Simply poetic yet ill-defined
The gassed up Hemi amply drives
Concrete and to the point
The cherub is anoint
Like grabbing stars from demission
Here in front of me.
Beautiful art is amply found in nature.
Slow down to notice & appreciate.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2026
Breakfast bells ring
In my stomach and
I go downstairs in the
Room where deliciousness
Resides with care and love—
Kitchen,
I stumble slowly
Sinking the moment all in
I take every step
Tap
Tap
Tap
I'm downstairs
My fingers wrapping
Affectionately around
My coffee mug
Which is also my mate,
Coffee, I pour from the french press,
And it goes like a spiral
Down in the mug as a whirlwind.
And then it goes gently down my throat
When I kiss my mellow mug mindfully.
Then my toast jumps out of the toaster
Like an acrobat,
Acutely lays on the placid plate
Waiting for me to reward it
With strawberries, cherries,
Or balmy butter or merry mulberries,
Or sometimes just like Winnie
I eat it with humble honey.
Afterwards, the backyard awaits me,
I amble amply,
Scatter some bread for my buddies—
Birds and squirrels,
While the wind greets me,
And they all gather round
When I read my poems,
Keeping them spellbound.
In the unpretentious backyard
Of my house— not a home,
Bloomed a bird's nest
Concealed concernedly
In the benevolent branches
Of the dear aged tremulous tree.
When I noticed the nest nearly,
House felt like a home dearly,
I noticed the humble hatching
Of the birds—
Life lustrously levitating
Out of a shattering shell
Of an emaciated egg.
How gentle squeaks
Filled the surroundings
Slowly and sincerely,
My heart hissing
Gratitude for great glory.
Now, they are a week old,
Surely, soon, they will fill
Their wings with their
First flight
From my backyard
Amply, they'll be gone long
And I'll still be a basic bard
While they'll be reaching
The racing clouds.
I know not the name,
I know not their kind,
I tried searching,
But I couldn't find
The name of the birds
That are taking shelter
And bedazzling
My rudimentary backyard.
How artistically
Nature wonderfully works—
Blooming and dying,
Escalations and sorrows,
Falling and flying,
Yesterdays and morrows.
Perception is alluding or even amply deceptive,
people may seem very strange and so delusive
in the interaction with sophisticated society:
where the norm is to display intellectuality
in the way they dress, the way they speak;
God help them when personal secrets leak,
will they expose their unflinching character?
I suggest all remain true to their valued ideals,
and despite the possible derision from peers
not brought up with a strict criteria of morals,
it won't make anyone feel less than an individual:
who has made an effort to stand out from all?
Figure out who'll be enraged and criticized!
Consider the fragility of spirit not reassured by self-worth,
but firmly strengthened by strong temptation and want;
the accumulation of riches without the value they impart,
pile up mountains of it only to show their immense wealth!
One of the richest men that ever existed pondered upon this,
hoping that his chosen heirs would be shrewd and not squander it
for some wits, but managed it wisely remembering his many sacrifices:
would they honor it with the certainty, not with the fear it wouldn't last?
Everything said, everything thought and done
is stored in the subconsciousness of a memorable tune;
a whole life was spent in search of gratification,
of that sweetheart to convert this restless dreamer
to love, to show his amorous and changeless affection
in ways that eloquently expressed the exquisite art of lover!
Does love surpass all miracles doubtingly conceived
in the credulous mind, expecting thrills and kisses
in form of heavenly bliss, or a fulfillment of greed?
The wisher of resonant allusions was entirely convinced
to succeed with his cunning by offering petty gifts
to entrap the feeblest heart used to sweet whispers!
Who loves the drama of a tragic end in any somber narrative?
Of course, the joker with a hilarious and derisive laughter!
Does he care that what he says is no offense to provoke anger
in the jeering crowd that mocks him for being insensitive?
My honor was fairly, amply given and adamantly received,
I have left no murmuring lips in suspense; dear Heaven: my honesty
wasn't derided but perceived well and sealed in their endeared memory!
Precious inamorata, love surpasses all miracles as mine did!
Who Will Read the Book? The Honeyjumper said.
I had no idea, for I was trying to pretend I was dead.
I will read it said Grandpa, whose face had turned red.
He was not the best reader, but he was amply fed.
Just bring me a box of matches and some pretty blue thread
I had no idea what was in the mind of my creative cousin Ned
He whipped up a climbing ladder, and stuck it near the bread
We went right up in a few minutes, and were amply fed.
A book of verses underneath the bough,
A jug of wine, a loaf of bread—and thou
Beside me singing in the wilderness—
Oh, wilderness were paradise enow.
(Omar Khayyam’s (1048-1131 CE) well-known quatrain (Rubai). Its translation was done by Fitzgerald as above. Now look at the following translation done by me of a Gujarati Muktak by Somsundar Soori (Vikram Samwat 1430-1499, older by about 54 years as compared to CE)).
Nature’s drape of cool sunny sand,
Sunshade of green trees, time in hand,
And buttermilk amply supplied,
Pray, what more would paradise lend?
________________________________
Reflections |22.08.2023| quatrain, poetry
Poet’s note: Both the foregoing quatrains have similar poetic thought. Does it mean that poet Soori copied the thought from Khayyam, who happened earlier? No, similar thoughts do sometimes strike poets.
The Constellations, intricate designs,
Displayed across the sky,
Truly show intelligence,
And a practiced eye.
Not just scattered randomly,
But very carefully balanced,
Forming systems all their own,
Not happening by chance.
Extreme precision, mathematics,
Portend another being,
Enormous power to create,
A solar system teeming,
With life and beauty everywhere.
Nature at it's best,
Proves to us that God exists,
And that we're amply blessed.
When my dreams are amply fulfilled,
with love and riches, I desired,
destiny stared, fate hid nearby,
Don't judge your fate by destiny
Happily, met my beloved,
Willingly played the loving deed,
No credit for fate, destiny?
Don't judge your fate by destiny
Saddened with the sorrows of life,
Broken heart with dreams in tussle,
Rise like phoenix, spare destiny,
Don't judge your fate by destiny
Destiny don't shape our future outcomes,
we make it by our deeds and actions,
Distrust fate, shape your own destiny,
Don't judge your fate by destiny
Zen peace and whisk sway;
Coaxing buds to smile,
Husks flap in phlox way.
Diamonds scheme flowers;
Springing whiff for miles,
Bright sunshine for hours.
Stunning shape design;
Charming bystander,
The breeze smells divine.
Shrewd tricks are unknown;
A glowing bloom gift,
This is amply shown.
Diamonds shine and gleam;
A sound tied to awe,
Breathtaking pure dream.
A prize rapt when found;
With love, the world pound.
5 syllables/line
Written: June 08, 2023
TAKE A CHANCE ON A CHANSO Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kim Rodrigues
Who made red panda Robin Hood? My cousin asked.
No idea, but go along with it if you can, I replied.
His hat is feathered, and he is amply flasked.
And he is walking the path, now coming inside.
Hello fair Robin Hood, my cousin said quickly.
His words turned upbeat lickety-split-ly.
I laughed at my cousin, who is afraid of this creature.
But invites him to stay over to watch a double feature.
Why did you do that? I whisper as Robin robs us.
It is irritating to me, as he steals my parakeet, Gus.
I was terrified, my cousin says, I did not know what to say.
That is no big deal for my cousin, actually, a typical day.
Shh! Babies are sleeping Dorie said.
Slumbering in dreamland with her Uncle Fred
Tummies full of dolly potatoes, they are amply fed
Especially after gulping down cinnamon bread
Two dreaming of a trip on an African bobsled
Cozily cuddled up in a rocking chair bed.
One baby dolly in a nightshirt made by Grandpa Ed.
All three in dreamland where only angels tread.
In the rhythm of the rolling tide of time I float
in the amorous ambiance of the setting sun.
Before the ebb takes me beyond the horizon,
I search for the anchorage in the fervent shore.
Through the suffusing shower of twilight shimmer,
amply allured, I follow your lengthening shadow,
melting in mystique night in mellow moonshine,
stardust spark lights up my dark alley of dream.
The new sun returns with color-burst fresco,
sprinkles spectral hue on dainty drops of dew.
In my malachite meadow no longer morose, I find you,
sparkling like pearl with the patina of pristine fervor.
At the periphery of my lonesome lingering time,
colors spread on blue, my enticed senses don’t belie,
haze lifts from dawning day, I see my relocated tomorrow
in the smile on your face and in the glitter of your eye.
_______________
October 23, 2022
Contest : A Brian Strand Premiere Choice
Sponsored by : Brian Strand
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