Best Of Late Poems
A short Poem as
A Tribute to My Lost Wife.
Countless voices and memories
May get foggy or dim
By the flow of time stream,
But where do they get erased,
From the continuous petals of mind,
What to say of friends, even life partners,
Get lost, while walking on the path of life,
But, their images and figures,
On the petals of mind,
Continue to spread their fragrance,
Till we breath and live in this world,
To inspires us to fight, the darkness all around
To support those, who are losing courage and hopes
This is the mantra of life
I got it from my lost loved ones and
from my lost wife Shashi.
.
Even if, rocks become obstacles,
To destroy into pieces,
All the bright figures and shapes,
Want to lay rope to bind,
To bind the stream of art and writing,
Which has immense power and force,
But where has anyone stopped
The flow and current of a powerful river
Or has closed in his fist
The beautiful fragrance flowing in the air.
Ravindra K Kapoor
New Raipur India 17 07 2020
* On this day I lost my wife in 2017.
Of late I feel lost
untethered and tossed
like a ship left dead on the sea.
But no need to worry
for I'm in no hurry
with a dove flying circles 'round me.
Getting a little unsteady on my feet of late
Could mean I'm getting close to that final big date
You know the one
When your bun is done
And you're ready for your last meal on a celestial plate
Sky as infinite as deep thoughts,
foaming sea emitting sparkles,
glances brightened by romance,
a sweet urge to dance...
enjoying the peace of late hours.
Inspired by Linda-Marie's photo ps.JT76945.jpg
written by Andrew Crisci
“Where have all the flowers gone,” the poet wrote
A metaphor for those lost in a cruel war of late
Lives that were wrested from home and family
And thrown into a milieu of humiliation and hate
No real purpose for forfeiting their young lives
In conflict that obviously portended no good ending
But then, what war of that magnitude ever does? --
Is worth our young servicemen and women sending
To sacrifice their lives for some undefined honor
Is it patriotism to assert ourselves in a foreign affair
Methinks there are ulterior motives unexplained
That did not justify the loss of lives way over there.
written November 5, 2021
Crickets buzz Owls hoot
scattered fireflies flash dim glow
Beauty of late night
I received a call
That made my heart fall
They said, you passed away
I did not know what to say
I stood up but I fell
With urges only to YELL
I stood, but could not walk
My whole being went into shock
Where, oh where have you gone?
I keep looking for you
From dusk to dawn
My shoes are tattered
My clothes are shorn
Do I have to wait?
And believe in faith?
Do I have to wait?
Until I reach heaven’s gate?
To see and meet you again
As it says in the “good” book?
And then I can give up the task
Of always having to look….
Written by mjmankasingh august 2010
Can one dwell in an pissattude of nothingness and pay foreward a coporeal difference? Can life/lovelessness resemble any human entity that leads to something/foreverness? Abuse X Hate + Control Through Fear- Altruism and Empathy = last place in a love relationship.
Am I linked in between the two as a nonsequitur being?
Will I ever discover a universal endeavority as it is written for me?
What is the scope of my meaning in this existance, mine or otherwise?
Does it matter I am here? What I do? Who I know/say/feel?
Is my element of predication upon others a matter of their absent evolution?
Will they evolve for better or for worse because of my interventions?
Are you better off for knowing/not knowing me?
What is the point of my presence in this place, on this planet?
Why am I here? Whay was I born? What's the POINT??
Do I matter? To whom? Should I live, die, go away?
What am I supposed to be doing? Now, later, tomorrow, infinity?
Am I an integral part of the universe, or just an uninteresting static blip on a screen, old broadcast news, empty can of soup, stale bread-ceacker crumbs.
of an uneverlasting life? A biological *****?
Should I, anyone, even be thinking on this universal "God" persuasive level, this plane? No trespassing signs abound us, here in the slums of being human.
Someone let me know if there is a summative/cummulative plan, point of view
that speaks to a legitimate credibility to/fro these questions offered.
I tend to dwell in somewhat momentary constant doubt of everything that sets us up for an inter/after temporal fuge positve/negative graded social existance with poweredpleasanttithecrossyourheartkneelamenpotentials and forever
guided spiritual linguistic experiential enemas with all things inner/eternal. Tickets please?
i miss the softness of her touch
cut short by Lehman brothers’ harsh
collapse
i miss kindness of time before the crash
economy in relative peace
living off fumes of postwar boom
before post-traumatic stress of recession-plagued world
robbed me of ability to fulfill my dreams
and fully reveal my inner self
thanks to din of private property
and rumble of greed
world is psychotic, denial laden
- where love can be a marketplace
humans commodified to the extreme -
i yearn for a world
where people can be people
judged on the merits of their person
not their circumstance
for in such a world
there would be no need to worry
for inherent goodness in every human being
is a guarantee
someday that world will be realized
this i know for sure
this poem a dedication
and an affirmation
of that truth.
"Were you online again dear half way through the night" the wife said to me,
My thoughts were simply " I wish she would let me just write and be".
2010 I decided that I was going to get my real wish to take some real flight,
I could do what I want when I want without any type of nosey drained out fight.
2009 I decided the big divorce and would be free and go my own way,
I would open up blog after blog without hearing a word that she would say,
Between tulip, dan, the rev and 2010 explosions of neve and many more,
I would write until my fingers bled, and barely walk outside the front door.
I would let my health take a plunge and not take any good advice spoken,
I would rather let everything around me become a mess, my life broken,
But when I am told to change things from those who love me like they do,
I gripe they are judgmental even though I gained many pounds or two.
**we never want to hear advice from those who love us when our lives
hit the toilet
this is for the dans, the tulips, the jeremies, and the rev's, oh and now
neve...
a 2010 explosion...in more ways then one..an explosion
We had a fight
We're on a break
Our words are tight
No words of late
We used to talk
We're on a break
Our words were chalked
Each day, on slate
We used to laugh
We're on a break
Our words are rough
No words of late
Of late, I seem unable
To write a song or fable.
Perhaps it’s too much caffeine;
I seem to be unstable.
Now recently, I’m shaking;
My muscles have been aching.
I may be lacking protein,
Or maybe I’m just faking.
A certain strange malodor;
Those germs are all freeloaders.
Perhaps it is my hygiene,
My wife complained, I showed her.
Perhaps it’s too much caffeine,
I may be lacking protein.
Of late, I seem unable;
Perhaps it is my hygiene.
----------
Another of the 4 stanza poems where the 4th is constructed from the non-rhyming lines from first 3 and the first line from the first.
This one is 7 syllables throughout, so depending on the definition of a jueju, it fits that category, as described in "Dawn song".
It's also fairly stupid, just trying to get the hang of this 4th stanza as
a summary of the first 3...
BREEDS OF LATE LEGENDS
The soul of Bob Marley -
Tap it from the Caribbean reggae.
The ambition of Tupac Shakur -
Immortalize a generational legacy.
The mind of Malcom X -
A monument for all world's activists.
The dream of Martin Luther King -
Still holds the world's ear ransom.
The heroics of Nelson Mandela -
Voyage from apartheid to multiracial democracy.
The greatness of Muhammad Ali -
"Floats like a butterfly & Sting like a bee".
The world need not these monstrous men mountains
But most needing of a breed of our late legends.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright©November2022.
After ten years a night like this,
when I will be in my late thirty's;
with a healed heart and maintained smile,
I will be laughing at my youth's flaws undefined.
I will be laughing for rushing after those 'emotionally absents',
I will be laughing for wasting months and years over my imprudence.
I will be laughing for dedicating them saucy love poems.
Maybe I will be reading them aloud but I will not be feeling the same.
Those breathless nights will be gone.
I no longer be keen to do constant adorn.
Those traitors shall be anxious to get back me,
but I shall not feel the same pace of glee.
I shall be celebrating my birthday without mourn.
Because till then I shall admit this that 'Winners Stands Alone.'
meaty limbs of oak -
august plumage aflutter
with draconic hiss
8/19/2019
Tree Themed Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
575 howmanysyllables.com
*august - marked by majestic dignity or grandeur