Mosaic

Picking up pieces
Where expectations derailed,
Only hope remains;
Creativity is not
Shattered but might go unclaimed.
Bring ideas forward
Watch growth always more, galore,
Light passion afire
Find missions with joy in store
Enrich lives, opening doors.
Willing hearts ready
To unlock minds diving deep
Words soon learned to speak
Musing over stories, sweet
Setting success to repeat.

Conveyance

Clamoring ashore
After rafting away on
The mud-riddled stream
Of a river hard lapping
At the seams, uncounted dreams.

Capturing belief,
An obstinant vocation –
Using wicked sieves
Made tender observations,
Leaves bound for future intrigues.

Language comes stumbling
Like a tired fugitive to light,
Pressing for freedom
A world gaining great delight;
Waters flood out with insight.

Hands reaching bloodied
Soft bathed by insistent tears,
Trundling through deep years
Where solace moments, slip past,
Drenched, shivering, home at last.

Home

Home is the hearth, heart, of all abundant things, which come with daily living. Where blessings shine on faces, dearer than the self. Time lingers just a while in passing, sufferings to lessen, teachings to impart, reminding no matter what has occurred, God is near.

Choosing a place to make a home is a painstaking task, a time-consuming selection. A feeling comes at the threshold, a sensation that angels are not far off and soon returning. Though work needed may be severe, still, joy fills the soul when into its home coming.

Home, here is only for a space, a time, for other shores are calling. One can find a bit of peace, but greater peace awaits upon seeing Jesus’ face. When Heaven’s gates open to admit a soul, then all the pleasure of home will overwhelm with multiplication. All the dissatisfactions of the world will cease, and perfect joy will be complete.

Past-Time

I heard
Someone
Say
You said our
Together was
Over,
Love had
Flown –
Tears filled
Up my eyes
Because
I was
The last
Come knowing.
A shadow
Over
The day
Just
Started
Growing
My heart
Paled, collapsed
You in
Your life
Kept going,
Lonely
Mine was
Destroying.
Still, sweet
Music plays
My heart
And soul
Forever
Taste
The words
To sing,
I writing
Will catch
Inklings –
Making
Fresh
Love
Melody
All things.

Prompt

This was written in fifteen lines, each five a tanka. I decided to bring it here, do some edits, and elongate it by making the lines short.

Your challenge, should you accept it is to take something you have written – do a sea-change with the form. This could be current work, a piece you laid aside, or even a found work from your own material. Try to hold the meaning or make it new. You are the creative engine. Blessings.