I listen to the sighing
of the wind, as I sit
in the cool shade
of a sprawling carob tree,
wondering if Basho,
in heavenly abode,
next to Elysian Fields,
is mumbling agitatedly
under his breath – possibly
grimaces, wrings his hands
as he flips the pages of
vain anthologies where
writers sell their wares…
Stuck in comfort zone
deprived of achievement,
wary of new horizons,
surprise ends and twists…
they cling to restrictions
and Mother Nature’s skirt.
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Pareidolia Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Craig Cornish
© 24th August 2020
Drowned out by the agitatedly silence
Praying for smooth ride without robbery and violence
Hidden insults, crooked meanings, rude and harsh words
Meaningless sounds created just to be heard
Tapestries on the back of blue and white bus seats like plastic scars
I only have to travel 8 stops that’s not to far
Gum wrappers, old candy, ear plugs, and unfinished homework littered the floor
I constantly hear the squeaky back doors
The red bus # 35 brakes
My balance shakes
The lady next to me asked, Mister where are you from?
Baltimore, my next reply Miss do you have enough room?
Some forceful usual pushing
Nearby drama and fussing
Why is that 7 year old cussing?
Overcrowded people rudely squeezing on their way to the back
Kids don’t even care to take off their knapsacks
It feels like I am the only person truly alive
I only have 19 minutes to survive
Finally my stop is next
I'm here that's the message I just texted
Obliged, to senses’ pleasure and to soul’s discontent,
I acknowledged all the appreciations,
I often look at the world around me.
They all appear same – puppets dancing on arrhythmic tunes.
Clones moulded by the system, machines lethargically pretending to sweat for goals.
Permanently busy nodding their way through, unsure of the purpose.
An intense cold war for a better materialistic living.
Fate of tames in the hands of hierarchy, with their laughter being echoed back to them.
And then far away in mountains, amidst a fog of smoke, i inspect myself,
indifferent and very much a part of this inanimate group,
verily afraid of being accustomed to uptown lifestyle.
Agitatedly, as this kindled fire turns into ashes,
I have tried to learn, hoping the dots will connect someday.
Little does my heart know and little does it seem to care!
RIPPLING STREAM
Like water slowly
But surely…
Flowing agitatedly
From up in the mountain slopes to the valleys
Settling in a ricefield paddy
Thus, setting agri-business happy
And worldwide in joy!
Like feelings mutually
However, carefully…
In a fertilized egg incubately but surely
The convalescingly makes life normally
Lusciously and deliciously stable
A second time around sounds compatively enjoyable.
The ripple
Now, no more murmurings
But, a rambling…
Streams ever reverberating
Loudly caressing and embracing
Of luteous colors accentuating
A masterpiece of abstract to a mural!
Dalila Agtani
6/4/2011