Poem: Journey Between Us vs The Two Feet Stream
Oh, this title can be deceiving, right?
I got this incredible gift from my dear friend, including this title. The title that endures today’s sunset.
Just a point before what follows.
The world is much bigger than we think and all we need to do is to keep faith in our goodness. And those who believe in our goodness. That way, the goodness stays.
Back to what I love to do — just write.
So let me open my gift here. Thank you, Priya Patel. And I respond in kind. Goodness.
Poem: Journey between Us
We are oceans apart;
two poets with nothing in common
but the delicate words
dangling between us,
like dandelion seeds,
forever ready to take flight
You are dressed to rule the world
with shiny shoes and newly pressed suits
manipulating numbers
that no one dares to dispute
A man with so many passions
juggling your dreams
battling your demons
becoming a master
of all the moments in your destiny
And then there is me
Two feet in the water
tip-toeing on slippery sands
fumbling over broken memories
that no one understands
but my digital pen and paper;
each of us reaching
for all the delicate words
that hang in between us
Two poets, oceans apart,
exploring the written journey
between us,
simply trying to write our own story~ ©️ Priya Patel 4/22/23 🕉
* inspired by Ashok Subramanian
I love this one. — Priya.
I am a tad emotional. Thank you again.
Tip Toe. Two feet of water. Oceans. Rivers. Bridges… I get lost in thought. The river should just flow. The bridges can be broken, but the river shall seek its destiny, in the form of a thin, defiant, bubbly stream.
Poem: The Two Feet Stream
Your two feet in water… two feet wide
Shallow and swirling, just good to tip-toe
Watch out for the slippery sand, Priya
For the river that I am — am running dry
Summer is furious, the shadows are thick
How can a dry river flow toward its destiny
Walking barefeet across the white burning sand
The shadows of those broken bridges above
Yet, there is a little stream running in between
Thin, pure, bubbling, defiant of the scorching summer
The bridges were built for the rivers in spate
On this unusually hot summer evening
The bubbly stream of your verses will do
For the shadows of the broken bridges will disappear
But the stream, just two feet wide, remains.~Ashok Subramanian © 2024
You are the sunrise in my Western Sky… I can’t thank you enough, Priya Patel.
~Ashok Subramanian.
