Writing Prompt

Beauty is

Fleeting,

To put it

Simply,

The world is

Burning,

We just don’t

Notice.

Right before our very

Eyes,

The world is crashing

Down,

Burned to

Ash,

We’re all doomed to fall and

Crash.

But even with the

Destruction,

The nightmares following us to

Hell and back,

Still today,

The song of the birds

Can be heard

Outside the window....

It started out bright

Full of light

The bold marks of Sunday

And refracting sunrays

Pouring through the window

And through the pond water to the minnows

The trees soaked up the love

And kisses from the sun

The animals played

All throughout the day

Then came winter

The curtains tightly closed

The season had changed

Now I only see snow

Only a blank canvas

Of white and dark grey

No more spirit ...

Sometimes, sometimes it’s okay to feel black and white like the Willy wagtails.

Sometimes, it’s okay to sing and be free in the treetops like the Australian magpies singing their songs greeting the sunrise.

Sometimes, it’s okay to be different and to go through each colour of the rainbow like the rainbow lorikeets.

Sometimes, it’s okay to be red and blue just like the crimson rosellas being n...

When the nights turn dark

And the sun lays its head rest

I look for your light

But you’ve faded into the void

And the void swallows me whole

Like a shark and its prey

Tricked by the swaying waters

Lost in a sea of lust

You promised me love luminously

But only stole what was left of mine

And left me a dying flame

When to powers go out

So I lay awake in bed

Telling the moon my hearts story

Becau...

After all the atom bombs,

After all the flames,

Somehow we’re still here.

The willows still weep

And the ivy still grows.

We’re all still here.

Millions of widows,

Billions alone.

But somehow

Still today, the song of the birds can be heard outside the window....

The melody of morning birds, once a joyous serenade,

Now echoes a love lost, a heart tattered and frayed.

We’d wake tangled in sunlight, your smile the waking dawn,

But now, these empty sheets whisper of what has gone.

The world spins on its axis, oblivious to my plight,

Bathed in the same sunshine, yet shrouded in endless night.

Each chirp a memory, a fluttering of your touch,

A bittersweet sym...

whenever i think about it, it feels like a fever dream

hiding somewhere under a willow tree

climb the ladder to gaze over the canopy

i remember when i was young, this was my escape

still obtains my trinkets, the baby blue colored drapes

a portal to my past, caught up in a limbo

still today, the song of birds can be heard outside the window...

The birds outside my window sing songs

The most beautiful ones to hear

But they never decided to last long

And soon we were brought back to fear

The songs drowned out the screams

If there’s anywhere you will find me

It is begging them to come for me in my dreams

As i grew older the birds kept singing

Though it became hard to hear

My ears never stopped ringing

But the birds kept on breath...

The world has both brightened and darkened

I hold onto the precious parts that keep me moving the sky seems ready to crash and still today, the song of the birds can be heard outside the window...

Do you remember holding each other as the birds sang sweet notes?

Do you miss watching them dance from the window like there was no more tension between you and I?

Could you feel when your touch became cold?

Or when hesitation drove me away? Dragging me by my ankles as I struggled to grab onto anything to keep me from leaving.

Eventually I stopped grasping onto walls or cracks in the floor b...