6 AM. Poetry by Chriselda Barretto – Fated Divine

Fated Divine

The eye of the needle turns on by
Dissecting every pore of time, an uneven try
Feel that pinch, meant for sinners of your kind
Relinquish those fears for freedom awaits…
Crashing away dreadful, hidden generational binds!

………..


Healed are we? Somehow broken free?
Raise those dreams on high as branches on trees
Every leaf carrying a ray of light, drops of bright sunshine
Healthy aspirations building, eliminating past, cursed crimes
Step into your kingdom, your fated divine!


A poem by ©Chriselda Barretto


Digital Art by Chriselda Barretto

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6 AM. Micro-Poetry by Chriselda Barretto

Creation

Pray my hands keep on doing

All that was meant for me to do

Moving constantly in dire need to heed my cues.

———-

With every breath I take

A new creation, spontaneous in the make.

———-

See them now my ultimate works

Be it in a poem, a trinket, an artistic sketch

All with my undivided attention, these my talented perks!


A micropoem by ©Chriselda Barretto


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6 AM. Micro-Poetry by Chriselda Barretto

Spontaneous

Think you know me
Stand back… Stand back
For it’s something even new for me to see
Precious spontaneity hidden in my every seam
Discovering more, bit by bit, a delicious rolling spree
Enjoy it then, as much as you can
Whilst I get brighter, doing just my thing, I lend and foresee!


A micropoem by ©Chriselda Barretto


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6 AM. Micro-Poetry by Chriselda Barretto

How deep is deep?

Wells of knowledge in your eyes

Deeply surrendering, melting that ice

Inhibitions torn apart, no need to ire

Smartness slaps through on a vengeful echo

Graceful and divine like a cloud on fire

See it blossoming now, for the extravagant show!


A micropoem by ©Chriselda Barretto


NEW…NEW… LINKS BY CHRISELDA B

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6 am Poetry

Forgiveness

Drops of water sliding down my hand

Lines of age running down my palm

Mingling thoughts of joy and pain

Where did they go to,

all my years, those since I was born?


Tears welling up into my eyes

The pain I caused, the hurt I initiated

Was it retaliation, ego or just my pride?


Did I seek forgiveness, or did it not matter?

For I was the king of my very own parlour!


Here we are then, at the road’s end

Shouting out loud, but nobody hears

For I am too weak to even speak!


One last sigh then, one last try…

If it’s all the strength I have in me

Hear me whisper out like a lashing sea

“Please, please forgive me…”


A poem by Chriselda Barretto

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