Age the teenager storms... my mum says that having my daughter is karama for my own teenage years. It is funny how having our own children give as such a new an unique perspective on our own parents.
You recall my golden past. In the summer holidays our team went to a cold place, like Darjeeling. We chose a small range. We became successful, but some small wounds were there. We didn't care about that.Now, my age didn't permit me to do those struggles again. But I remember those days with respect.
You and me both.
Do not get the need to hike up any mountain even if it's as high as my house.
Good luck to all them adrenaline junkies out there though!
This is the ideal heaven for a creative person where that author can create anything independently. None will disturb her.I can observe the reflection of our favourite WDC where we can create anything. The friends always inspire us to create something new.
Awesome use of the words, Joy, I love how you spun them into a powerful poem that reminds us to live in the moment fearlessly, because we're not alone.
Prompt:
Take any cliche and subvert it to bring it alive again in a poem or a blog entry.
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Bag of Bones
They said, "This baby, a bag of bones!"
and rattled, "She may not even throw stones"
a bag of bones, where my shadow lies
World War II, macabre with gray skies.
But dreams I've built and spells I've cast,
I charted my course, battled the past.
Alas, today, other lines are drawn,
fears of war wail from dusk to dawn.
Although people speak in whispers low,
in death's embrace, demons can grow.
So, this bag of bones sways and waits...
as, just one click, next war dictates.
Such a shame it is, to undo the seams!
Or let's mend the world, guard our dreams?
I hold my breath and hear the moans
and warnings from all bags of bones.
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