Best Phial Poems
Hiding in the trench in the French sand,
Indian Singh fights like a British soldier.
It seems it is the ending of the universe.
Dark curls of smoke rise up - cradles are
shattered, and buildings collapsed. Roar
of the war planes gobble all the shrieks
by the mothers and their mothers in a jiff.
Wounds play a sad raga on the strings in
the throats of some fallen military men.
Indian Singh seeks his sweet lady among
the golden corns in a Punjabi wheat field
during the horrible silent interval. A red
salwar kameez flutters in the day dream.
A sudden roar makes him raise his rifle.
Though he is Britain’s adopted son, he
fights for his new mother with true love.
She opens with a smile the creaking gate
to the ecstasy of reunion- soon this smile
is scattered like a phial in an explosion.
She waited for him with the same verve
for years and years in vain, until the earth
worms claimed her wrinkled body one day.
Thousands of memorial stones were erupted
here and there after the First World War, but
not a single stone remains to honor his valor.
(Winner poem on exhibition in Liverpool University, U K. It was also presented on Anzac Day at Auckland Museum,New Zealand. It also appeared in 'Selected Poems Anthology 2014 by Pendle War Poetry, U K)
Categories:
phial, war, universe, , memorial,
Form:
Free verse
Brownie broke her beak today
Purloining potted prawns
Despite Will’s whistled warning words
To only eat from lawns
But Brownie boldly battered
that toughened tin top jar
and broke her lovely beak in bits
she’d pushed her peck too far
but wily Will he had a way
to triumph testing trial
so searching for some Superglue
he produced a plastic phial
But Brownie fussed and fluttered
And Thang a tuneleth thong
Worried when Will wrapped it up
thseed thing her thong all wong
One dinky drop of adhesive
Fast fastening he found
Forever fixed his flailing foot
But stopped that thsquawking thound
Categories:
phial, funny
Form:
Rhyme
Volga – 4
to the homoeopathy phial
standing on the traffic-island
why it appears
within her womb
the number of germinated nights
stolen without a kiss
is too little
is then it true
if all the chanting of Harinam
can’t be withdrawn from the alcohol
the body-odour of the running tamarisk-shrub
will enter into the circuit-house
and that devouring of the parchment
brings to the feelings of the non-veg ant-hills
the let’s-go-cure
gathering in the sauce-island
Volga - 5
coming to this ironed canal-side
every auto-rickshaw
wants to know and let other know
the mystery
behind the rice-rain
from the cirrus
the shame in the eyes of the seal containing signs
supplies the whole-sale dealership
of the civil disobedience movement
to the locality
the role of the hammer also
wakes up early in the morning
to put under its own tongue
an antacid
is it possible that the spits
used in the observatory
be made a little more fast-moving
manuscript of the basement of a well
the biography of the pond-heron will be scripted
even-then the productivity of the merry-go-round
wouldn’t be uttered for a moment
no sir, such has never been expected
in the liquefied banana-blossoms
too many hot breads resulted from the season-change
continues to bat vehemently
and climbs to the peak of heart-throbbing runs
they in a group will go to the
aqua anetha of the mole hill
to organise a folk-song
to understand this
no arbitration of the cactus is required
notwithstanding
it is heard that the thread was pulled
by the violin of the wife of the moon-god
from behind the screen
here in the eye-front
is the basement of the morning-well
on its one page lies the faulty crow-caws
and on another some sun-shines
swinging on the hanger
after some pages in recurring …the chicken-pox … the boot-polish …
within the two covers of the dance-drama
also comes the creepers and herbs
grown around the melting point
of the arm-chair
whose legs are broken
if each pore on the skin of the river-lily
becomes so much known
then in the background of this low land
let us have one game more
Categories:
phial, fantasy
Form:
Prose Poetry
prize prised from glass phial
wondrous wanderings await
map scratched on parchment
purpose nigh fulfilled
past tall trees, ten paces North
what lies 'neath soft soil?
efforts reap rewards
cherished childhood toy unearthed
party game enjoyed
----------------------------------------
26th March 2017
For the "Vernal 2017" contest sponsored by Brian Strand.
Categories:
phial, birthday, childhood, fun, parents,
Form:
Senryu
A rural priest
rolls and throws out
the wedding mantras.
The ritualistic ululation
and the music of
a toot and drum
warm the monsoon up.
The bridal garland
like a noose
awaits a bride’s neck.
She bows her head
in rural Indian coyness.
Our groom learns to forget all
beside the glitz of dowry gold.
A burning wick
yields to the darkness
beyond the nuptial rhythms.
The froth of cheated love
runs down Miss Hema’s chin.
She is stranded on
the bluish eternity,
along with the pressed
love in her womb.
An opened phial lies
on the floor of a hut,
showing its void up.
First appeared in print in Rathalla Review, 2014 Annual Issue
Categories:
phial, lost love, marriage,
Form:
Free verse
Reflection in a Phial
I look at my hands they are brown as a farmer`s, this pleases me,
although, I have no land to plough, a tractor or a mule,
a workman`s sturdy hand; all socialists should have hands that
have harvested potatoes or carrots.
I flex my muscles of my upper arms, see a faint movement
like a mouse moving under thawing spring snow.
Glorious vanity I used to do hundred press- ups, a day in the hope
to look strong and furious. I think of sex sadly I wasn`t any good
at it, after the act, I looked for a book to read.
The squalid side of life has always mystified me, why does
a person chooses a path that leads moral disgrace and ruin?
I have always been lazy, strenuous effort will not touch me,
but I would like to pull up a few more carrots
Categories:
phial, bird, birth, birthday,
Form:
Blank verse
IMP-EACH-MENT-AIR-DITTY III !
Holy Smoke ! Odour of incense on Beach !
Trainers marched with saddles to straddle Leech !
« SILENCE ! » Dull as Thunder !
« Under pain of locker ! »
Grave mist hung low on Life-Savers each !
CJOTUS kept clock arms for each to preach
Who summoned Founding Fathers onto Beach !
« This race is no Trial !
Draw horse blood in phial !
Drink ! » said Chief Life-Saver Nation to teach !
Coast-Guard in Cloak-Rooms begged bets to reach
The magic number to put to sleep Teach
« Hold back horses until
All bets are in the till !
I’ll let none throw law-books on my Leech ! »
Indicted Jockey rode-off bareback on Leech !
To save face while saddled Life-Savers preach:
« No Nuts ’n Bolts-on, please !
This fake Trial must cease ! »
Come November who’ll lose this race on Beach ?
(c) T. Wignesan, Paris, January 29, 2020
Categories:
phial, america, character, political, power,
Form:
Limerick
A goodbye long
overdue I bid,
Whispered from a
carcass long picked
bare,
Like screams, across
the desert of the
grotesque heart,
You're sentenced to
an eternity of
despair,
I implore, do not
allow your loathing,
To fill your phial
once marked
"disinterest",
For what manner of
man,
Or beast,
Or spirit,
Could endure such
tantalizing,
transient tortures?
How can I hold brief
what my soul yearns
to keep,
A smile on my face,
that aches to weep?
Stand tall and
proud, spit
banalities;
As I drop to my
knees,
To scream the
ignominy of reality,
Death-so black, so
beautiful;
Though not so much
as you,
Pity me once,
With the dagger of
your dark radiance,
Make me beautiful
too,
The end makes us all
beautiful,
But never so
beautiful as you,
Categories:
phial, beauty, dark, death, emo,
Form:
Rhyme
O you, the definition of beauty
my eyes only know
and I, the book of gaiety
your feelings only fathom.
I don’t feign to say
what we know about lovers
ask these deaf resonant walls
their echoes have much to say.
Against which many crashed their heads
attire fully drenched in tears
but dumb were all the speakers
and blind were all the seers.
Ask all the locked doors
ask those closed sanctums
in which many slept forever
with a poison phial laid aside.
The water slid from their eyes
on the pages of myth and history
accounted the abstruse story
of a short human life.
Ask those daggers and rapiers
that tore many dry throats
and lacerated the noble feelings
of many wet and innocent hearts.
Nevertheless they cannot elucidate
the reason behind this torrent
because they don’t fathom the tongue
the tongue that love speaks!
Categories:
phial, feelings, heartbroken,
Form:
Blank verse
the weight of tears
for ten thousand years
more
the earth has wept
through women’s eyes
salted seas run with the moon
in tidal floods and pools
left high upon the shore
deserted
the tears of oceans captured
in scarred rock bowels
a woman washed in blue
sits beside a stranded pool
weeps liquid stars
into a crystal phial
she saves the weight of sorrow
in a silver capped vial
deep the rivers run
in shadowed places
they carve arteries and veins
carry secrets drop by drop
forming stalactites and stalagmites
of misery or joy
tears drown
weigh heavy on the chest
shatter mountains
carve and coruscate the soul.
Categories:
phial, allegory,
Form:
Free verse
A STUDY IN VIOLET
This treasure house of objets d’art
Littered with plots and storylines
A room encrusted with jewels of history
Inviolate – and undisturbed.
Over there, a military tunic
Blue – and in such fine condition.
Pale lapels perhaps too remote or innocent
Of its vile ‘let them have it’ past.
Here, an abandoned symphony
Black notes pebbledash the page.
Written for that ancient violin, no…
Viol. Late Belle Epoch I think.
That leather book I recognise
An ancient asset register.
And with such work of reference
Identify - a little more.
A philtre or monk’s cure perhaps.
Or poison, used to sway an empire.
Something forensic science may analyse
This phial – let it keep its secret.
Here, a scroll. Homeric tragedy?
Greek, according to the words.
Those old strange symbols, faded now
A ‘Phi’ or letter ‘P’ – I’m sure.
I cannot touch nor be considered
A robber, loose in a dusty tomb.
Caught in the torchlight, gold in hand
Say ‘Fie!’ – or let him go.
This treasure is too much for anyone
To really own. To hide away.
Bequeathed to me but never really mine.
Something Auntie Violet always knew.
Categories:
phial, analogy, character, missing you,
Form:
Free verse
A dying man was gasping for air
He asked a nurse if she had some to spare
She breathed into a little phial
And with a smile upon her dial
She said how much will you pay
My phial of breath may save your day
A quiet voice from way up high
Spoke to the nurse and asked her why
She had wanted payment for her breath
When her patient was so near death
Suddenly, she heard a sound
Of soothing music all around
She looked at the dying man's face
And noticed that there was no trace
Of worry lines or wrinkles there,
He seemed to rise from his bed
A cosy pillow lay under his head
The nurse was awe-struck and gave a scream
Praying to awaken from this dream
Still holding her phial of breath.
Categories:
phial, 10th grade,
Form:
Rhyme
All words and wonder, wobbling copper green
Foam and guano floating
In the sea cave’s lee
A flock of gannets raucous on a rocky pile
And the ever-growing echo as the men came by
Climbed from the boat
And dragged it from the water
Bare feet on painful pebbles relieved by sand
And, at the back of the cave, they dug on their knees
Scooping with their hands
A tiny purple phial was found, ancient and Phoenician
The granite stopper plucked
And, instead of a salty seaweed smell,
An oozing, resinous scent
From the darkness of consciousness
A rose and orange essence
Though not exactly a smell
Rather a panorama of far-off painted and planted secret messages
Kiss-kept by a woman
The tinkle of her bangles upon her wrists and ankles still
Echoed in the cave as if the lady was there
Her glancing eye gripped one cold
The press of her heel as she posed before dance
The burst of laughter with friends
Admiring her pencilled eyebrows and plum-blushed lips
Hips and elbows endearingly tipped
She leant forward and whispered into the traveller’s ear,
All words and wonder:
“Find me some ambergris and bring it to Arabia
Find me some ambergris to perfume my breasts
Find me some ambergris and bring it to my tent.”
Categories:
phial, adventure, dream, love, magic,
Form:
Free verse
The phone number of death we dial,
When we near a poisoned phial
To rashly swallow its content,
And actualize a suicidal intent:
Our breathing soon in wheezes,
What the cemetery richly pleases,
A gripping of our tummies in feeble resistance
Every offered revival, vain assistance
Others to start rehearsing their goodbye
To us on a wished hearse lie
And the same phone number we try,
As we enrage folks that skin fry
Before advancing cops of pity dry
And into claims of being surrounded not pry
To pick their life sentence with smiles wry…
Now that I’ve said so I shan’t cry.
Categories:
phial, death, evil, sorrow, suicide,
Form:
Rhyme
Once more my hand clasps the vial,
trembles with its crystal cold.
my heart craves the ruby liquid within
and so once more I bring it to my lips
and drink the fiery torrent to the last
Once more my dark room dissolves
fading into nothingness
as I fly to that familiar door
and so once more I enter realms of light
and revel in the freedom that world brings
Once more my mind's unburdened
from the demons therein dwell
for here they are entombed in cruel cages
and so once more I hear their anguished cries
and laugh at my tormentors agony
Once more my soul knows solace
albeit temporary
the fiery torrent returns to its source
and so once more I'm cast back to my woe
and resume my pitiful existence
until once more I can clasp
the phial that holds peace within
Categories:
phial, angst, blue, dark, deep,
Form:
Verse