Best Peripatetic Poems
There comes a time,
in the early, but
not so early, morn
when, and this is key,
if a portion of an instant
rationed a morsel of a moment -
but a crumb of that fell free
and it cast a deep shadow
whose depths made mockeries
of spelunk;
which you may remember
you'd dreamt of in some past
life and, if from this minusculity
sprang, the littlest offspring,
a hint of a glance of,
a coup d'oeil
the last of day,
the half-remembered,
prior life
when, if you glimpse
the newborn gold,
your heart'll still,
your mind'll still
and yes, your stillness
be distilled into
stiller still
if your heart and eyes
don't again conspire
to draw your mind
to your routine
of first and, perhaps
only, taking in the
most of things
the highlights and the
canopy's myriad meanderings
the rootings at their footings
supposed but rarely seen
in dark, in secret but
carrying no wrong
rather though
in the tree trunks'
simple middle
for a briefest, gilted
eternity, the trees
will burn not from
their crown
nor from their feet
and, despite the ice,
the sparkless space,
the cold steel
darts of insistent
slanting rains,
the trees will burn,
the trees will burn,
and all-at-once
the peripatetic sun,
its whims having won,
will dance along
and share its breath
with everyone
The last mile of the way
It is a matter of must
To all and sundry,
Each and every man-jack
Has to walk it.
It is the real moment in deed
For one has to say, “Goodbye”
To those he loves.
One has to put down all his loads
And face the reality of time.
Blessed is the man
Who walks on camino real with the Lord.
Cursed is the peregrinator who peregrinate alone,
Who promenade Lordlessly.
The rich man blundered
To hell he was taken
For his life has been peripatetic and perfidious.
Confessions he tried
But confessions failed.
Remember, longest is the night
That is not followed by the day.
No matter how long the night
The day is sure to come.
With His cross on His shoulders
This mile the Lamb travelled,
Sinless and spotless the teacher was
And God the Almighty on His side He stood.
The impenitent Judas also travelled it
The mile was tough and dolorous
For his sins were accompanying him,
Suicide and sheol were his penultimate end.
Fight panophobia and euphorbia
With rectitude and optimism for heavenly opulence,
With clear conscience and faith in Him
Walk through the narrow door
Before the Master closes.
The writing is on the wall
“God shows no favouritism”
Let us travel this mile
With no wrinkle and spot
For this mile takes us
Into the hands of the Omniscious One.
Where our tears will be removed by Him,
Where there is eternal rest
Where there is no sorrows,
Neither death nor sicknesses.
Choked by the incense of poetic justice,
I volunteered to be slain for the betterment of humanity.
The paintings of my ink on white sheet were witnesses,
When in Abuja, I drew my poetic daggers,
Against a twin bomb blast that left separated Limbs of men bleed with acrimony.
Eyes wept with sympathy crawling down their cheeks
While our crown boast of a thousand solutions with no one in sight.
Poetic justice shall reign in Nigeria, I prayed
I handshake my communication god when it rang
And cling firmly my peripatetic poetic spirit,
To Didier's motherland, under the cloud of French stimulated Ivory,
I saw a goat-bearded-god mimic the suit of the stars and stripes.
And commands pagan's adoration of the sun upon his throne.
When scions of termites spit at the sight of our dead flesh.
I wept when hunger-lashed beggars’ union
Cling on my feet for one CFA franc.
Poetic justice shall reign in Ivory Coast, I prayed
Under strong loyalty to tyrannical whipping with merciless rod.
I saw my brothers drip blood from the scars of yesterday.
Should religious fundamentalists be blamed?
When a star, firmly crucified on a sickle moon,
Grind the 'holy cross' people of the south.
While the big brother stood akimbo and watch vultures poke our intestines.
The referendum at hand smells secession success on my screen.
I pray for poetic justice in Sudan, Africa and the whole world.
Who, or what, do you think you are?
A Bollywood star
A Turkish bazaar
An iron crowbar
A permanent scar
A late-model NASCAR
An all-night Delhi darbar
A cowardly lion, ala Bert Lahr
A late-night replacement for Jack Paar
A postage stamp from the territory of Saar
A scene from MASH featuring Jamie Faar
An imported Swiss candy bar
A peripatetic avatar
A native of Madigascar
A powerful drug czar
A tractor-driver from Navistar
A pro golfer who can't even break par
An empty peanut butter jar
An unwritten memoir
A smelly, old cigar
A boring academic seminar
An unidentified flying object on radar
A diplomat from Myanmar
A fancy antique boudoir
A hardy-har-har-har!
Prevarication permits pretend perception, presenting
piquantly piqued, pimply pimping playboy, plucky
pulchritudinous previously pusillanimous, prevalently
puckish, psychic packman, pokemon playing proletarian
puppeteer pygmy, peevishly punky, plummy, plumy,
pompously pushy, pampered, prefabricated pinchbeck,
pokily plying plowshear, plodding peregrination, pied
piper pitifully peppy pornographic potato pealing,
parsimonious paradoxical protagonist, proposing
preposterous panicky pacification plots, prioritization
pertinent penultimate peroration, perhaps perceiving
perjuring, perplexing, perverting puzzling pronouncements
projecting pulsating pixelated pulpy pinball pinging
packets prompting pacific, poetic, phlegmatic purplish
psoriasis plagued, plumbum pallor pallid, Paleolithic
protuberance pronounced, psychosomatic prohibitionist,
polarizing perfunctory peculiarly progressive, patriotic
postmodern pathologically proud paternal panache,
peripatetic panaceas portraying prescient perfidious
puerile president, predominantly proposing parochial
principles, plenty public parking, purposefully
promoting pharisee phalanxes, pilates practicing
paragons, perennially peaceably proficient protesters,
profitable polygamy, pugnacious pitbull powerball
players, pandering polyandry, propagating professional
palindrome pensive peeping people, peddling,
proselytizing predicating prostitution, proliferating
phenomenally, populist persona promulgated peyote
phased physicians pioneering prescription promoting
paradisiacal pricey photographic pictures, placating
phrenetic physical perturbation partaking place
purchased (paid paltry pennies) por palatial piazza.
AWAITING SNOWFLAKES
ALONE TAMPING BEATEN TRAIL IRREPRESSIBLY HEARTBROKEN
MENACING SKY TORMENT A PERIPATETIC DISENCHANTED SOUL
TEARY EYED SHE PONDERS FORSAKEN WISH LONG FORGOTTEN
COURAGE TRANSCEND DEFEAT AWATING SNOWFLAKES TO FALL
12/19/2013
2:54 p.m.
W.P.B Florida
I’m put upon to ponder the problem of poetry
& thus, I proudly or, perhaps, perfunctorily,
Ponderously pronounce with a preponderance,
Even a plethora, of p’s:
Poetry is pithy, prankish and perky,
Pertinent and impertinent, too
It’s prophetic, pathetic, pragmatic and proud
Poetry pretends, preaches, points out,
Points to, and down, and under
Poetry’s petals promise purity and peace
Poetry’s pristine, picky and pale
Poetry is practical, prudent, is pregnant,
Gives pause
Poetry’s precise, prayerful, powerful
Poetry’s presence is portentious and playful
Poetry’s a mosaic portrayal, a
Painted portraiture, perfect, profane
Prosaic, it is not,
Preposterous, it is
It is ponderous, political, porous, pontifical
Peripatetic and perennial,
Prescient, pedantic, possessive and puerile
Perfidious, perceptible, perplexing, perfectible
Poetry perseverates, preserves, perseveres
Sometimes perplexing, never perishable,
It pulses it prowls, it probes and it pries
Poetry is a perverse, precocious, pubescent prankster
It prances, and preens periwinkle plumage
In place of deep purple prose
A persuasive, peculiarly pleasant peacock,
Poetry promulgates poems!
Poetry, dear poet, exists
Poetry, dear poet, persists
Poetry, dear poet, persists and preoccupies
Poetry can never desist
Poetry perpetually propagates poems
And that
is the problem
with poetry…
Phew!!!
Pressing my peripatetic poetic spirit
I roamed the abode of technology
Where I spilled my poetic condolences, with company of tears,
To my friends in Japan
Whose brothers are forcefully accommodated,
In the large bellies of callous Tsunami and dreaded earthquakes.
How many oceans of sorry shall consume
The traumatic castle of agony erected in their souls?
Hugging my peripatetic poetic spirit,
I roamed the dried sands of Libya,
Where men are roasted by rage of military missiles
For demanding the dethrone of a pitiless demi-god
How many more heads shall be sacrificed for the crown of justice?
Handshaking my peripatetic poetic thoughts
I roamed through the petroleum abode of Middle East
I found Iraq ravaging by ecclesiastic of death
Where men are proud to die for a cause yet unknown
Poised by teaching of abstract fable theories,
They volunteer to be burnt with innocent multitude.
When will scions vampires taste the last drop of blood in Iraq?
Only the ONE behind the cloud knows!
For the contest:I roam
Yes
It happened again
When you walked away
Leaving me in this grave
All alone
After killing me softly
Silently blowing me away
From my elementary capacity
Just like that
You walked away
Taking with you my contentions
And leaving a weeping corpse
Dead twice
And buried thrice
In this unfair darkness
Waiting for what you do best
Bringing your soft wet breath
To a peripatetic soul
That lost control when you parted
From a heart that was craving for you
And took away the life that was
With your fragile lips that touched mine
Taking away my heart
Stealing my soul
Leaving me drowning
In the embrace
As you squeezed my life away
What can a dead man do
But wait for resurrection?
For you
To bring the most scintillating touch
With tenderness
That grieves the spirit to return to its course
As you warm my life again
With
A kiss of Life
the robin hops from the tips of the rose bush
spilling snow dust
sprinkling skeins of early dew
dusting with its uppity tail fan
a caterpillar
softly dousing concertina
then it trips up the clothesline
stops and grips it in its claws
sways and balances with its tail fanning out
chirps clucks tweets
and repeats itself
all the way down again
and up the scale
comes back once more to skip a note or two
and tumbles
sweeps past the old toy bicycle leaning against the wire fence
the claw marks hardly visible on the spray of frost-like snow on the balustrade
light ephemeral peripatetic
the dulcet flexions rising and falling on the tympana without breath of motion
or vibration
crisp colliding notes rising and falling
as the first tentative drops of drizzle before the rain
the robin gone to sing full throttle on wing
© T. Wignesan, Paris, 1997; from the collection: “Poems Omega-Plus”, Paris, 2005.
Shakespeare found nothing esthetic about peripatetic
Kazantzakis and Joyce found it maudlin, bathetic
Dickens and Dickinson thought it alarmingly phrenetic
I’d use the word in my poems, frankly it’s asyndetic*
_______________________________________________
*denoting the omission of a conjunction between two parts
of a sentence.
A known politician
Like the bed bug, they bite
Anything that comes their sight
Without being given the right
They are well known for earning more than a stipend
But they always fend
More than what they would spend
Like the weevil, they bore hole
Into the nations credit zone
So that they could be financially mellow
Like the peripatetic soldier ant
They walk down our girls pant
Without having for them a penchant
Like the African wasp, they sting
The decent girls that shun their ping
Because they know they have for them no ring
Like the green mantis
They send insurgents
To kill and crush our people in a blitz-Krieg
And pretend in their political vicarage
As if they are unaware of the carnage
Like the golden eagle, they have carte blanche
To fly around the world and eat a la carte
Without remembering that one day the court will visit their case
Like kite, they go to greater height
Without remembering there would be a night
That every movement will come to halt
And that day they will be starved for nights
And they will be left to fight to right
To bite the carrion in sight
And beg for their death to set
Revenant
Swept in a vortex of woes
a lone silhouette concede wailing
Voice distinctly stentorian
encompass to heal cerebral ailing
Mysterious entity furtively
shepherds a peripatetic revenant
Wilderness safeguard not forsake
sentient beings repentant
09/03/2016
3:52 a.m.
Aboard cruise ship:
Vision Of The Seas
Stages of life - Part 1
Begin with thinking !
Begin with thinking - there is no other way,
as it meanders along in that self-induced sway.
Go with the flow and resist not a moment,
staking doer-ship and onus, spares only a lament.
A journey that commenced without thy knowledge or will,
bloomed and blossomed in 'that' tranquil calm and still!
Emerges with a squeal, - perhaps a way to announce,
"here I am" hoping on my way out - I don't denounce!
'Institutional indoctrination' seems an order of the day,
attempts are made to learn on what to think on, in "time's way"!
Rarely does one stumble upon, "how to think on 'think'?"
Can inherited or borrowed knowledge sustain life in the pink?
Burden of imposed likes and dislikes - unabated as I grow,
laden weight - nudges and pushes for or against the flow.
If I think in the right course, I surge from past and ahead,
if allowed to dwell in - I will be drowning and by now 'dead'.
Mindless and thoughtless - first quarter of my life goes past!
Helpless and gasping to grasp some sense of all that was lost.
It's time to bury them as memories and to get down to gather,
peripatetic endless search, in this self-induced smother.
....Contd....as Part 2
Peripatetic movement impedes as I draw near to an atrocious condemned king
Probing him, in conceptualizing & equating potential
Composure rapidly decomposes, investigating potential future
Ever so sickening to these eyes, sluggish gags massage my throat
Am I to develop in any fashion of this creature?
Recuperating composure and ingesting gags peripatetic movement finds its place in
contemporary time
The words I articulate to such a fiend, “Hey dad, how’s it going?”