Dream Immortal

Joint Poetry by Venkataraman L.N. and Joseph Kurian

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Sands of All

Joint Poetry by Venkataraman L.N. and Joseph Kurian

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Patterns in the sand

Patterns in the sand
left there by the sea
sculpted by the longshore drift
so perfect and free

Sometimes with a pebble
or the flow of water there
but always with charming
of which I’m aware

This canvas is fleeting
but I will oft confide
whilst its there for a viewing
at the turn of the tide

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Sky, sea, sand and me

©Jemverse

Image and text created on Procreate for i-Pad Pro

Contented treads…

Walking slowly on the shingle
the crunching ‘neath my feet
as pebbles slip and slide
and tideline flotsam
with my roving eyeline meet

Unfelt

On your ocean
My thoughts twist and tumble

When I measure your waves, by this fist
You grimace, for not feeling your breeze

Long mile return

Watching winter setting sun
on the beach from the long mile
A perfect ending to the day
I stayed there for quite a while
An ebbing tide, a lapping sea
with gold reflected there
On the long mile I breathed my thanks
for all this in a prayer

On the beach

 

On the beach near the water
Breakwater’s lee
Watching the waves
of a soft lapping sea
The sun’s playing hide n seek
behind the grey
But it’s muggy and warm
so I’m happy to play

Sirensong

oh
salt and cerulean waves under a midnight moon
i dream of coming back here i don’t know if it’s true
long years since i walked along the shore and listened
to the yearning tide my heart was in your hands

Sand of Life

“Like sand through the hourglass
So are the days of our lives”
Maybe they were just words read for a show
Added days, something each of us strives.

Your Soft Sand

I am your soft sand
Shape me as you like
By your steady hand

Grains of time

(via Fun Photo Mania)

Nights spilled into days

And the days would slosh,

Quick and messy against each other

My thoughts, helplessly dispersed among them

The bits of the shipwreck left of my consciousness

Floating aimlessly out at sea

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And there is a creeping panic within me

Often skimming along my spine

With cold fingers of dread

The menacing prospect of stagnation

And the possibility of failure

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