Best Ruptures Poems
I keep coming back
as if, one day, I'll find
the illusive angle,
that moment of perfect alignment
when the river, the clouds,
the trees and all
that is manifested
will break open and reveal
what is really there,
when what holds everything
together ruptures
and spills forth the sublime.
I get a sense of it sometimes
at dawn when the sun
breaks through the clouds
in a blinding burst of light
and in the quiet of evenings
when a birdsong pierces
the forest with sound so pure
it seems to open a gash
in time before closing
over in a sad covering
of silence. I am granted
only glimpses as if more
would be too much
for me, composed as I am
of stuff made of this world,
its blunt chemistry.
another typical day, with feet on the ground
ordering the hedge to meet my image of trim
many measured bits fall before the cutting edge
casual thoughts detach, is there anybody in ?
then some mental inner disturbance jangles
with corresponding jig, nerves rip in deeper
following the run of a stalk, the hang of a sprig
so prune the untidy and unwelcome creeper
movement to the side of my eye is caught
something is scared, behind dense vegetation
the fast beating breast of a baby brown bird
frantic flutter flash, demented aggravation
descends to the pavement in fear driven escape
panic ruptures in flood from a half sliced-off wing
chest partly open, feathers flecked red with blood
cupped warm in my hand, young life does cling
grim realisation, fledgling with no hope
pressure leaking, ebbing from a dying heart
but then our eyes meet, answers it is seeking
where's my mum, when can my flying lessons start?'
the deed is now done, the light that shone has gone out
just the salt of my tears at this horrible juncture
the killing of one hundred and fifty million years
and this clumsy ape's evolutionary puncture
undiluted guilt, too much concentration to bear
to forgive and assuage, soothing rational thought
replacement anger and even more depressing rage
bombs target children when careless wars are fought
imagine that child, in screaming terrified terror
in mortal trouble, reduced to core instinct base
an external world has turned your home into rubble
where's my mum, why can't I see her familiar face?'
Implant within me a seed monthly, though the pulverization derides me. Let it conjure hope and solace to shatter my reality as venomous weeds entwine it, sickening me as I lay still in the liquid birthed from my own fruit. Implant within me a seed; let the feral roots ensnare it, suffocating my every breath and cell until it ruptures--obliterated within my frail and aching tree. It be destined to return but stripped of the avant-garde its predecessor once possessed. Implant within me a seed; it’ll part for months, leaving my psych mangled as blood seeps through trypophobic perforations crafted solely by its hand. The seed, thriving as I decay, renders its final blow the day we die. Implant within me a seed; force it into a sanctum where it does not belong, and let fate, warped and distorted, contort my marred soul. That which I once refused to acknowledge shall now delude my senses, forcing me to reach for those who feel not love but only pity for my aberrant roots. Implant within me a seed; let me perish within its absence, yet perpetually suffer under its presence. Wound me with my own creation.
Your end creates you
It will return to rip you
Plant it, watch it die
‘Anger is one letter short of danger.’
Excess of it, our life can endanger.
Anger when grown into aggression and violence,
Works in vicious ways and is a great malaise
It fosters hatred and ruptures many hearts,
Angry words can wound and pierce like darts.
But Anger becomes a sublime emotion,
If we know how to handle it without explosion.
It becomes sometimes so constructive,
Quashing the fallacy that anger at all costs is disruptive.
Many a time it has proved so positive.
And sometimes it turns very productive.
When anger is turned against situations
And not against people aiming at their degradation.
It enables us to rectify the discrepancies,
Through our resentment to change the disparities.
It fuels us with the energy to voice against injustice.
Bringing solutions to the voiceless in their crisis.
But never let anger consume your heart and soul.
It sure will take a mighty toll.
When anger bubbles and boils, catch the cue.
Wait a minute before the fire devours you.
As humans, we are likely to lose our temper.
But remember, to it, never surrender!
Holding a long-standing. grudge,
Is like having an unerasable smudge.
It will always leave a stain,
And lead us to irrepressible pain.
However, it is not advisable to suppress anger,
It can lead to irreparable danger.
But remember, when emotions of hatred are let loose,
There is hardly any chance for a truce.
A person under violent rage
Is like a prisoner in a cage.
Anger, more often is a negative emotion.
Landing us in violent commotion.
Anger against people steals all our energy,
But when it aims at solutions, it enhances synergy.
When angry, forgetting all decorum, one may shout.
Don’t let your resentment thoughtlessly blurt out.
Never let the tongue make a tempestuous tirade.
Tackle this tiny tab of tissue and tame its blade!
Love should only ever kindle the present and the future. Not the past…
Primarily, I am second.
For I have placed others on similar platforms
Made of charred cedar and revamped memories
Unintentionally
It is not intent that we embrace, but the end result.
Good, brief.
Bad, seared.
Branded
I hang my smile on half-mast remembrance,
The elaborate touch of yesterday’s smile
Forgotten
And days go by
Where cryptic anger holds me dear
Because my identity becomes nothing more
Than a discarded 140 characters
Yet, this handsome error
Will still smile through the equally equivocal flaws
Of others
We are a marathon running on seismographic parallels.
Faults, unbecoming
Faults, embedded
One-sided
Expiration, denied
The pricelessness of my heart, cost overridden
Perhaps it has become the only option
To keep love’s punishment, subdued
While songs of psychic animosities,
Lay judgment on unawareness’ smile
It is not easy to reach wanton goals,
While attempts to (mind) read incoming ruptures
Incorporate 50% success rate
We stumbled when we ran yesterday.
We will stumble when we walk today.
We shall stumble upon the sunrise & sunset of tomorrow.
Why couldn’t you just hold my hand when we fall?
…
I am, Error.
One day, I will become a candle in the wind
Extinguished
Will the winds upon angel’s wing
Be guided by those same smiles
Tossed into amnesia’s similar gust
©D.J.E.
often
daydreaming
the ripe figment
of imagination
ruptures
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Cinqku Poetry Contest
Sponsor Charles Messina
Placed 2nd
© 21st April 2020
She asks me,
from a sense of curiosity
commandeering the comfort of her heart,
like clouds spilling a thousand secrets,
How are you feeling...
I want to suffer alone tonight...
But you can't be alone,
you have Me...
I just need the echo of darkness tonight...
But you can't be alone,
You have me...
I just need the echo of darkness tonight...
I can be your darkness...
You're so beautiful,
even in the darkness...
Just stay with me...
I want to stay with you...
What upset you,
tell me my Love...
I just want quiet pain tonight...
I love you...
I will see you in the dawn my Luv...
A love trauma storm
has begun to soak my splitting soul
with a million volts of ageless ache,
memories of innocence voicing exuberance
pulses of naivety needing nothing more
than a simple vibrant kiss
on a virgin nerve,
being struck by the shock
of multiple hearts held in one avericious hand,
experiencing vein ripping rage,
learning that divided loyalty
is a lip smack lasceration
that can only be stitched by tears true,
and lonely moments soothed by gratitude
gaslit into a nausea that ruptures
the rock of devotion into a wilting will,
I have known both faces of love,
the one that makes the heart of a Man
a fortress of flame and a beast of lust,
and the one that makes a Man
the sword of a rogue warlord,
I also know that love is a monster
of awesome appetite relentless,
love will devour you to the bone,
and that love will resurrect you
from despair seemed certainty,
Through my conquest of internal confliction,
I have realized as rain in free fall,
that love is a conviction in real heartbeat,
a love ethic raw on the tongue of Time,
that the purpose of passion
is not to please you
but to preserve you,
to make meaning of your eyes,
We choose our conflicts
as desire chooses a target,
I'll be your target as long as you set me on fire,
let's not make love a battle between
the subjective and the objective,
let's make it an inviolable truth alive today,
let's say goodbye to expectations
and to judgements rude,
let's just love one another with pure intent,
no conflict, no prediction,
no hesitation from hell,
My Luv, it's now dawn,
embrace me as Venus to flesh renewed,
I am your truth of wild taste,
and I your touchstone of life,
together we are poetry in primal ink...
J.A.B.
... in the quiet moments
Love enters the arena
to no applause
yet, it is clearly seen
pushing through the ceiling
the entire world crumbles
at Love’s feet
it is a giant cyclops
one eye on everything
it is heard in the heart
felt in the mind
a contradiction
where old dreams
split at the seams
the meaning of it all
unmeasured,
deeper
than the deepest sea
you'd walk across an ocean
for Love,
a universe contained
in the playing
of a thumping organ
keeping time eternal
like a stop watch
with no pause
like there will be
no tomorrow
Love stands its
territory in wars
like a god
and its legions
then,
following conquest,
holds you firm
in its arms
under silken covers
of dark night,
Love follows
you in your dreams
you cannot see it
but somewhere
behind the everchanging
cast of characters morphing
all together, and miraculously,
like only a harmless savant could,
you sense it, in you,
hibernating then
waking live, electric,
something so complex
is remarkably
simple, common,
the breadth of a life
like a small room
implodes
the expanse
ruptures dimensions
and all angels
above and below
lose their feathers
all shining and tarnished
halos gone bedlam
in the quiet moments
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Lark...
ascending
Hurt hidden corrodes
Ruptures lives
Alters futures
All the DNA I allowed myself understand
remained silent within
All the ruptures I wished to shout, illuminate
All that I paid with pain and grew in peace
remained testimony in my dreams
I sing melodies that carry graces
profound from so much sage pain
full of nightmares from truthful pathways
with small deaths
in the iridescent aurora
and retrogression to infinite twilight
The volcano sets the fire calmly
forsaken in the loneliness of time.
Seething, the hot flames lie quiet
swirling until the day it ruptures
and explodes, the fire spreading
to cover the mountain.
This day is not as a day of anger
but of the divine unleashed carrying
us forward as the flames define our
path. I am not lost only feeling the
heat from this unspoken fire.
For I am fragile and the volcano's
power is all consuming.
Silence not just opposite of voice
More of ear turning deaf to outside noise
Close ears to outside din
And hear subtle murmur within
Listen Heart beats in rhythm and rhyme
No music composer can beat the music divine
Listening same beats for sometime
Makes one slip in meditation anytime
One drops BODY then MIND falls
Weightless, thoughtless Light one feels
Slip one may in trance
Levitation one may experience
Eternal Bliss engulfing
As if in Heaven surfing
Longevity of blissful state, on practice depends
Veteran or amateur, sooner or later it ends
Silence ruptures, clamour overtakes whisper
Bliss vanishes, pang emerges
One day sound fails to impact hearing sense
That is when one is laid into permanent Silence
Silence of graveyard not just opposite of cry in maternity ward
More of listening to death than speaking of life as trump card
Silence not just opposite of voice
More of dropping body dead, aligning life suiting soul's choice
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
© Hitendra Mehta
For Poetry Soup Contest
April 2011
( this is my way to bring out what i see and what i object to ... the happenings in the state of Goa )
When strange lands begin to unfold
And pathways commence to get green and fold
All the thoughts we held up in hope
Now gone up in smoke
Please stand up with me!!
(to the real estate mafia.. not all builders)
When the naked tunes of glum hilarity fill up the air,
The cacophony of eight notes in the eardrums blare,
All the thoughts we held up in hope
Now gone up in smoke
Please stand up with me!!
( the many bhavans and academys)
When the scribbling on the wall,
Will be the last call
All the thoughts we held up in hope
Now gone up in smoke
Please stand up with me!!
(a portion of the fourth estate)
When the ageless form will break up the glass,
Seven years of bad luck will come in en mass
All the thoughts we held up in hope
Now gone up in smoke
Please stand up with me!!
( to some of the so called environmentalists)
When the sky will not itself clear
Our sights will be blinded to long way from here
All the thoughts we held up in hope
Now gone up in smoke
Please stand up with me!!
(To some of the politicians of goa)
When the worms crawl out of the torn can
Brain drains itself and ruptures itself like a self destruct plan
All the thoughts we held up in hope
Now gone up in smoke
Please stand up with me!!
( the traitors who under value Goa)
When the cold from the ice,
Will itself pay the price
All the thoughts we held up in hope
Now gone up in smoke
Please stand up with me!!
(the bars, shacks, hotels who overcharge to make a fast buck )
When the ore form the Goan mines,
Will persuade the lawmakers the rules to redefine
All the thoughts we held up in hope
Now gone up in smoke
Please stand up with me!!
( the suffering middle class & the people depending indirectly on mining )
All the thoughts we held up in hope
Now gone up in smoke
Please stand up with me!!
( People of Goa)
It is dark and night outside my window,
and in the soundless, lit confines of my
room I sit at my old, ivory desk
cheerless
and anxious with dread for what the rest
of another night may bring.
My ostomy bag, an abhorrent creature that
hugs precariously on one side of my abdomen,
covers my raw and fleshy stoma underneath.
Against my desire, the stoma continually oozes
feces and waste
like a sewer into the ostomy bag, which,
every seven days or so ruptures its seal
and transforms into
a stinking and rancid cabbage
whose fetid odor refuses to stop emanating
until the entire, offensive beast is immediately
uprooted from my body.
So, I sit at my ancient, ivory desk, writing
these cherry-picked words to express
the anxiety and the doldrums
of another night;
and the lonely, isolating, embarrassing, humiliating,
ego-wiping, self-esteem killing, mind-numbing,
soul-shattering, universal, all-embracing,
omni-present
stench
that weekly offends my nostrils and fills my lungs
because of a thoroughly used-up ostomy bag that
needs to be removed immediately
like an old, decaying vegetable
that has outlived its
freshness—
It is another cheerless night in the same, old
cheerless space:
the nose-blistering smell, however, is only for
another night....
Every reason equates to both the truth or curtains.
Within the visible light of mind, unveil the blurriness or shade it for certain.
Emotions are as true as the hands that caress it.
The speech that moulds it and the yearning to believe it.
Yet this world seems as corrupt as the mind who sees it.
The darkness that envelops the thought, was taught and trained.
Unknowingly and guided by hands that only crave Power.
Dig in deep in the dissolution of thoughts and bind it with the warmth of Heart's embrace.
Shed the layers of forced ideas and institution and break free the shackles of this illusion.
Or brace the smoke of despair that entrapped the lungs and leave life gasping for air.
Just to survive or let die in hopes that this hardship and lies are forgotten with death.
Released from the burden of life's grasp.
The choke of life that threatens all in a single minute wraith.
That will forever alter our destiny and our path.
Do you know how I got these scars?
I was broken and battered.
Not by swords wielding battles.
No armies that conquered.
Just mere words and pictures that keeps me in shackles.
Every moment, a distinct invention of a monster.
Invoked into my being by images of societal ruptures.
Creating me into something unholy, those taunters.
Like a carcass, advertise me as meat for vultures.
I felt I was branded with faults, discarded by burning.
I felt I was tainted with salt, distasteful and disconcerting,
I feel I am as they visioned me to be, obese, ugly and demeaning.
I felt I was. I feel I am. Believing thus revealing.
Unknown and invisible, I hexed this insecurity.
Unwise and inaudible, perplexed within me.
Unfair and implausible, indexed unworthy.
Until no end, this forbids me to be a part of society.
Do you know how I got these scars?