The Joseph's Star, is a poetry form created by Christina R Jussaume on 08/06/07 in memory of her Dad. This poem has no rhyme, and is written according to syllable counts. Syllables are 1, 3, 5, 7, 7, 5, 3, and 1. The poem may be written on any subject, be center aligned, has no stanza limit, and should have complete statements in each. #Josephstar#mirakee#writersnetwork#pod
Hello my precious ones Happy Sunday And remember you have fireflies within not just Butterflies ✨
I'm stuck somewhere between Fairy tales and tragedies. I remember the time I saw a girl holding barbie doll at 10 Watching princess movies, When happy endings for me Were watching the T-20 finale with dad And our team winning. And tragedies were discussed When Pikachu refused to open its eyes, the Power Ranger's fight Or the Richie Rich's loss.
I remember the high pony tails Not the shiny flicks of slivery moon Adorning the ocean with giggles. I remember the Polo T-shirts And the first earrings I owned too, That visited the party jumping Over my self conscious gown And hair sprayed bun.
And in the snap of a finger, Without any gauntlet I saw the world turn upside down And missed what vanished, delusional. I found the solace in the journey of Paulo Coelho's alchemist Who taught me wiseness and love At 1 a.m.
But it was strange When I found a different part of solace In Chetan Bhagat's pages, A virtue, I thought belonged strictly To the fault of John Green's stars And The walk Nicholas Sparks told to remember.
But the screen glaring at me while Flipping pages of the Half-girlfriend Was the wet screen that filled me with Ecstasy beyond words, In the Khaled Hosseini's Kite Runner Or the excitement of the wet yellow stains of "A Thousand Splendid Sun's" flipping pages.
So when the evening gowns tried to Take over the loose T-shirts and skinny jeans One evening, The silence of the screaming mascara was loud. And the chills of the last over of The world cup finale When tried to match the climax of The Disney movies played Or how the Me before You's wept silently with the Marvel's in a corner While a Bollywood cliché made me cry.
The sobs didn't answer the question, Nor did the man who taught me to read newspaper, eat chocolates or interpret run rates And vanished somewhere In the snap of that finger.
And a mess was left behind, confused Searching the answers every night, On the marks of moon, thinking How wil this fair-agedy turn out to be.
After long I've tried writing something which is more of a rhapsody and less of a melancholy.
This one is for you my baby sister, you've always been my reservoir of happiness, love , positivity and energy. Despite of our age difference, you come up with ideas that blasts my mind and motivation that pulls me up. Thank you for making me believe that angels are alive and for being the best gift of my life.