Wait for me when I get back,
just wait for me…
I rub my weary eyes, as I write this
hoping you’ll understand,
hoping you’ll take our memories with you
as we travel on different roads
until that day comes
when I find that path
that leads me back to you…
I was forced on this journey, and so were you.
Neither of us wanted this, but maybe this is what we need.
Now I truly am lost, and my eyes wander off…
Everything’s a blur now, and I grasp at cotton candy clouds
sugar crystals sticking on my warm fingers, and that is all.
Like lone wolves in the night
you and I….
that through the darkness
we still hunger for justice
and for truth in all things
We want harmony
To find ourselves
at peace…..as one within….
Capture the green
Feel it swirl and beckon
Verdant and healing
Absolution from the guilt
and from the memories
Release and breathe
Let it flow……
Yes, you and I are connected
Through the regret and remorse
We search and we find light
On a path to illumination
for teaching and learning
Love……pure and true
Acceptance of self
results in balance
Being at one with Gaia
(and her precious gifts)
Achieving planetary consciousness
Us…..we have found
true ability to connect
to the soul of another
True augmentation of self
A home in the higher dimensions
A place that is safe to sleep
Let us dance, my love
My lone wolf…
Let us connect through spirit
(We have shed the black)
Be mine in all things
Forever and always
You are my HEART
I gave you a balloon,
It held my life inside.
Within a shiny rubber tube
components of my soul aligned,
I became something new
a tickle upon my breath,
a tiny bubble
of nuanced personality;
The strengths of me debrided
the secrets of my lungs,
pink and untold
for you to confide,
in eyes before me.
were you astute?
Could your mind compute
of the beautiful find
floating before you?
my unique particles ended
their show of strength
broken in length;
crushed and divided
my dreams subsided...
Molded to an unrecognizable form,
I became your norm.
Though you never knew,
my secret hope to survive
my own gift
thrive and lift,
lay within you.
Your grip thirsted control so long,
the pieces of me left burst
to skitter away in song
among soaring clouds,
leaving shrouds of pain
grounded and gone...
Flying far from the land
one beautiful day,
and the broken balloon that laid
in your hand.
Snow steeped in mountains and mountains steeped in snow
Evergreens and pine trees hold the earth with purpose
Nurse Anne steps into hospital from brutal winter cold
Measures stethoscopes and takes gentle pulses
Takes care of bullet wounds and children on her rounds
Wears white, green or blue uniforms or gowns while working
That’s pure speculation as you know
Nurse Anne is not a lawyer according to close sources
She writes poetry on line, refines them in her leisure time
Her prescription for good health and life is simple
Eat vegetables, fishes and less meat
Most importantly, Breath, (it helps a lot)
Take moderation in everything
Get plenty of rest and sleep
And if you can’t be intelligent or stay on your toes
At least stay on your feet
Naturally a life spent vertically is not advised
Nurse Anne wants us all to exercise
She will help you to get by and back to skiing
With her good guidance and by being wise
She does her noble work then travels home
Returns to evening
To writing poems at her own leisure
It afflicts king and queen alike.
Brought to the castle
by the master of infildelity.
He moves smoothly from one to the other.
He swiftly takes them
as is his right, he believes.
Only to have his fill
from the fair maiden
to the sullied trollop.
He sees them all equally
in his adventures.
He spreads his curse
from one to the other.
It robs it's victims
of their eyes and senses.
Over the years, it slowly degrades
their intelligence and lives.
It can bring down the greatest Empires
if given enough time.
The night is cold, awaiting the early light of dawn
My body shivers, my feet like ice, I long for sleep but it does not come
Like so many lonely hours in the darkness
The ache of my bones so cruel and relentless
Tears on my pillow, I once again slip from the warm covers
Leaving the placid breath beside me, never knowing I’ve gone
I would give so much to have the peace of slumber
The chance to dream of an earlier life, one that is gone now
Where I danced with the clouds on a warm spring day
Ran in the woods chasing butterflies or a humming bird
The gentle breeze brushing against my skin
My soul free to be who I am, without the pain of this withering shell
Some nights I long for an end to this misery
Life has dealt such a difficult challenge
But more often, I sit in the dim light of the morning
Remembering my youth and the freedom that it gave
How I laughed in its face, knowing I would always be young
That I would always be ready to take on the world unencumbered
How naïve…and how unappreciative of the wonders of my youthful body
Pushing the limits of this fragile home to my soul, never fearing an end to my
But the dawn comes, and I bravely go on to face another day
Determined to make it the best possible
Although this life, even with it’s wicked edge, so unexpected
Arrived before I was ready to give up my wonderful dance of freedom
I rub my twisted joints, warming them near the fire
Knowing that, even through the pain there is hope
For my mind is sharp, my wit is clever
And I may yet find joys in the brightness and warmth of this new sun
For I can still hear the birds sing their happy tunes
Watch the grandchildren’s innocent play, their melodic giggles of joy
And remember how it was not so long ago…
And how I danced!
I’m losing my mind in a hurry!
Maybe, maybe, losing the mind is letting it find itself
or maybe, i'm just crazy
I keep running with anticipation, with heart open and judgment closed
[I discover most superbly this way]
Foolishly Dropping it, hoping that it’ll pick up something useful
On sidewalks, books, table-top salty discussions,
Sometimes in filth letting it pervade the crevices
And when I tidy it, sometimes
It doesn’t all come out, but I try my best
Ever so often, after a new dish soap and scrubbing gloves
it comes out cleaner then it ever was,
With spicy remains of the crude yet true substances
Chunks fall out where the glue of stability erodes
I know that I am fond of it this way
So I can put them back together
With my own fingers
Organized C H A O S
Instead of the media’s, my peers, my parents, piloting
The pivotal pieces
I let them descend tenderly into location
In my own decimal code
I constitute the regulations here
This belongs to me, my only
It doesn’t matter to me if life doesn’t flow
If it’s jagged or slow, here
I don’t care
If insanity is the real sanity
Or that distinctive is incorrect
This is my society and I shape it as I please
Seeing as it only affects me
As long as my mind is
In flurries of expansion
I don’t really care if it’s lost at all
Pink- Pink- Pink-
Every peak has its own attractions,
Like the mountains,
The mounts of a woman,
Have always remained,
Her pride possessions. 01
It has the charms,
More intoxicating than wine,
As it reveals the beauty,
Of a woman's alluring binds. 02
These mounts gives,
The wings of imagination and colors,
In the mind of an artist,
And they arise the passion,
In lovers mind.03
Their rise and fall,
Has shaken great empires,
Under their cool and peaceful shade,
The dreams of a child form shapes. 04
Its serenity has given birth,
To most pious and holy figures on Earth,
And their warmth have shaped the dreams,
Of many powerful kingdoms on Earth.05
They feed life giving milk,
To every new born light,
Every time they laugh and cry,
These lofty mounts,
Help in forming shapes,
When the child begins its story. 06
But these pride possessions,
Of a woman,
These lofty inspirations,
Of Poets, Writers and Artists,
These magical charms
Which often become more attractive,
Than the face of a woman,
A wide spread pollution,*
Which is the unwanted gift of
Modern living and
They are also the gifts,
Of worst living habits,
Adopted by thousands,
and millions of woman,
As they fall prey,
Before the charms,
And shows of modern generation. 07
Many such wonderful women,
Who are in the grip of this pollution,*
Have brought this curse on them,
Of their own follies and errors. 08
Many such suffering women,
Can really get rid of,
From the curse of this pollution,*
If only they can show,
The courage to adopt,
The natural way,
Of living and breathing,
Possible under the boon like shade,
Of real Yoga. 09
Of the distortions,*
Of their pink pink ribbons,
Are mainly the results,
Of their own creations,
And these results,
Are not something,
One should blame,
The destiny or God every time. 10
Some of the serious reasons are,
Not caring rightly,
For one’s own pride possessions,
And the lack of,
A cool and calm mind,
From morning till night,
All the junk foods and wine. 11
Beyond all time limits,
your peaceful mind. 12
Running and more running
To catch others,
So that you may not leg behind. 13
And madly crying,
For more and more wealth,
Even if you have sufficient,
For your life time. 14
Are the reasons,
Which invite the pollution,*
To sow its rotten seeds,
The enchanting valley,
Amid the mounts of,
Pink pink flowers. 15
Can still be derived out,
With the little practice of Yoga,
But it remains untouched,
And unsung about,
By most of the modern women. 16
These otherwise elegant women,
Regularly face the problems,
Lack of peace,
And sound sleep.
Which ultimately take away,
And coolness of mind,
Resulting in strengthening more,
The un sprouted seeds of pollution.* 17
Still it is not too late,
If they can only change,
Their life styles,
Their eating and drinking habits,
And adopt from today,
The way of natural living,
The boon like Yoga. 18
As the practice of Yoga,
Not only add years to your life,
But life to your years, as well. 19
Kanpur India 15th Nov. 2012
*Pollution- The other name of Cancer.
Those who want to share their views on My above Poem may
write to me on my yahoo mail id: email@example.com I
would welcome your brief comments and if possible I will reply
you. Thanking you in anticipation. Ravindra K Kapoor
Inspired by Poet Destroyer I am dedicating this Poem to all those women of the world, who are facing any such problem of Pollution* And to those also who are not facing it, so that their life my feel the joy of living under the blessings of Yoga.
TO OVERCOME OR TO TAKE PRECAUTION ON THIS PROBLEM UP TO SOME EXTENT- ONE CAN START WITH ANY ONE OR TWO OR THREE OR ALL FIVE OF THE SIMPLE YOGA EXERCISES I HAVE GIVEN IN MY ‘YOGA IN POEM’ SERIES 1 TO 5 ON POETRY SOUP IT- SELF. YOUR COMMENTS WOULD BE HIGHLY APPRECIATED. http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=490745
IMPORTANT NOTE: The best effects of Yoga can only be obtained if it includes the main exercises of essential ‘PRANAYAMA’ otherwise it wouldn’t yield the desired results and PRANYAM should be learn properly first. Ravindra K Kapoor
He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died,
he has not been the same.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it,
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain,
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best,
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows
what happens next.
All results of
I suck at dying poems
Chemo poems, Metastatic Cancer poems,
Hair falling out in the shower poems
And I told a half truth
When I told you I could write you one
In less than six months (It's been eight)
I apologize for being so late
I wanted your poem to be pink and graceful
Like those ribbons
I see all over the internet
Filled with cheesy generic rhymes
That read like a Hallmark audition
But already my metaphors are melting
And my similes are getting soft
I guarantee you the rhyme meter will be off
When I went to Google
And the typed in the word 'happy'
Three billion links came up
Not a single inference to
Breast cancer, hair loss
No redirects to mastectomies
Yahoo wasn't any kinder
The only thing research could teach me
Is that a good day on chemo
Is when your stool doesn't come out tar Black
And has no blood in it
Or when your urine
Smells better on Wednesday
Than it did on Tuesday
Sleeping less than 12 hours
When 24 would be better
America has more poets
Than it does alcoholics
And Pot smokers combined
And you chose me to be
Your Breast Cancer
Trusting me to write a poem
About the biggest battle in your life
So I refuse to finish this poem
Without something bright and hopeful
And don't think
I didn't notice your Facebook activity
Had decreased by 88%
In the last three months
And you aren't really
Coming to any more of my poetry shows
Ever again. Are you??
But we still have March, April
But even if you had one breast
Or no breast
Or if you had less hair than I do
I promise to look only in your eyes
And never ever even notice
Or even think about it
And never for a moment
Would I feel sorry for you
Yes I suck at lying too...
But I don't suck at loving you
Or at hoping you wake up tomorrow morning
With no Cancer at all
And that The Eiffel Tower will be right outside
Your bedroom window...
And I would be right there with you
Holding your hand while we look down on Paris
And you can impress me with your French again
And if I ever make it
To the Pulitzer Poetry board
I might lose a thousand points
Just for this poem alone
And my hopes for the prize will be smitten
And some old person
With white hair will say
That was the worst love poem ever written