1312 Poetry#18 – The Last one.

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Fondue 07

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1922 Poetry#15.

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~ Transcript ~


Tipsy prose,
Dipped in rhyme,
Must all your verse end in vain?” 
A happy ending-
-needs no friend.
It’s poetry born tucked in bed.
An end in ache –
It only sleeps
rocked all night by my poem’s breeze.

~ fessonia

Lighthouse backdrop

1145 Poetry#14 – Love, Papa.

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~ Transcript ~


I watched you grow, on land, by my side.
With sand for feet, the sea for eyes, you’d say –
“As soon as I’m whole, I’ll conquer the tide.”
Lips curved with yours, neck nodded along,
Hands cradling the knot that held you at bay.

In a blink, you were ready, whole and taut.
Sails blew full, oars kissed the sea.
I whispered a prayer, let go your knot –
“Wary of the whirls, wary of the winds.”
“I know daddy, now please let me be?”

Can’t follow you through. Not made for that.
Rockaway my little boat. I’ll watch you roam.
Storm the ocean, plant your flag.
In case of need, those times of rotten luck,
Look above, I burn just to guide you home.

Love, 
Papa.

Photograph : Property of @luminosilhouette