Soaring High

Pic from Google

Sometimes I walk past the moon. And check on the stars. Write  nonsensical gibberish on a piece of soiled paper , tear it off to bits and pieces and throw the morsels to the vagabond wind. Let it fly………………………!!!!

See the dancing sunshine on the Neem leaves! The stark branches gatecrash into my attic window. I ask why and spend endless hours in unseen gazing. Suddenly I wish to climb up the ageless tree and pinch the clouds. Can I spread wings and explore the limits of the sky? Aaaah!…………The ultimate taste of freedom. Of leaving the Earth way behind till it is just a speck in the horizon.

Or is there a horizon anymore?

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About gc1963

A working woman with interests in reading, writing, music, poetry and fine arts.

18 responses »

  1. Bikramjit says:

    A lovely write up but a bit sad too why do we think the ultimate freedom is when we go..

    Maybe we human beings can be good and work together to make everything better..

    Although philosophically speaking the ultimate freedom is only then when earth is a spec in the horizon..

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Hummingwords says:

    That was beautiful, I loved the imagery 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Hemant says:

    This was superb attempt indeed!!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. KP says:

    Imagination running riot and captured in scintillating lines.Felt happy after reading.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. It’s so beautiful…loved the spirit of freedom exudeing from it…. 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  6. jmathur says:

    Beautiful poem. Death itself is poetry as can be found in many works of art. As far as yourself is concerned, since (I suppose) you are originally a poetess, every work of yours is a reflection of your poetic persona only. Not only this piece but all of your articles and stories are also worthy of being termed as prose poetry.

    Jitendra Mathur

    Liked by 1 person

  7. I agree with Mathur ji’s comment above. Prose poetry is your literary signature.. Wonderful piece,,

    Liked by 2 people

  8. gc1963 says:

    Humbled by your presence and appreciation

    Like

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