Best Easterly Poems
Last time it rained was in April.
It did not rain that much,
but it was enough to dirty everywhere.
You see, it was a south easterly wind
and the clouds arrived laden with sand from the north African desert.
That was nearly five months ago, and the farmers are already up in arms,
bemoaning lack of water as they till the arid soil.
dust flies in the air
the sun blazes overhead
sweat drips profusely
Prayers have not gone unanswered!
Dark clouds creep from behind the hills
fast multiplying, ominously, obliterating the blue.
The calm hot air is ruffled by a timid breeze which soon turns
to gusty wind. A sudden horizontal flash followed by drawling thunder
precedes a few big drops of rain which testily hit the ground.
increase of tempo
deafening cymbals clash
erupting deluge
Water gathers then flows steadily down the streets;
thirsty fields drink greedily; trees bathe in delight, relishing
heaven’s kiss of life on their moribund leaves, roots breathing in relief.
Then, worn out, the wind slowly abates; so do the thunder and the rain.
The clouds shyly disperse, permitting an unobstructed view of the sky above.
Satiated, the sundrenched land savours the afterglow.
sensual appeal
petrichor emanation
veins pleasantly throb
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest: Rain Rain Come My Way
Sponsor: binibining P.iNk
8th June 2016
jampacked city streets
that jangled and banged
in the raucous jarring day
shifted
from business to boogaloo
squeezing into moonlight
party lights
gin and lime-kissed
gimlet sequined dress
strutted
in studded six-inch heels
riveting flair
provoking jive and jazzy nights
to tame this lion of New York
The bed swallowed the evening
sucked-up in slumbered
sobering snooze
exhaling the drunkard’s stench
while the warmth of whiskey
and you next to me
laid dreamy still
popped up and propped up
restless and ragged
realizing the changing view
through the dirt-stained window
a pool of placid sunrise
igniting
colorless clustered towers
bulwarks and girders
scraping the sky
out of the easterly clouds
a creeping golden palette
arose
touching every crevice
defining each silhouette
your body stirs deliberate and slow
rainbow hued eyes
slenderly slitted catching
the new-found light
opening, tenderly revealing
the landscape of your smile
disclosing
a cozy contentment
waking with hello
as I fall into your dream
and a new day
Written: November 11, 2023
____________________________________________________
Zeal, which requires forbearance as its root,
Akin to a home built upon sleek clay
Yet, as brave as all the walls on the route
And its high spires proudly rise to the sky.
Though skilled creators leave behind a trail,
Aesthetic pyrrhic shapes on every hand.
Shining sculptures in shady nooks prevail
And waterfalls dance in some pastiche stands.
Yet, when a gloomy easterly breeze blows,
The worst wind blows, and dewy showers fall.
Always defeating a hindrance that flows
Then! The ornate design crumbles and crawls.
Earning love spells the skill to endure pain.
Masonry-like friendship called to remain
The sun rose bright red not a dark cloud in sight
Few whispy cotton clouds spread around blue sky
Redtail Hawk in sky left nest for morning flight
On those cold air currents he did swiftly fly
Door was opened by east north easterly wind
Letting out illness, death, want_then in comes health
The sun set covered in dense clouds_cold its shroud
Will it rise in morn purple horizon proud
In the high valley
I make my Sit and Forget place.
(Truly, though my Chit and Regret place.)
My cushion.
My tea.
These pale wildflowers,
and the hauntings of my heart.
The silhouetted geese,
and the tauntings of my mind.
(Truly, though the dauntings of my no-self.)
The winds blow up the
slopings.
The breeze pools, cool here,
in the dale.
Each Accomplished blade of grass,
each of the thousand million,
sways now South, now Easterly...
Opinionless, the sheaves of green
whither this, whither that;
all bending, all pointing
singly, as One...
I alone, in this high mountain valley,
somewhere above the clouds,
somewhere beneath the peaks,
am delighted by my opinions;
tormented by my opinions.
I sit...
Breezes...
I sit...
To wit:
Guarded by towering hills on the East
And flanked by the Arabian Sea on the West
With its easterly shore of stretching sandy swell
That lulls the restless waves to sleep,
There is a land, my land of green vegetation
Nestled among palm trees and paddy fields.
Oh! I am in love with this narrow strip of land
Of rugged hills and meandering rivers
Of placid backwaters and blue skies
Of gibbering monkeys and singing cuckoos
What rich diversity you graciously provide
A land dotted with temples, churches and mosques
Where Hindus, Christians and Muslims cohabit
Where diversity flows through her arteries
And unity beats through her throbbing heart
Here souls dance to the timeless rhythm of music
Of diverse genres, vocal and instrumental
Classical and folk, sung either as solo or in groups
With the accompaniment of (2) 'veena',(3) 'tanpura' and violin
Their varying pitches beautifully synchronized!
In the serene dawns and dusky evenings
The atmosphere gets abuzz with the soft strains
Of (1) ‘Sopana Sangeetham’, the ethnic music of Kerala,
It comes floating from inside the Hindu shrines
Flooding soul’s enchanted shores,
And opening the floodgates of piety
In healing murmurs and throbbing notes,
As the symphony builds up its circuitous round
It descends down as a stream of blessing
Drenching devotees in its moistening sweetness
Like the drizzle of dew drops from heaven
Making hearts ride in the palanquin of joy!
May.21.2023
If your Birthplace- Country was a Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Anoucheka Gangabissoon
This poem is about Kerala, a small state in India, which is my birthplace and its geography and culture.
1.Sopana Sangeetham is a form of Indian Classical music, developed in the temples of Kerala. It is sung, sitting by the holy steps leading to the sanctum sanctorum of a shrine.
2.Veena- a stringed musical instrument, one of the oldest of Indian musical tradition, played sitting cross legged, capable of producing all oscillations of Carnatic music
3. Tanpura- a drone instrument of Indian origin used mainly in a concert of classical music, creating a melodic background, but not a melody.
autumnal leaves trapped
hang, twirl in easterly breeze.....
sticky spider web
When i am yet of this world
understand me as i ought to be
believe in me as i should be,
and when i become of the afterlife,
bury me in satin my friend,
do not burn me....from your thoughts,
as i yet wish to live from the underground,
as this is all i would have lived for.
And if you do burn me,
let my ashes fly with the easterly winds,
so that i may yet live again,
wander aimlessly over the sands of grain...
and feel the scents of homely joy,
like almighty's beloved toy.
When my mother died
My craving eyes rained
And tormented soul cried
Blood sucked and energy drained
The sky fell, the sun eclipsed
It was a horrifying dark day
The fragrant breeze turned into easterly wind
O God! Orphaned at the age of twelve, why say
The spear of loneliness pierced my heart
Causing deep bleeding wound
Pointed at me was misfortune’s dart
All my hopes and aspirations drowned
Seasons came and seasons went
In the desert of heart autumn never changed
Gardens were filled with bloom’s scent
The butterflies with colors artfully arranged
My heart remained a symbol of despair
No one ever shared my grief
My cancerous wound alone to bear
I searched and searched but no relief
(Winner in the Member Contest of Destroyer Poet judged on 6-20-2012)
((( Sailor
Sail your boat
Sun's rising ~ on the sea
Set your sails
Winds blowing easterly
Cast your nets to fish
Pack your catch and go
Your woman’s waiting home
To feed the family )))
easterly winds blow
soldiers of faith sing and grow
stalwarts of Thy flow
rolling, shaking my heart in red
out of the blue you're soaked and fed
loving hearts that feed on rails
leaping souls that heed, not wails
eaves of heart-shaped leaves overflowing
reign of adoration outlying
couches or bench seats of hearts that drift
over your body levitate, not sift
a heart rolling over like wave
sauntering caterpillar so brave
tis immortal soul that roar and dwell
easterly winds will blow and tell
rollercoaster of hearts made in heaven, not hell
kids
in
wigs
tickle
my
r i b s
Colorful glow in the dark costumes.
Witches, vampires, monster, zombies,
mummies , ghost, ghouls, pirates, fairies, and ninjas
Giggles and tickles, filling their tummies with yummies
They walk around the neighborhood knocking on doors
with shouts “Trick - or- Treat! Fill my bag I want candy.”
Darkness of twilight, shadows of moonlight, cold night.
Carved pumpkins, lite candles flickering and dancing sitting on c o n c r e t e blocks, presence of a dark spirit near casting eerie chilling, howling fear.
Haunted house, KEEP OUT sign, broken fence, harvest mouse.
Bubbling caldrons, glittering white silhouette skeletal trees.
Easterly wind perfect for a ride on a broom stick serenading
the moon and play among the stars before it starts to fade into
morning twilight. Don’t lose
your way through haunted hallow you might
stand in the absent of sound, fog hanging close to
the ground and caressing, fear will come close
This is Halloween
10/28/2016
Children Story
Many years ago, way back in time the month of April was known as the Blackthorn Winter,
It was the time of the year when the blackthorn begins to dress in her finest blossom,
Deep in the country the small hamlets custom says is the time for bitter cold weather,
Time for east and north-easterly hard winds chill all, hail, sleet and sometimes snow.
The blackthorns and the plums in sheltered orchards awaken and begin to come to life,
They quickly showed themselves thickly clustered with tiny little green bursting buds,
Blue whiteness of the blossom half revealed, like the wide smile of a beautiful girl,
A rich white that makes your heart and eyes light up at the sight of unrivaled beauty.
Cold are the winds buds of trees swell and they grow like a naturally beautiful woman,
They come forward and bloom standing cold but fearless, determined to wait for the sun,
On cold grounds a lilac stands it looks so green flushed with it's half-unclosed leaves,
A yellow rose fights to start its new life just as custom says in a Blackthorn Winter.
Six minutes to six. I’m ready for tea,
The forecast for shipping – what is in store ?
My chair is a vessel far out on the sea,
Rain, moderate or good, occasion’ly poor.
There’s warning of gales in areas all,
The Low in the Faeroes promises more,
South-easterly, storm force, tending to squall,
Rain, moderate or good, occasion’ly poor.
Home by the fireside no sailor am I,
But share in the ritual, listen in awe,
Watch the storm brewing and see the clouds fly,
Rain, moderate or good, occasion’ly poor.
Fisher, Tyne, Dogger and Forth, German Bight,
Deepening depression and gales by the score
In Plymouth and Portland, Dover and Wight,
Rain, moderate or good, occasion’ly poor.
Not easy to concentrate, riding the swell –
Turn up the volume against the wind’s roar,
The man from the ‘Beeb’ has conjured up hell !
Rain, moderate or good, occasion’ly poor.