Wednesday, September 30

#30 The Scent of Sargassum

How is it

that you wander

aimlessly to

wherever the winds

compel the tides

only to then become

trapped on the very

shores that you

despised your entire life?

Aren’t you the same

that emerged from

an enigmatic flow

that enabled

you to lure into your


fluorescent life

that swum carefree


just below

your golden-brown hue…

that tried its best

but had yet learn to

keep its identity


treacherous storms

though each wide ocean

signaled an alarm

to changes that

even they could not

have thought to predict

that left you a victim

in between a unexpected

switch that

banded your leaves

into a meandering creature

obscure and thick

that soon became filled

with left over pieces

of deadened nature

casting deteriorated

shadows over your calm


intruding the bays


almost suddenly


gifting the sulphurous

taste of your tears

to every one

who comes near

to observe, and sweep

away your tainted,

salty fears

openly concentrated

under the sun

 replaying the times you spent

running away from

the predicted events

that whisper your untold stories

gently through the fumes

of your giveaway stench…

My Inspiration: Sargassum Weeds

© KohylahPiper 2015

Saturday, September 26

#27 Absent

courtesy: Wordpress Blog Random_Michelle

She had found protection
in concealing her true nature
behind leather bindings of
Christie’s, Eyre’s and
Hemingway’s chatter,
for their world
though pained
and mysteriously truthful
was easier than
the surroundings
life forced her to be
committed to.
She loathed being an
unadjusted prototype
of the monotonous mass
of black and white or grey
coloured folks
who were content to pass
by this changing world
indifferent to the lack
of spiritual resources
that had been emptying
than the destruction
wreaking havoc on its
human culture.
It was ironic…
she had often felt,
how her world fed
so hungrily
on its own death;
seemingly unknowing
yet purposefully
creating dearth
wherever it went.
Hate was abundant
whenever love
was buried alive
and lies infiltrated homes
darkening the ideals
of housed souls
where truth
once vivaciously
carried the light
that reduced
many energy bills
to more than twice
their content
wiping away the smut
of dirty carbon footprints
that were left in places of her
own being
though she had tried
to reduce the overloading
of her programmed mind.
And she shifted her focus
back to Hemingway's chatter
that had filled the lived in
silences of her loss of laughter
in this empty world
that sacrificed trust and hope
for suspicion and fear
since everyone,
like her
in this nearly absent world
had disappeared.


My Inspiration:  World News & Photo Prompt by Random_Michelle


© KohylahPiper 2015

Friday, September 25

#26 The Ruler of the Sun's Flames

courtesy: Alexander Redmon

He was intertwined in
galaxies of frustration
constantly building
on sections of
lost, wayward rays
reaching for stars
that always seemed to dim
then recede far away
before he could touch them…
but he kept trying,
creating pockets
that carried
his unique breath
through the dense air
floating past rocky bars of
meteoric  fears.

Latticed planets of light,
colourfully shaped with
distinctive glows
had kept him
balanced when
insistent black holes
came upon him
to steal the magic
he kept guarded securely
in the depths of his throat.
They arose
with an insatiable hunger to
overthrow all hopes
into vacuums hard pressed with
past and present times bursting
forth into a shower which
streaked across his vision
with woes,
none of his own,
but frightfully extended
meaning to magnify
the distance
between his efforts
and where his dreams ended.

He hung from
the last notch on
Orion’s Belt
desperate for the universe
to feel what he felt
thinking maybe if it did
it could catapult
him into the position
he knew he was to fill,
burning the fragrance
of hells he had conquered
into wisps of the heaven
he was meant to live in…
and there and then
without a second or third thought
to consolidate the action
that grew ripe in his heart
he let go;
and swung himself high
determined to create
a path newly formed
above the galaxies below
and when his eyes caught fire
he knew his time had come
to be the ruler
of the flames of the sun.

My inspiration: A Solitary Daddy Long Legs Spider [random, I know :) ]

© KohylahPiper 2015

Thursday, September 24

#24 Pendulum Swinging

                                              courtesy: Daniel Diaz


between your still palms

is a silky white thread

made up of situations

shaped by multiple instigated events.

It was once soft…

but became hardened with time

never self-destructing

rather, isolating itself

as it intertwined

with fragility


and hope’s steady demise

At the end of it

dull and

partially oxidized

is a pendulum


the entirety of the time

you have left to choose,

between your soul’s dignity

and the subtle lies

that can never be

transformed into reality’s truth.

You’ve maintained

your composure

sacrificing your joints

to keep that thread unmovable

at its centre point

and though you are confident

that it won’t ever fray

above your head a clock

silently tick-tocks away.

Your fingers though

perfectly shaped

are stiffened

from the years that

they’ve spent

holding an obsolete position,

protecting your pride

from any revelatory events

that will shatter the

wide seams of the covert tent

 you made

to contain

your repressed conscience’s view

that never changed though

you chose to disregard

its deep sorrow

at the mere observation of you…

In its wisdom

it foretells of a sudden jerk

and shuffling sound

that will shake your still palms


it foretells of fear that will cause

an eruption

of splintered wooden cries to fall

from your mouth.

All meaningless

utterances forgotten.

Twine you never noticed

will slowly appear attached to your arms

cris-crossing over the false

perception of power

that you left unadorned,

then you will look slowly upward

to be finally aware

that you never had control

but was left alone, closeted

by your own private puppeteer

and after being distracted by

shadows that will define

your self-made disaster

you will look down

abruptly remembering

your rusted weight

and the silk thread

you once held captured,

and with arms uplifted

against your own will,

that pendulum

will rise moving

independent of even your own

puppeteers private thrills;

holding the truth

swinging freely

then faster

fiercely revealing…

no one ever did control it

it had always been its own master.

My Inspiration: Grandfather Clocks and Dolls.

© KohylahPiper 2015

Join me on twitter...

Think on these things...Selah

Blogger Tips and TricksLatest Tips And TricksBlogger Tricks