would rush home after school to see how each brick was laid. He had told us all the stories of getting inspired from the workers he observed. He aspired to be like them. The charm of his stories and his loving face was associated with these stairs. A heart-warming memory.

Emotions overwhelm me as I step on the stairs that nurtured me; that gave a spring to my steps and taught me to climb higher. I did but I left them behind. Almost forgot about them. I sit and share many stories that I had buried into the fissures of my heart and realize how tiny moments are more precious than achievements of life – in fact they mold us. A cheerful and free childhood is a blessing.

The blue door opens and children rush out to play games on the stairs. They look at us curiously as if we were blocking their playground. We stand aside and watch – games never change.

© Balroop Singh

Thanks to Sue Vincent for an inspiring Thursday #writephoto prompt Worn

You can click here for my poetry.

Check my latest book: Moments We Love

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