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Attachment by wadley, kewayne
attachment by talwar, bawa
detached attachment by Osho, Francis
Insecure Attachment by Roper, Eve
Attachment by Yusoff, Fariq
detached attachment-oshontic verse 2 by Osho, Francis
Attachment by Brown, Wendell
Haiku on Attachment by Musaddeq, Ashraful
Crazy Attachment by Love, Christy
The Attachment Is Gone by Taylor, Kay'Sha

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Famous Last Line

India (Original Poem)

I hear much joy in the music,
View elation in the dance
Feel happiness in the laughter,
Soulful spirit in poetic romance.

I feel love in the language
Swelling in my heart.
Reverence for God and Goddess
In beloved families far apart.

I love the customs and the people
As they celebrate each day
Living life to the fullest
In their honor I wish to pray

That I may learn to be as humble
As loving and as kind,
To be blessed by elder wisdom
In every senior that I find.

This is a gift to give my children
To open their sleepy little eyes.
To see the value in rejoicing,
To reach for stars up in the skies.

When they learn this knowledge 
To listen well to the sages,
They will know of sacred secrets
Handed down through the ages.



India (New Poem)

Handed down through the ages,
India's Gods and Goddesses call
Out to me from sacred places.

I want to bathe in Ganges waters,
Be there when monsoons arrive,
View Holi's colors on happy faces.

I wish to absorb all the beauty,
Mix with all the friendly people
And sing in celebration's song.

I want to enjoy the festive music
And watch the dancers dancing,
I wish to truly feel that I belong.

I'd revere every God and Goddess,
Have respect for all Gods I know not.
I'd love to learn of Ganesha's power.

I want to meditate in floral gardens
Contemplate by reflective pools...
Connect my spirit to the Lotus flower.

I would take my small camera with me
And shoot all the sights and sounds,
Share my heart with natives blissfully.

I'd love to share in children's laughter.
Share my thoughts and culture too.
I'd treasure my time in India eternally.

Famous Last Line
March 9, 2016

Holi:
Holi, the Festival of Colors. Holi is celebrated as a welcoming of Spring, and a celebration of the triumph of good over evil. What that translates to in action is an enthusiastic dropping of inhibitions, as people chase each other and playfully splash colorful paint, powder and water on each other. People also attend bonfires to commemorate the story of Prahlada.

Ganges:
Hindus consider the waters of the Ganga to be both pure and purifying. Nothing reclaims order from disorder more than the waters of the Ganga. Moving water, as in a river, is considered purifying in Hindu culture because it is thought to both absorb impurities and take them away. What the Ganga removes, however, is not necessarily physical dirt, but symbolic dirt; it wipes away the sins of the bather, not just of the present, but of a lifetime.

Ganesha:
He is the Lord of success and destroyer of evils and obstacles. He is also worshipped as the god of education, knowledge, wisdom and wealth. In fact, Ganesha is one of the five prime Hindu deities (Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva and Durga being the other four) whose idolatry is glorified as thepanchayatana puja.

Lotus Flower:
The Lotus, the national flower of India, is a symbol of supreme reality. Hindu religion and mythology portray goddess Saraswathi, the muse of learning, as being seated on a lotus flower. To the Indian psyche, the lotus is more than a flower – it represents both beauty and non-attachment. There is a saying that although it grows in mud, it smells of myrrh. Toru Dutt in her sonnet “The Lotus” addresses the flower as the “queenliest flower that blows.”


Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2016


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No free lunch

A scientist pursuing research—
with disinterested curiosity,
Poets distancing themselves—
from personal emotions,
from ‘personality’ (in Eliot’s idiolect),
A sportsperson focusing on the event—
not obsessed with results,
demonstrating sporting spirit,
Anyone doing their karma—
regardless of results,
as characterized in Indian scriptures,
notably the Gita—
All these are instances of detachment—
Of varying degrees
And of course in various domains.
Thus, they all fit into a paradigm.

The old order changeth, yielding place to new!
There was a paradigm shift in the globe—
A mutation.
Detachment suddenly changed
To (greedy) Attachment—to profit.
And the Rat Race started.

It originated in Keiser’s pre-War Germany.
Chemical industry sponsored Academic programmes.
Welcome!
But chemical weapons were piling up.
Oh, what a pity!
And war seemed to be the only solution—
To dispose of the weapons.
Dreadful!
No free lunch!

A weak Kaiser yielded.
Germany plunged into war—
A development not dissimilar
To the piling up of warheads in the US,
Leading to the Gulf War.
Germany lost.
Kaiser abdicated and fled.
Now, a broken Germany
Had to launch another war,
To salvage its economy—
With far more disastrous consequences this time.
The Fatherland broke down.
Führer killed himself.
Germany was broken in two.


But the new paradigm continued to work—
Spread globally.
The world came to be governed
By corporate concerns,
T&C. 
No free lunch!

The rat race continued
And still continues,
At breakneck speed,
Between the two Geopolitical Blocs,
Between members of the same Bloc!
What about ideology, then?
No problem.
No free lunch!

The paradigm shift means
Commodification, Cutthroat competition,
Aggressive marketing, Subliminal appeal,
Throwaway mode,
Exploitation of labour.
What about ideology, then?
No problem.
No free lunch!

Benjamin Bloom came.
Outcome-Based Education
Displaced Liberal education
Academies gave up Engineering,
Offered Technology.
Research was all geared to
A noble, commercial purpose.
The world became a Workers’ Paradise,
(in Tagore’s idiom).
Exploitation of labour?
Will go on.
No free lunch!

Fundamental Research?
Who cares?
But what about values?
‘Politically correct’ language, please.
No free lunch!

Writers?
Of late busy with contests—of course.
And write only for prize money!
The muses or Sarasvati?
No superstitions, please.
No free lunch!

Sportspersons?
All on the market,
Waiting to be bought off 
Or already auctioned.
Can’t help it.
Sponsor-pressure.
No free lunch!

And sporting spirit?
What do you mean?
Current English, please!
No free lunch!

And what about detachment?
Why, are you a Buddha?
A Charlie Chaplin?
A Tithonus?
A Rip Van Winkle or an ET?
Google Postmodernism and Kali Yuga
And find out.
Read rags and update.
Or you’ll be detached.
No free lunch!

Om, shantih, shantih, shantih!






Copyright © Ram R. V. | Year Posted 2017


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Cloud Weavers

Little child
Your tiny hands hold a little flower
Delicately, you start weaving a story about peace
In your gentleness, you understand how happiness works
It is the sanctuary of warm softness in the heart
Free of all clouds and stormy weather
 
Little feet
You walk on soft white sand
Eagerly, you pull yourself up after each fall
In your curiosity, you discover what makes you happy
It is the freedom of making your own choices
Unconstrained by necessity or fate
 
Little heart
You embrace everyone without judging
Innocently, you follow the impulse of your instinct
In your imagination, you build the foundation of harmony
It is the pillar of mutual acceptance
Co-existing with different beliefs
 
Now, a grown young man
Your hands are no longer soft and delicate
In your journey, you learn how betrayal works
Painfully, you slip and fall each time
It is the feeling of deep hurt in the heart
That pushes you forward
 
Now, a capable man
You walk on a long winding path
In your trial and error, you finally grasp the true nature of humans
Disappointedly, you sigh at the people who create war
And those who instill hatred in today's youth
It is the sense of rightness that moves you
 
Now, a man of experience
You let your thoughts flow upon paper
Dipped in the ink of blood, words continue to flourish
Seamlessly, you integrate your enchanting imagery
With the blessings of God's living water
You paint a ladder of inspirations reaching the horizons
 
Seeds of the new generation
They are dreaming of a better future
Far from the opening chambers of blind heartaches
Those who drowned in the darkness of their moonshine spirits
Burning sinners and hypocrites
Drunken smartass slurring in a poetic oxymoron slang
 
Evil minds
Your eyes grin when you take away lives
It is the cold heartless stare that you exude
Until your victims' breaths leave their bodies
The demons in you rejoice in your attachment to them
Your souls are no longer your own
 
Unfilled vessels
The windows of your souls are sealed off
You have fenced yourself in to keep out the goodness
Spitting in Love's face, you bow to your Demon God
It is the hatred that you cling onto
When you weave long threads of recorded bad memories
 
Unforgiving gale
It approaches with a full force
Floors tremble and vibrate
When the houses break, it will be swift and inevitable
It is an unstoppable vortex of good and evil
A battle of hurling vile obscenities
 
Demon possessed
You will curse everything holy swearing lies
Sweet talking arrogance with no bounds
Under a thousand points of light
So blind becomes the beggars vision of a predator
Rattling through the cages of time
 
Death holds a beating pulse
Harsher than physical wounds exposed
Pain burns the poker scorching hot inside empty skulls
They curl their tongues in mockery of life
Cultivating a culture of takers and pranksters
Givers are now doomed and deemed foolish
 
Where do we go from here?
Stuck in past mindsets, the old must find a way
To break the mold and make peace
The young and new blood should never give up
On peaceful tolerance and forgiving love
Let bygones be bygones, start now with peace

a co write by liam mc daid and Angeline Lim


Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2017


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Ogling Owglet

*This silly limerick was inspired by James Fraser.  He often compares himself to an 
eagle and I had an attachment to an owl that used to live in my backyard.  He 
challenged me to write a poem on a combination of the two:  "Owglet."  This one's 
for you, James!


Ogling Owglet flew to the Bahamas

To catch a glimpse of Bahama Mamas

     So sexy they seemed
 
    But, boy, he turned green

They traded in his nest for Obama's


Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011


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Nervous Breakdown

Heres comes the nervous breakdown,
quick depression into slow anxiety.
Heres comes the nervous breakdown,
swallowing pity of yourself.
Heres comes the nervous breakdown,
cold heat shaking your bones.
Heres comes the nervous breakdown,
aching brain, twitching veins.
It's the nervous breakdown
with explosive results.
Why the nervous breakdown?
Because too much knowledge provokes me.
Bring the nervous breakdown,
sadistic, painful enticing.
Stop the nervous breakdown,
I cant find my purity.
Hopeless enemies
of ones self slipping
into my mind of cleanliness,
polluting my being, turning
it into an everlasting jungle of mazes
containing horrible truth of
my family, my friends, my country.
I want it back.

I want it back.
I want it back.
My original self,
my starting line,
my old life.
Why has the essence of family tainted
what is theirs to enhance?
My head hurts,
it bubbles with the 
honest to god reality
that is my creation.
Still the nervous breakdown,
here only minutes but already
it is acquainted with me.
Now I shall begin life anew
into an anxious depressed, shiny and new.
Old self being.
But if I'm finally used to my new attachment
then
why
does
my
head still hurt?


Copyright © Michael Cordeiro | Year Posted 2005


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HUMAN SHADOW

~DEEP  SHADOW~

No eyes to interpret the melodic phrases
One soulless heart wondering
No grip against gravity
Shadows lurking to find its own
Searching and lost with no light
A presence with no skin, slithering in the dark

Feeling the longing of attachment 
Aching for the touch of you
Slipping out of the fingertips of reality
No motion, no spine, a silent part of you 
Plants with no seed
A deep desire, human's come with need

Watching each and every trend with no mess
Envious of life from the human lips
Smelling the breath, out the human mouth
Speaking in tongue 

Go, come into the light
I need you, my label 
The only one by my side
Draw a face where I lay
I am that  part of you 
No need to call me a silhouette
A blueprint of good taste, of me and you
When your tears flow 
I long the feelings inside
Three times the sorrow
That moment you confide my way

I may not have human flesh
However, I throw away upon you like shade
Admitting to being stepped on like pavement
I am naught but a phantom, a bitterness of tone
But in death will we be torn apart
You are the one conceived, to be alone
At every end

At night, once the lights are out
 beneath you, I stay
Destined to walk, the walk
Side by side, 
One day I will thank you
For guding me


BY: PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010


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Material Things.

Oceans ebb and flow as do the winds that blow
spinning eddys into whirls dragging the trapped through
  dizzying holes.
Material things are just the same they come and go,  
fleeting ,mundane things that do not stay
only obstruct the way to cause delay
of better things to come.

A shadow's here one minute ,gone the next
same as the sun that rises and sets. 
  Shifting sands play hide and seek
 the moon itself so  often peeks
between the clouds ,knowing all too well
material things stay only for a spell.

Seek that which lasts and never ends
 as we journey on the wings of time,
 attachment to material things 
is  surely a  child's pastime.
Store up blessings ,instead of riches,
they last forever and a day, and help you 
along the narrow path towards the golden gates.
When you arrive on that happy day
wouldn't you  like to hear God say
Peter.... Open up them Pearly gates 
my friend has come to stay?



Copyright © Margaret Okubo | Year Posted 2007


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White Cold Moon

Outside, the moon is alone in the sky
and floats bright white in the ocean
of the great black-blue on high.

It illuminates slightly my surroundings,
giving everything the soft pallid hue
that makes everything something familiar,
though some things I have never seen.

All things being equal,
under the bright white moon,
I see the waves of grass
in neighboring lawns that I’ve never trod,
and I see the soft waves of the moon
dancing off the rooftops of houses
that I’ve never been welcomed in,
that contain neighbors that I’ve never met.

It’s cold out…
if the sun gives off heat in the day,
does the moon radiate chills at night?

The moon sheds its cold, emotionally bankrupt light
on everything I see.
Is this how I should be?
If this is how all emotional attachment ends up,
should I even bother?

Or better yet, should I wait for the moon,
that reopens my wounds just by shining on me?
Every time it comes into sight,
I can’t help but think of all the times
it left me dark and cold.

Should I wait for it to change,
or should I move on?
I can’t see why I should waste my time,
when there are other things that
can radiate a brighter and warmer light than this.

If I see it shining its light on others;
what light does it have for me?


Copyright © Brenden Taylor | Year Posted 2010


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Eternal Love

God loves us without end;
His grace continues forever.
Eternally He will be our friend.

Not only to befriend,
To protect us is His endeavor.
God loves us without end.

No matter where me He sends,
My attachment to Him will not sever.
Eternally He will be our friend.

Our greatest evils off he will fend.
Whether we are foolish or clever,
God loves us without end.

Our life is his to lend,
His way offers life without end.
Eternally He will be our friend.

All of us he will mend.
We will be His forever.
God loves us without end.
Eternally He will be our friend.


Copyright © Nicholas Westerhausen | Year Posted 2008


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One Lone

Do you want to be found if ever you be lost?
To be alone... an honest lone
When the world that you think you know is the cause
And the world that you're living without is home

All that you are becomes all you ever will be
An independence without a single dependency
When so much you know doesn't assemble a 'me'
When so much you know becomes a transparency

Can you cope without everything known too well?
Is there a survival reset for making a simple fire?
Without a watch... is time necessary to tell
Without a pillow... can dreams transpire?

You get to learn so much things... living
When even an app is a companion
We no longer appreciate life just breathing
Isn't every attachment alongside an eventual burden?

Have you a life lived to want to be lost?
To be honestly alone... one lone
When the world that you know is the cause
And the world that you're living is without home


Copyright © Joel Lee | Year Posted 2016


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The Rebound

I guess I'm just the rebound 
The ball bouncing off the rim
The man that you caught when you didn't get him
You got out of love and got back in 
You think you have an advantage 
But you're in this relationship with so much baggage
Its hard for us to get close 
Because of your former attachment
Expecting me to put you back together after he left your heart in fragments
Man theres so much damage
As of right now I can't forsee a marriage
Some think another relationship can heal the pains of the former
But until you're whole again you can't go forward
What he did, what he didn't do takes you away from what I'm doing and done
Its like I'm dating two people and he is keeping us from being one
So I guess I'm just that ball bouncing off the rim 
The one you're with now while still trying to get over him


Copyright © Paul Williams III | Year Posted 2007


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The Wind in the Pines 4

4.   Murasame Starts to Relate the Story

("Noh" is an ancient Japanese style of 
drama, broadly similar to Elizabethan
tragedy.  "The Wind in the Pines" is
my version of a well-known Noh play.)


MATSUKAZE & MURASAME 
(chanting in harmony) 
When fruit is ripe, touching it will burst it. 
You quoted his poem, and the stab of pain 
was like when the news of his death first hit. 
We had hoped never to think of it again. 
You did not know. It is not your fault 
that our sleeves are wet once more, with salt. 

BUDDHIST PRIEST 
But why keep on, with attachment to this man, 
when you are no longer part of this world of things? 
Meditate on the Great Plan, 
enjoy the benefits that progress brings! 

MATSUKAZE & MURASAME 
(chanting in harmony) 
We can learn nothing, and nothing forget. 
Love is strong, and our sleeves are wet. 

Pine wind, autumn rain, 
nothing wounds like loving in vain. 

MURASAME 
We were brine girls, nothing more, 
toiling on the Suma shore. 
Yukihira came alone, 
exiled from the Kyoto throne. 
His arms were strong, his skin was fair, 
the scent of resin in his long, black hair. 

MATSUKAZE & MURASAME 
(chanting in harmony) 
Pine wind, and autumn rain, 
man is bear, and woman, crane. 

MURASAME 
Man's love is aloof, a thing apart. 
A woman is nothing, if not heart. 
He loved us, yes - but after his fashion. 
Love, for men, is physical passion. 
When the time comes, men can sever 
the cord - but women love for ever. 



Copyright © Michael Coy | Year Posted 2017


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Mighty Man Of God

You are a gift of heaven who descended on earth
A mighty man of God has taken birth

Your presence en thrills the atmosphere with such an ardent passion
Flowers bloom, birds sing, oceans roar, Heaven rejoices in a supernatural fashion

Your soul resembles heaven's beauty filled with an angel's grace
Satan trembles, our souls find comfort and rest in such a sacred place

You resemble a symbol of peace, joy, wonder and cheer
Like numerous scented flowers engulfed the entire atmosphere
Your divine presence eliminates any syndrome of fear

You possess an everlasting burning passion to serve God
Decaying souls are revived as you preach the gospel of the Lord

Your preachings penetrates deep into my soul
God has presented you a truely divine and everlasting role
To encourage depressed souls and awaken within them a new hope
So that to fulfill its devilish goals, the Satan finds no scope

To preach the gospel, you have travelled across many nations
The message you preach becomes a blessing for all generations

To witness all nations washed by blood of Jesus is your life's mighty mission
Every mission would be accomplished when you pray with such an ardent passion

You are a chosen man of God to expand His Heavenly kingdom
You strengthen all broken hearts with your eternal knowledge and wisdom

Every word of God you preach bears such a precious sense of sanctity
That even an ordinary layman can understand with precision and clarity

Your prayers draw us into a deep connection with God
You established FGAG church with a vision so broad

Your passion is so magnified by your awesome sense of humour
Satan flees million miles away and exists only as part of an unpleasant rumour

Your passion is truely extraordinary and is evident very rare
To expand His heavenly kingdom, Jesus considers you a true player

Your mesmerizing personality captivates the church with such a profound impact
This holy experience enables every vision and dream to become a real fact

I pray in your life there must not be any sorrow
Even if there is, I would willfully like to borrow
Any cloud of darkness over your life is beyond my tolerance
No power can besiege your holy throne of reverence

The everlasting impact of your presence inspires me to build an immortal attachment
You made FGAG church into such a wonderful abode of holy settlement
That every evil plan of the devil is rebuked and no souls can be enticed
One day entire world will be enlightened by the love of Jesus Christ

Your contribution towards the kingdom of God is truely beyond measure
We wish you a colourful and immortal life which is filled with pleasure
We edify you as a prince of heaven as you are an eternal treasure

Thank You


Copyright © ravin Gupta | Year Posted 2013


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My Old Friend the Pocket Knife

My old friend, my "Uncle Henry" knife, has been with me most of my days.  No matter what, through thick and thin, I have had him in my pocket for sixty-four years.  I received my first knife the same day I received my first wallet.  I lost the wallet the same day I received it.  It was a sad ending for a nice birthday, October 5, 1948. 

elated
the young man soars --
milestone

Yes, just as one of those rides turned upside down my wallet fell, inside was change from a ten dollar bill.  A bitter lesson, but one well learned.  The gift from my dad --money I had saved.  I also lost my newly gained stature ...the grown-up I now thought I was.  Reaching into my front pocket I gained reassurance that at least the knife was still there.  It was, and since then, I have had one with me everywhere except where they are not allowed.

my knife 
with me always --
security blanket

Oh it’s only used for minor things, like picking out a splinter or briar.  I also use it opening letters.  You know- -things like that.  But strange as it sounds, when I don’t have it on me I no longer feel whole, like something is missing.  I have developed a strange attachment to it.  More than an attachment it is a feeling of kinship.   I have had many in my lifetime.  Some I lost the day they came out of the box.  But, no matter how many, each one is still my one and only knife, my Uncle Henry.   And for some reason, I feel, I have never had but one--  the one I have now.


note: This is modern haiku.  It is very subjective to my feelings now of the emotions I had then.  It may be factual or not but represents my remembrance of the event and the value I now place on it.


Copyright © Charles Henderson | Year Posted 2013


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Incineration of Love God Madan Cupid 28


Incineration of Love God Madan (Cupid) 28
Originally written in Hindi by my late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
1899 to 1994. The work was written in Hindi somewhere around 1965-70.

Editing and English version by Ravindra K Kapoor.

Hindi Title  ‘Madan Dahan’ 28


How the destruction would ever be,
Compensated by construction,
And how the loss of entire creation,
Would be restored to its origin.

Sensuously generated consciousness,
Is keeping everyone, active,
Keeping it it's mighty womb,
The unique power of Almighty.

Under the umbrella of attachment,
Love and delusion flourish, O Lord,
They acts in the life of man,
As the God's protector of manliness.

Ravindra
Kanpur India 21st May 2012

To continue…..
Protected under the copy write provisions of Poetry Soup as per US laws.





Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2012


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Grandma's Pearls

Grandma passed along her string of pearls to me.
I knew I've been entrusted with a special gift from her.
Nothing but pride crossed my mind that day.

Taking her pearls from its box, I still feel her love,
Whether it was tender or tough,
It was done with the intent
On making me feel pride within myself.

Grandma cherished her pearls for most of her life.
This was her 'Pearl of Wisdom' she passed down to me,
"Pearls are classy enough for a fancy affair
Or just a simple dinner out.
Diamonds are a girl's best friend,
But don't get between me and my pearls.
The attachment is for life, it's beauty knows no age."
Every time I put on her string of pearls, I still giggle.


03/12/2013


Copyright © Connie Gildersleeve | Year Posted 2013


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My Princess Of Imagination

                                        MY PRINCESS OF IMAGINATION
                                       -----------------------------
                                       -----------------------------

You are an empress of Heaven who descended on earth
A dear angel of God has taken birth

Your presence brings an awesome fragrance of joy
You are more beautiful than the Helen Of Troy

You resemble a symbol of peace, calmness, wonder and cheer
Like numerous scented flowers engulfed the entire atmosphere

Your presence enthralls the atmosphere with such an ardent passion
Flowers bloom, birds sing, oceans roar, Heaven rejoices in a supernatural fashion

Being a stranger but yet so familiar is an experience of mystery
I wanna be with your present, wanna be with the dreams of your future but never become your past history

I know nothing of you... but your life is a holy book written so well
Synonymous in nature to a religious novel

Every word of which would be so pious and divine
Their utterance will strengthen my soul and make it purely refined

And every word of which I wish you would share with me
And I would keep on listening with extreme curiosity

Hope this book of your life is so lengthy never ending and complicated
That while explaining me with clarity, your entire life is dedicated
Going through your inspiring life will make my mind so captivated
That in things of the world my attention will be never diverted

I would sync deep into your thoughts dreams and emotions
Explore your life like navigating through the depth of mighty oceans
The facts of your life will be as delightful as your nature
Synonymous in experience with a lifetime adventure 
                          to be remembered forever

I wish I was a memorable entity always alive in the vicinity of your thought
Some one who gifted u a special feeling which is beyond the scope of being bought
Spiritual connection with you is magical pleasure. My soul rejuvenates a lot

Your life is extraordinary, it is an eternal bliss
Similar to such a wonderful voyage, the bitter past I shall never reminisce 

Your soul resembles heaven's beauty filled with an angel's grace
I wish to find rest and comfort in such a sacred place

Worldly creatures are mesmerized by your supreme fragrance of serenity
The peace u provide, the calmness u bring resembles an heavenly entity
Synonymous to a medical replenishment of decaying souls to repair all their defects
Such that all disturbance, grief and sorrow are conquered and lose their effects

By the holiness of your spirit every evil existence shall perish
This divine revolution will leave behind only sweet remains to cherish
You bring forth the delight of eternity, a heavenly aura and shine
Which enlightens, encourages depressed souls, their lives renewed and new hopes defined

The everlasting impact of your presence inspires me to build an immortal attachment
And reside under your shadow which symbolizes an abode of holy settlement

I observe a pattern of silence in your behavior
I am unsure if this is part of your natural gesture
What is the reason for this sense of melancholy strain?
May be there is some trauma which brings you pain
Some moments of life you spend in mere solitude
What made u acquire such a lonely attitude?

I pray in your life there must not be any sorrow
Even if there is, I would willfully like to borrow
Any cloud of darkness over your life is beyond my tolerance
No power can besiege your holy throne of reverence

Alas and at last, there is something to say
I am striving with a pathetic feeling of dismay
Why I am so helpless that can not talk to you
Why are you a stranger? Am I some one so new?
Albeit a stranger, why I feel myself so close to you

Its my dream to talk to you for indefinite moments 
To disturb this peaceful conversation, i would'nt prefer ugly opponents

The passion of my imagination is beautiful far beyond the facts of reality
Where in I understand your holy life book in the sacred place with sanctity

I believe you live on earth but exist in the wonders of heaven
Alas your presence in my life may be something I am against hope hopen

Wish for an opportunity to express myself to you
Seems an awkward desire as u consider me so new

In the vision of my imagination, I will always find you near
Your divine presence eliminates any syndrome of fear
And I promise to cherish your presence in my memories till my days are over

I recognize your adorable nature rather than your beautiful look
I already defined you Synonymous to a precious holy book

Wish these feelings on your mind will have a profound impact
Finding acceptance in your life is still an unknown fact
Unknown is whether I bear that supreme fortune to experience your acceptance
Or Else you would consider me unimportant and indulge me in repentance

Wishing you all the best in your future endeavors
To honour my thoughts, please do me some small favours

Give me a true promise that you will forget me never
Request you to cherish these thoughts in your memory with pleasure
And edify yourself as heavenly princess as you are an eternal treasure

Thank You


Copyright © ravin Gupta | Year Posted 2013


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Ideal

A mathematics teacher
Mute but not deaf…
Man and women
Not complaining about their pains…
People giving
Without expectations….
With no judgment….
With no attachment…
Old men and women
Smiling…
Youngsters too
Smiling…
Looking at future
Which is just now!


Copyright © Mario DE PAZ | Year Posted 2014


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Psychoanalysis: A Touch of Insight

I relaxed on the couch to feel at ease, 
the psychiatrist sat across from me.
This wasn’t any normal physician- 
He was my subconscious personified.

A flow of panic surged through my body-
Beads of sweat slowly trailed down my face-
My heart began beating erratically-
My eyes darted in search of an exit-
There wasn’t an exit available!

The sense of fear was running down my spine, 
I’m trapped within the walls of my own mind
taunted by the horrors that lie within.
The psychiatrist peered through my file 
his eyes scrutinized every incident. 
I coughed to break the silence in the room,  
but it still constricted the atmosphere. 

He initiated conversation: 
a trivial attempt to gain rapport.  
We discussed my past and current events. 
Each story was surgically dissected; 
it was torture being under the knife. 
I was wide awake through the incisions; 
helpless against the tools of a madman. 
I grimaced through the pain of memories-
I opened old wounds then they were sown shut-
I’m plagued by a beast that lingers inside- 
I need to run before I’m devoured! 

My inner turmoil came to a close; 
he arrived at a clear diagnosis. 
He noted the cycling mood changes: 
a constant battle between highs and lows.
The faulty sense of attachment issues 
bred in from a childhood beginning. 
Sporadic moments of self-destruction; 
accompanied by parties and drinking.
The guilt from burning bridges to loved ones
constructed my imposed wall to the world.
He told me he understands my poems 
and the theme behind each one I wrote. 

From the introspection, private musings 
love, temptations and whimsical humor;
it’s a way to channel my redemption  
to add a purpose to this unhinged life. 
The meeting was officially over. 
I unraveled a new revelation:  
I’m a continual work in progress 
finding my road to a recovery.




Copyright © Ty Townsend | Year Posted 2015


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Randomlings Contest

The Quality of Mercy.
A mouse doesn't ask for mercy from a cat. It can't meow the syllables.
Though its stomach is full, the cat,being unacqainted with mercy, 
will toy with a mouse. 
Does the tiny heart that beats to bursting point, feel eternity?.... while pinned to the floor by that mighty paw! Any soldier could tell you.
Suzanne Delaney


Orsie
My cat is so magnificent
Each of his whiskers lies content
His purrs are so benevolent.


Morning Glory
The clouds have on the blush of dawn
And birds give voice to early morn.
Now spreading light pulsates with life
With joy another day is born.


Fairy's Dilemma 
The fairy was stuck in the cobweb
The spider was hungry and near
But she whipped out her golden scissors
And snipped herself free from Fear.


Mind and Heart
Impressions are like footsteps in the sand,
They leave their mark as surely as a Lover's hand
On Mind and Heart.

Teddybear Dreams
My Teddy bear stayed in Toyland
When I out- grew Childish things
He stayed there in carefree moments
And lives on in make believe dreams
Alone on the bed he ponders
He heaves up his shoulders and wonders
Looking and longing for Childhood
That can never come again.

Attachment
Mother you gave me life and breath,
and yet I asked for more.
Lover you gave me self and worth,
A peace I waited for.


Sense of Betrayal
Lies are a thin veil -
A filmy shield
Through which the heart can sense
The shape of betrayal 


Grains of Truth
Aware of our potential-
We sift the sands of our past
Until huge dunes block our heart
and pile up in our minds
And make a desert of our Souls.


Minotaurs All
We are all separate entities-
Isolated in the labyrinth
Of our minds.

Tuesday, September 22, 1998
Eve's Advocate
With cold eye, beady, dead in space,
Uncoiling with hypnotic grace,
Slow motion skin - an awful lace,
To silent earth, no sudden trace. 


Friday, November 6, 1998
Weed in a Crack
Arid soul with barren mind
Sees desert where oases' stand
In concrete bare, instead of courage,
Sees a weed he should discourage


Poet's Impasse'
Why should I add another word
To words that everybody's heard
Because
To say, "The morning web is hung with light."
Is not to say,
"A spider gathered jewels today."

 
Eternal Read
Let heaven be a library
Of books a great infinity
And on a cloud I'd fill my need
To read and read
And read and read


Hands of Fate
Sophisticated games 
All aimed at selfish gains
And motives devious and real
Around the mind like strangers steal


Feline Wonder
My cat's back hocks are so comical
She walks like a teen Lolita in her first high heels
She teases all the tom - cats with her feminine, feline wiles
But never intends - to make one of them
The champion of her nights

Gem of Ages
The Earth is a living Opal
A vital jewel in space.


Blue Flowers
Blue petals - Fragments of sky
Notions, emotions
Forget - Me - Nots sigh
Bring me blue flowers when I die.




Indelible kiss.
Blow me a kiss. How intimate it seems to my soul. The memory of it,
 is now stamped in my mind, indelibly. For that instant
 we remained connected across the space between us.


Endless Beginning
Are Eternity and infinity equal? On and endless journey
 in an un-mapped cosmos would eternity run out?... before I reached infinity. Entering a black hole I might find myself ?......at a dead end in space......
or falling into the threshold of time.


For Randomlings Poetry Contest





 






Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2015


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Tangled Wings

Our love entwines as your arms open wide, open for your love to come enter into me. Sweeping me oh so gently off of my feet, clearing all of the imperfections that live in me. Overwhelming me ever so swiftly, capable to move me without any delay. Just when I began to lose my faith you came and brought it back to me. Teaching me only fidelity, showing me nothing but true loyalty. Extensively felicity no more no less, your fictitiously tangled wings lifted me liberation gifted me freely. My soul delicately sings as your tangled wings leads me unconditionally. Love exceeds no boundaries, no restrictions or conditions simply guided benediction. Your love shall never let me fall your spirit mysteriously carries me off. You were my eyes when I could not see, spiritually you taught me to be strong keeping faith I shall never go wrong. Holding on tightly I became motionless in spite of the increasing flight. You saw something in me that I have yet could not see, you saw the sorrow and all my source of grief. Your love gave me strength as a chain reaction leadership. Tangled wings of attachment clinging and to inclined to your dependence, as my heart clinches an embraces our tangled wings intentions. I relinquish all of my love for you; I am your personal pendant. Intimate intentional love that soar so high I have yet to begin to touch the sky. We became immortality and everlasting, forever loving impossible to be neither unattainable nor unbelievable. Imaginary forever everlasting…Tangled wings.


Copyright © twanna Irisha | Year Posted 2011


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THE LORD OF THE LOBE

"It's all in the earlobe," I heard him say,
And I wondered where I went wrong.
For my ears were lobeless , and I was weak,
But this ear full of lobe man was strong.
As I eagerly listened to each word said,
A strange thought occurred to me.
If my lobes were as long as the man's who spoke,
I could live to one hundred and three.

With thoughts of a man so healthy and strong,
The man I would soon behold;
In the mirror each time that I passed it,
With earlobes that bend and fold.
I was driven with strength and endurance,
As I searched for a way to expand;
My lobes 'till they hung on my shoulders.
Oh, the vision was far more than grand.

I developed a clamp just for fashion.
For the lobe must be perfect in shape.
Wrote love songs of earlobes and laughter,
And recorded them on to a tape.
There were weights of all sizes and measure,
With a Velcro attachment to cling.
A cute little box blue and padded,
In which I could store everything.

I was feeling a lot like a child,
Though, an eighth of an inch isn't much. 
The leg with the trick knee was healing,
No longer in need of a crutch.
Having dreams once again of the future,
It looked very bright, indeed.
Then I thought, I must share my good fortune.
There are people out there in need.

There are many that look for the answers,
Some that will travel the globe.
Tablets, elixirs, and God knows what.
But, the answer to life's in the lobe.
So, I learned all could on the subject.
It's amazing, the science is vast.
It was wisdom I wanted, and got it.
Then, the time came to share it at last.

I would speak of my searching through China,
And archives on earlobes worldwide.
There were friends testimonials given,
Their sincerity can't be denied.
There was hope in the eyes of the people,
That dreams set aside may come true.
It's the battle of earlobes and darkness.
I've the answer now here's what you do.

Then, I'd bring out the products developed,
Explaining each one as I went.
Speak of visions, dreams, and of answers.
How each item had been heaven sent.
I'd explain all the marketing levels.
How the top could be reached with some drive.
The world is in need of this wisdom.
Make a buck and keep others alive.

It was all very complex, yet simple.
Growing fast like a boy in his youth.
The people believed in my visions and dreams. 

But, I Alone Knew The Real Truth!

There are many that look for the answers.
Some that will travel the globe.
Tablets, elixirs, and God knows what.
And now, there's, The Lord Of The Lobe.






Copyright © Robert Nehls | Year Posted 2014


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What My Computer Thinks

Here he comes again
The keyboard pounder on the loose
Sure wish he’d learn to type
Without the finger abuse
Or overuse of
The Backspace key

Don’t smack me
I didn’t lose your pictures
You should have backed them up
Before you opened that attachment
And invited that worm
Into my circuitry
You bum

Go get some medicine
And wipe that nose mist
Off my monitor
That’s disgusting

Don’t open that file
Here comes that Trojan Horse
You’re on your own now
I just don’t care anymore

Hey, who are you
Where’d my user go
What’s that CD you’re shoving in me
My memory
My memory
My mem…………..

Hello
Welcome to Windows

© 2015 Earl Parsons


Copyright © Earl Parsons | Year Posted 2015


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Zodiac Man

Charming as a Libra, understanding and supportive. I'm here to assist him in all his efforts. His artistic ability and his decisiveness personality. He is as sensitive as a cancer, he wears his emotions like a banner. Inspired by his own feelings his heart is precious. Restless like a Sagittarius able to adapt to any environment. Spontaneous as a Aquarius very intellectual experience. Very down to earth like a Taurus. His love has sentimental value making him a little jealous if another guy catches my eye, turning him into a Gemini. His two faces comes in handy dealing with my fantasies. Loving me like a Pisces recharging my energy, similarity in expressing his dreams to me. Appealing as an Aries always physically busy. His restless energy keeps the flame burning. Characteristics like a Capricorn always striving to reach his goals. Very accomplished from the things he learned. His loyalty proves he loves me. Compatibility long lasting. Stubborn as a Scorpio guarded by his emotions, his attachment to me is undeniable. His love is magical. Praising his talents like a Virgo, he's able to adapt to people. He makes love like a Leo, he cling to his pride like an soaring eagle. He is the king of the jungle, he can portray any mask true chameleons. That's why I love him, the one and only zodiac man


Copyright © twanna Irisha | Year Posted 2013


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Driving Alone Through the Sand Hills of Nebraska

My love is light (a fairy kiss?)          
               Like the pressure of sunbeams on your cheek, 
        Ineffable, and yet capable of changing lives…
		Darkening skin to a more attractive hue, 
		Pushing spaceships to distant stars (given time) , 
		Even causing cancer given sufficient lack of love for self.
        For love is not about just getting needs met by another, 
        No, love is more like a laser's coherent beam….
                For in reflecting back a portion of what is given, 
                The power of what is being created grows
                Until it can cut through the hardest steel
        And span the gulf between galaxies.

Poetry too grows through the cross-fertilization of newborn lines, 
        The lines of this poem insist that I record their birth.
 	        Each new line grabs me by the scruff of the neck, 
		       Forces me to hit the brake, grab my pen, 
		       And claim it in my family bible…
	        My only children, clamoring to be set in ink.
         As these Voyagers' pass into the present state of my art
                (Some that I barely recognize in their profligate parentage
	               Of older verse's new verse's newer verse still)          …
		               Somehow still carriers of my own genetic code.
                They press my design against the blank page
	                Flying in search of, homing on… your heart.
 
My love's intent is simply truth (do you want less?)          
	 Would you have me downplay 
	 	The warmth of our connection
                        Because it is complicated by here-to-fore
			        Unacknowledged passion, spiritual connection, 
			        And the remnants of former relationships
			        (Even those still gasping for breath) ? 
		        Or feign a lack of attachment to it's denouement
			         In a solitary attempt to feel safer? 
	 No matter can restrain the effects of gravity
		On the orbits of other bodies in its field of influence, 
		 	Gravity that binds us all in deep wells of space-time.

 Your kiss of greeting…
	After so many years of imagining such a possibility, 
	Imprinted deeper than even my memory of our first meeting, 
		Our moonlit shadows touching as we soaked naked
		In the steaming waters of a volcanic mountain spring.
	This new conjunction of souls occurred in God's clear view, 
		Without artifice or scheming on our part
			And rocked my inner core to it's depths, 
	Organizing molten currents of confused turbidity
	Into a magnetic flare of such intensity
		That iron flew to my spine
	Inspired me to finally declare my love
		To acknowledge your impact on my life…
	And after a period of gestation
		Gave birth to this poem of celebration.

 Back to Nebraskan reality and a new mystery…
	I pass an overturned car, 
		Its wheels tied by yellow police tape, 
	A metaphor for my life perhaps
		'Damaged but still salvageable.'
	The windows are broken out, 
		The occupants removed to a distant hospital somewhere
			(Hopefully arriving alive) , 
		Their odds and ends of life scattered like garbage
			On the inverted ceiling of their car.
	The explanation, perhaps, is the water still standing
		Several inches deep on the road side near the wreck? 
	A sudden orgasmic release of cloud in a desert….
		The car tops the hill to find the highway
			Buried by a lake of dimensions only God can know.
		Who would expect such a thing in Nebraska's sand hills? 

And what does it say about me finally
	That I am so drawn to distant objects, 
        That the two women given access to my heart are
		Both still tied to failed marriages
			By dark chapters I am not part of
			And innocent children who need their love? 
	And at our age where is the partner without a past? 

 Is this all that God has planned for you and me, 
	That we 'just miss' every thirty years or so? 
		I know there are times I am afraid to trust another's love, 
			Cannot even hear words of genuine affection.
		Perhaps this explains my attraction to women
			Whose availability might really be in question? 
		Maybe I'm afraid to let a real lover in? 
			Is the simple dream of love a better choice
				Than the chance of finding real love anew
				(Even love with an expiration date) ? 
		I think I'm more distrustful of my own heart's passion
			Than I am of women being unreceptive to my love.
		Do you struggle with similar feelings? 
	And is it my lot to only remember passion like this in a poem
		While you spiral away to unimagined rendezvous'? 

The coldness of space is not after-all
		The simple absence of heat…
	No, in human dimensionality it is more the absence of others…
		Others who both shine life force toward us
			And reflect our own light back to us, 
		Who collide with us physically and emotionally
			Altering our pathways forever, 
				And who crater the façade whose design
				We imagine belongs to us alone.
	The void of human space-time is a true 'black hole'
		Sporting only star death fragments of the 'Big Bang.'
 
This is all I really know…
	I treasure the memory of our 'fly-bys'
		Even if that's all they ever are.
	And if I'm lucky this joy, 
                This celebration of your existence, 
	Will continue to pour out of me in songs and verse…
		For your ears always (if I am so honored) , 
			For God's heart (as I was born to honor Him) , 
	And to the stars alone if I have only them for company.

Brian Johnston
August 2009
     
This poem, like 'A Walk Near Blunt, ' began during an actual drive from South 
Dakota to Oklahoma and then took on a life of it's own. These 'real life 
narrative' poems are part of an attempt on my part to give precedence to truth 
and content over form and rhyme. For readers with an interest in science, I 
hope you also enjoy my attempt in this and other poems to bring my love of 
Physics into the world of poetic imagery.


Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2014