Best Fruitlessly Poems

Ears pricked at car door closing in the street,
and focussed on the footsteps through the gate
she stepped into the hall, unsteady feet
they bounded forward, welcome couldn't wait.
Two forty pounds of fur, and sixteen legs,
four eager snouts and tongues shot through the air
her hands held up...

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Existence

World is a drama stage,
which has a dwimmer screen,
that can trap you with a
net of desires.
Several stories, diverse roles,
pretending folks, everything is fake!
So why do you shed tears 
for these ungrateful peeps?
Love is a phantasm, 
which starts with a thirst 
and ends up in a...

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In the church at Semilong
no more was heard the priest we had.
He had departed long ago
to a place some way from here.

His voice had timbre like a drum
and echoed, certainly,
and when he read hymn numbers out,
they had air of mystery.

"Two six four seven", he would...

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Dangerous Mind

The mind is a most dangerous thing,
Forcing memories into replay,
Endless relived moments drowning bring
Snippets in time more real than today. 
Paralyzing sadness is trouble
Which the mind needs to be addressing. 

Before I died inside, I really tried.

The sleepless mind toys with our heartstrings,
Always knowing...

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The Atlantic City boardwalk is a lonely place to be
when it's early morning just after three.
The stores are all closed, and the beaches are clear.
Just look around and you won't see another soul near.
At this hour, nobody wants to roam.
Everybody is in their hotel rooms,...

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*** Words Vanish ***

Words vanish!
Disperse — as prayer begun  
Moves to clear the mind 
    And bare the heart,
Swelling the soul to meet Thee
    With love…

Sending on high gratitude’s praises,
Pulsing on into silence — 
Worshipping in awe of...

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Wrested from my writing by a drone
which signified that I was not alone
in its black and yellow jumper it had come
fat and furry, bigger than my thumb
it cruised around the room in lazy eights
before it worked itself into a state
against the window wings fizzed on...

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considering the inanity of writing a poem
 without  any idea  of a subject
  to write about has not deterred me 
from blindly filling the first sentence with words of little or no value.
Now that the fingers (two)
 flicker over the key board...

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Among its existing old leaves of the mango tree
Arrived fresh flowers in early February

At dawn everyday
Bare gay soles at walk felt tiny granules
A pleasurable scent greeted them on their way

Soon little mangoes came out
Tiny green shapes stout
Adorning the same old and pale green leaves
Dust laden...

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Coffee or tea?

Fragmented frogs frolicking fruitlessly freeing flavoursome fairy freckles,
But what of the speckled hound in the bin?
Well he growled,
He snarled,
The sole paw pilot pivoting,
How interesting was it to note though that the frogs although fragmented held a fragrance like no other,
And like no other...

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From hunting comes 
From hunting drums
From hunting hums
All bright stars
Near and far
In New York or Trafalgar 
Those stars in skyscrapers
Those dazzling gold vapours
The government shapers
The controller of all papers
All go on hunting 
And keep counting
And measuring sometimes too
In the treasury

Keep your eyes open
The lids may...

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Either your hints were not that elaborate
Or I failed to decipher
The hidden connotation
In either case
We both are looser
I have lost my sleep
And you, your glaze
When you are in the motherly
Lap of dark night
I measure distances among the stars
Nevertheless it is doubtful
Whether you too are sleeping
Or...

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Apocryphal embellishments of

a non-canonical secret society,

teeming amidst a dubious 

enterprising authenticity, 

exposure's excessed stormy decay of 

  tormented poet's crushing blows,

ego's wild oats fruitlessly sown

rampaged rush to save their own flesh,

poesy's wildflower blooms wilted

under acid rein's torridity of seduction,

hence poetry's infertile demise unto 

dusty...

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An ocean swept attitude
with dream like visions
of bliss…but where is
the real happiness that
Is lost when reality…appears

As forsaken and neglected
hearts lie broken, as easy
as thin branches during
Winter’s cold, In the raging
battlefields of love.

Shaped and reshaped negatively,
mind-thoughts become ignorant
to a new found bliss not wanting
to believe that...

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Desperately trying to discard all of who I was but,
I have no clue who I am, my thoughts are clashing,
memories replay but I cant tell how to perceive them,
what am I supposed to do, did I do what was best- no.
I don't know. If I...

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