A cold November wind blows through the leaves
that chills the mighty oak trees to their bark;
and in the shiver that the wind-wave weaves,
a single leaf’s left swirling in the dark.
Upon the ground this crimson leaf alights
among the other leaves that settled down;
all fallen from their limbs of lofty heights,
and slowly does their beauty turn to brown.
While once she thrived in youth upon her branch,
she now knows sadly that her days are spent.
And grieving for this leaf’s now faded chance,
this aging poet too must give assent.
Whereas the forest and the world consort,
both leaves and poet’s lives are measured short.
I gave my heart and soul to You
receive a faith I never knew
I came to You with a troubled mind
received Your grace merciful and kind
always and forever You will be
the one true God just for me
as long as I dwell in Your Holy domain
my love for You will never change
and when I feel lost I start to pray
knowing You'll guide me on my way
always and forever You will be
the one true God just for me
I submit to God in totality.
I surrender to God all that's in me
I acquiesce to God without protest
I assent to His authority for its me He's blessed
always and forever God
You will be
the guarding light by which I see
I worship You I praise Your Holy name
Your sovereignty I proudly proclaim
always and forever You will be
the one true God just for me
and as long as I dwell in Your Holy domain
my love for you will never change
always and forever You will be
the one true God just for me
always and forever You will be
my saving grace my sanctuary.
always and forever You will be
the one true God just for me
Free formed American letters
Aisled constitution
Assent
Report
Confer
Signature of alphabet.
Legislation
Derivative of signatures
Posthaste
Carriage
Distribution of wages
Post War Conference
Numerical Assignments concur
Exchange of freedom
Mandated registration for return
Postmaster
Post mastered
Door frame
Hearth
Circulation of the times
Of America
Objective as Coordinate
.
yesss
'tiz 'bout
her
hern
herz
'mostly
yet
yessss
Yahweh
Y
Yeshua
yelp
i
love humours dissent according assent ~
yet soul ascends on granting love consent
pure intent of heart paves way for ascent ~
provided mind yields, granting love assent
persnickety aunts probably authored private annuals
providing all plebes and prospects a polite answer
allowing provocative avid public a peek
at potential artistic playgrounds amid positive attitudes
plentiful alluring prancing and allegiance provided
amid persnickety aunts pleasing astronomical prospects
allegedly pleasant as polite aunties possibly assent
plebes always providing appreciative provocative audience
There’s a sadness in the river
That well the river knows
Which sounds beneath the surface
And goes where rivers go
Murmuring in mute assent
Its current status quo –
It’s the silent hush of summer
Borne long, too long for men
Who know the season’s solstice
Like candles in the wind
Will flicker in the fairest breeze
Will flutter and will end –
It’s the mournful moan of winter
That knows the cold of stones
A universal sound that weeps
With seeds that have been sown
Going where the river goes
In tears it cries alone –
I prefer the myths to the dry histories, where truths come and then crumble away,
For history is written with a quill of feathers, but the myth, eternal, beats with wings of iron.
Mythology dresses lies in dazzling robes that over time are clothed in truth,
And it gives birth to a wisdom that time can shape as the river shapes the stone.
Intelligence, deaf and blind, listens only to defy or to nod in assent,
Thus the message, like a drifting ship, is lost on misunderstood seas.
Instead of welcoming the word as a guest to the tables of meditation, it would tear down the messenger,
And we, mortals learned, have lost the art of sitting with the message, of cherishing the story.
The fault, it is said, lies in the arms of that education which molds us into valiant soldiers of certainty,
Not into wise seekers of questions, of meanings hidden in the folds of the everlasting myth.
Our world stubbornly struggles to tear the thick paper of deep understandings,
Poisoning us with dogmas, forgetting in the procession of days that all which was once a lie may bloom as the apple of new knowledge.
In my kitchen's grasp, where spices hop free,
Whispers of our memories, in each recipe.
Khichdi's humble grace, a bow to our roots,
In grains and lentils, tradition assent.
Herbal notes linger, a fragrant ballet, a scenic design.
As generations gather, in love's display.
Grandma's hands, a harmony of care,
Amma's gentle touch, flavors rare.
Papadums bloat, tales of old flames,
In every fold, history takes flight.
Black tea's warmth, with Tulsi's caress,
A sip of time, warm embrace.
Amma's pickle, a tangy delight,
Mingling with Khichdi, in consonance light.
Handpicked mangoes, memories unfold,
A dab of pickle, a story retold.
The Great Indian Kitchen's embrace, ceaseless love
Animating vibrance of heart,
we feel then bliss ignition start,
doing nothing, we are present,
granting magnetism our assent.
Who said living is not an art?
When from a pure heart, arises intent,
ripples divine manifest a new fate
and the universe too grants its assent,
because it’s sacrilege to make love wait.
There being no separation from source,
when pristine presence operates from heart,
emotes of love gentle, employ no force,
yet enables bliss ignition to start.
The breath of God that enlivens our form,
received in fullness by the child in us,
is felt in the heart as magnetism warm,
whereupon narrow doubts cease to nonplus.
Moment to moment as we shape ourself,
music of the spheres plays on by itself.
Should I smile, should I cry
I really need to be their ally
What would they like the most
How to get in and be in the "bros"
I am scared they might get upset
What if they didn't like a word I said
Would they approve off this hair and clothes
Or am I about to become a laughing stock
Though I came to the kitchen first
But they want to be the first to quench their thirst
So I will stand by the counter in silence and wait
For all I want is to be at peace and avoid debate
I wish to stop acting dumb and bound
To be the one with a view and mind
To break the shackles of people's assent
But the mind is too in swamp to get out
In the shadow of death, his darkest secrets hide,
A devil’s bargain, where foul hidden dangers lie.
His vile whisper in the night, a most sinister plea,
Temptation’s dance calling, “Come waltz with me!”
His eyes as black as coal, with his sly, wicked grin,
The devil beckons you close; then he lures you in.
A Faustian deal to strike, with willing souls to sell,
For abundance of power, and untold riches as well.
O mortal hearts, O please heed all these warnings,
The devil’s deals are so hard, even for his darlings.
For momentary wealth, fleeting powers, and fame,
You trade your eternal soul, for perpetual flames.
The cost is too high, forever too long, fire too severe,
Weeping, gnashing of teeth, while you writhe in fear.
A devil’s bargain, the broadest primrose path of sin,
It will leave you with nothing, save darkness within.
So forbear the appeal, of the devil’s treacherous deeds,
But choose God’s light instead, if your soul is in need.
Take some advice, sage words from this wannabe poet,
A devil’s bargain lures assent, before you even know it.
Humani mendacity
Foul water still and staining
A bowl full of silence
A firming maybe.? Assent?
No approbation.? No Dishonour
Validation yet; no walking out..'
Hard heads no holds; denied'
Kinship bloodless calls
Turn to denial? big up acedemia '
Life and death yes or no
Ignore and prance no tune needed
Vile in a vial, so share that sludge.!
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