Best Venerated Poems
Last night I wandered past your total disregard
And walked forlorn
Stark insecurity amplified
Still I walked , my usual forebearance uncomplied
Upon furthermost the distance between us elongated
The sustenance of forgotten stores inside me generated
I was venerated - nay subjugated
Of these morsels congregated
And fed me through those inkblack nights
In dewfall of the quiet
Inside unheard the rebel riots
As my breath became a billion
As my fears that I embraced
Loosed themselves and fearing fled
Melting in the murky bellows
Did I find my standing there...
Naked but for meekness laced
Forgotten was my fear
I needs you dId not anymore
Nor your disregard this doggone day
Not dejected as before
Only sin has me surrounded
And soon encircled dissappears,decays
Unclothed in limped insignificance
Nothing said ...
So still your body lies
Now I’m ninety solar masses and I grow as I accrete
all the inter-stellar gasses near my neighbors when we meet.
My doctor says I’ve grown too fat too fast, “… it’s unsustainable!”
But I’ve big plans for a big blast that I know is attainable:
I’ll do the Supernova Bossa Nova, watch me when I blow.
Let’s do the Supernova Bossa Nova and host a cosmic show
for galaxies both near and far, a dazzling dance display,
and I’ll blow a smoke ring where we are here in the Milky Way.
My hydrogen will all have fused and soon I will implode,
that's inward, I’m an introvert, but watch my shell explode.
My core will keep on shrinking ‘til a blackhole is created,
a wormhole linking to a world where dance is venerated.
We’ll do the Supernova Bossa Nova, watch me when I blow.
You can blame the Bossa Nova but let’s all enjoy the show!
July 4, 2020
For the “You are a star Poetry Contest” sponsored by Nina Parmenter (First Place)
Living Truth
Ancient guides of venerated truth
Stumble through numb spiritual graveyards
Where truth casts its shadow in chiseled words,
A signature of affection,
On moss bathed alabaster stones that once
Gleamed in treasures of veracity,
Autographed insights of the ancient sages
Screams out the litany of wisdom
Then begs, like balm, the insomniac unconscious heart
To intone a resurrection,
A living trove of living verbs in action
Breaking from the bondage of a chrysalis redecorated
With raw promises to shake off stagnation,
Relight the lantern star of the eternal spring’s veracity
Springing into actions that rise from stone inertia
Insight’s revelation releases a new song of songs
Truth that lives anew –
That propels the quest of new a-ha’s
That plants new reasons for renewed actions
In the waiting heart embraced.
5-3-22
Contest: Our Truth
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
1st Place Our Truth
How fondly he recalls when doting moon stared
Blush of her radiant smile gleamed opaline skies
While cuddling stellar vibes love they declared
And embracing her allure he venerated his prize.
In womb of romantic night passions-grand aired
Exchanging fervent vows, longing dawn of sunrise,
When revealing prurience every intention bared
In rhapsodic titillation euphoric feelings surmise.
Alas! soon emotions hid—dispiritedly impaired
When blissful times saddened hearing her cries
As souls, deceptively beguiled, no longer cared,
Silence between them grew stoking sullen guise,
For rise of whimsical day, woefully unprepared,
Shadowed glamorous arc, deeming fate unwise,
And upon sanguine horizons stygian storms flared
As the pledges of forever, destiny chose to revise.
She pleaded to forget the love they once shared,
Its flame was extinguished by whim of disguise;
Dreams they dreamt could no longer be repaired
Once the spark of aspirations abandoned her eyes.
Suppressions of emotions left them bereft, unpaired,
As lovelorn inhibitions roared, to spell their demise
Exiting prized fervor, forsaking dreams unrepaired,
Trapping unrequited love-vibes where passion dies.
May 10, 2022
Placed 1st: Pick-A-Title, Vol 30 – Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title Chosen: Internal Inhibition
Spring tantalizingly unfolds vernal, winsome
Blossoms of lilies pristine, undulating to appease
Fawning nectar-dreams adrift on wings of bees
Frolicking tranquility of rustling flowering trees
Refulgent summer, too, unpacks variegated
Revelry on rivers, oceans, flamboyant meadows
As ubiquitously nature paints blooms primrose
On hills and valleys oscillating jubilant shadows
Autumn’s brilliance courts dazzling ebullience
Of mellowed sun scintillating eventide’s ruby glow
Where gamboge leaves of fall amber winds blow
As passions of romance vie moonlit stellar show
Snowfalls titillate, unveiling vehement winter
In eyes of lovers ruminating in blessings of yore
When enticing beats of hearts indulgently implore
Aesthetic glacial memories venerated evermore
July 31, 2021
Placed 1st: Alpha lines poetry contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Placed 1st: A Brian Strand Rhyme Contest
When I’m enticed by the allure of forever,
Ambivalent, I query, prospect of eternity:
If there’s no dying, what fate’s my destiny?
Would such existence be sans meaning?
Would I be the compassion of pious soul
If I am blessed with permanence of life,
Or a deathly tomb of a heartless stone
Dispassionately ignoring wounds of strife.
Having been spared of inevitable death
Will I become an arrogant tyrant’s shrill,
Or will I rule alike a kingdom of goodwill
Embracing venerated grace of cordiality.
Would I be a garden of spring blossoms
Or scorched landscape of barren desert,
Would I be a resplendent autumnal show
Or decaying rot of woes in wintry throes.
Would I be a night of nightingale’s song
Invoking themes of endearing dreams,
Or would I be echo of horrid nightmares
Howling in dawn of things gone wrong.
Immortality, I fear, will lure me ignobly,
If not a mortal, unknowable I would be;
But for transience, would humble life be?
If not for dying, would precious living be?
April 23, 2022
Placed 1st: If I were Immortal Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
I am a human in Life
willing to walk
what life grants of paths
with a heart full of chambers
of huge space
allowing each smile
each tear
to set their load on my face.
I believe in the knight
a visitor of dreams
a dweller of nights
dreams that roam a world
of their own
no room for a danger zone
no words would contain
their very tone..
I am a human in Life
I have faith
in what my soul could feel
despite a thousand miles
and the grief I could see
behind the smiles
and understand what I didn’t
get through
and still be there
for the human in you..
I am a human in Life
the world to me
is not just one
and one of them
off the frame of time
no sense of logic
would find a rhyme..
One world
that evaded the capture
of the word..
freed from any bond
an entity nestling
in each brook and pond
within the tune of Nature might
though extreme is the fright
the wonder of a huge vast ocean
is infinite..
I am a human in Life
I entrust every throb of heart
to my solid soul
arid is not my land
rather open and able to expand
with every drop of Love
you would pour on my Land..
I am a human in Life
grateful to Love
for allowing me to learn
how to be of worth
how to comprehend and grow
and how to bond with souls
my beauty to them I owe..
I am a human in Life
grateful to the word
for allowing me to weave my world
the world of poetry
how venerated and adored!.
Unassailable purity, a cognition divine of venerated mind,
Proffers promise inviolable, beneficence sacred aligned,
With force invincible emanating from goodwill of heart
Forming precepts impeccable, teachings benevolent impart.
Purity of thought and action~ a worthy and righteous goal,
Resounds indomitable from kindred voice of resolute soul;
A heavenly call of compassion, extolling sanctity of love,
Lifting tenor of gloomy dawns~ soothing refrains of dove.
Unassailable purity in life, a road map of directions to hope,
Sacrosanct are its valiant acts, vowing ceaselessly to cope,
Performing with mighty resolve, deeds inducing pride;
Serving humbly as invisible hand of irreproachable guide.
Assisting destitute is the sermon, tolling bells of prayer,
Beckoning the weary, indigent, to shelter and welfare;
Comforting grief of despair with words enlightened, aware,
Consoling cry of nothingness, bequeathing love and care.
It exemplifies within her selfless smile, purity of her eyes,
Reassuring her children, bliss of mother’s love never dies;
Its rectitude unassailable, eternal as the reign of time,
A gift precious, paramount to life~ ethereal and sublime.
* For Carol Brown's Story Time Contest
Feathered serpent was more than an Aztec legend
Depicted in multihued native art
Sculptures, paintings adorned humid cities
Spiritual sketches messages impart
Quetzalcoatl, a venerated god
Plumed leader was said to have sailed away
Prophecies forecast this spirit’s return
Devout Aztecs’ hopes soared one Holy Thursday
The Aztec natives knew no greed
Great joy spread quickly in the Yucatan
When eleven Spanish ships reached their land
Not Quetzalcoatl, just a European man
Aztec leader Moctezuma II believed
Hernando Cortez to be their long-awaited god
At Moctezuma’s command, bounties were gathered
And to the shore, joyful natives did plod
1519, the Cortez armada
Greeted by Aztec envoys bearing gifts
But Spaniards fired shots at their welcoming party
Pious souls ascended through tropical mist
The land-grabbing perpetrator’s intent revealed
Aggression from one who sought to conquer
Paying no heed to Moctezuma’s beliefs
Or the spiritual history of Aztec culture
Ungodly Cortez enslaved those who remained
Defiantly built cathedrals adorned by bells
Aztec spirits will rise on Judgment Day
To claim seats in heaven while Cortez endures hell
If “gods” without honor lack kind hearts
And advocate power instead of grace
Promoting war and killing of brethren
Then surely devotion has been misplaced
*The arrival of Hernando Cortez marked the end of a thriving Aztec culture. The natives
mistook him for a “god” named Quetzalcoatl who had sailed away promising to return.
Quetzalcoatl is pronounced ket-zel-cot-el.
Tragedy is never a sentiment for Time
For it is a phenomenon she merely sees
She pours forth abundance for all that behold her
Even for those of us that scold her
And for naught she was cursed from the beginning
There she is—interminable Time at the fullest!
And we all envy her ever-ringing constancy
She rules over our hearts
Keeping stress in our spirits
Not once does she feel sorry for us
Nor is she indifferent of our failures
She begs not for gratefulness
And accepts who she is with joy!
How ample we would be if we
Like she—were free of trepidation
If only we be like her waters—clear and visible from top to bottom
Filled with untainted approval
What fools we must seem to such a pure jewel as Time
But ah, she is both heartless and kind
And though we hate her peculiar aura
Oh how hard it is do tear her from our minds!
How stressfully beautiful Time is!
Like a wink of venerated bliss
She smiles and smiles
And our ironical faces feel like grime
Still she laughs in mirth
While the world becomes a ball of putrid hatred
Wanting more and more of her
And positively hating her
We that cannot see her began to hate
For we are as visible and low as can be
And we acknowledge her merely to insult her
Though she takes no pang to the chest
For the only gifts we give in return for herself are pangs
That she simply returns to each sender
Hidden is our pride
But ever placed
Ever unhidden
Is our inscrutable mortality
And this humiliation of our unchangeable fates
Makes us want to humiliate the more fortunate
Thus we regard her only as a concept
As a fraction of a belief—a bellowing ideal
For of course Time cannot in our honey-glazed eyes
Think, eat, drink or feel
We use her—yes! Even abuse her
Not once will she complain
For her gift is everlastingness
The Tear Collector
Tears they fall, sometimes bless-ed
In their burning
Watered reminders of a hearts capacity
To connect emotions
Soft welling they sting
And find their language of wet lashes
Run their courses
As ancient rivers carve their way
Through stone barriers
Tears collected vanish in vanquished aches
Evaporate to silence
Leaving their mark, their fragrance
Breathed in the molecules dispersed
Cut to the edges of wishes
Images of longing
Hearts slowly breaking in two
Still holds you
Weep for you
I do
Behind the hard choke rasping and sobs
Moans sniffling for a beauty
Both found and lost
Delivered Jesus to red rimmed eyes
That see beyond and into the sanctity of pain
It cried; I; not for myself
But for you, for her, the rest of the world
Broken by innocence
And ignorance
The heaving heavy chest digs its well of sadness
In slow counted beats of blood
Grief for love
With these sickles gouged deeper to the flaws
And spread their knowing further
Into the fathoms of your soul
Tears; the reflections of venerated smiles
Become the augury of responses
Of sight pierces the darkest, fallen pool
Tears; the written messages of sorrow and laughter
Covert their collection of sacrifices
And fall bless-ed humane
The merciful and pitiable denizens
Of a stronger more courageous face than Gods
They beat with the bravery of flesh
More holy; than heavens sacred
Have these tears
For more sure they are in their tactile salt
Are these tears
Have lived
And in your tears a more profound betterment exists
More, much more of life
Stronger
Braver
And more courageous
To face their own existence
Than the pretence of their presence
In God
"Monet's paintings are best seen from afar than close up," ... by Poet.
Faraway the figment, like Monet the pigment,
the brother so gallant, how he flaunts his talent,
he paints at a farness, like a horse to harness.
On art, less than tasteful, funds spent a bit wasteful,
hence, see he a crackpot, three prunes be his jackpot.
The other, quill--fountain--built a tidy mountain,
first bees in a bonnet when he wrote a sonnet,
then that which was timeless 'twas wrote poems rhymeless.
Mom gave, 'twas none cheaply, had pockets dug deeply,
both brothers did cherish, their sinful ways perish.
Mom was not devious, planned she thought previous.
saw her boys sinister, she aimed to minister,
The Word generated, the cloth, venerated.
Conformed beautifully, her sons dutifully,
tale of our brotherhood, as she vowed motherhood.
The day’s eyes closing bidding goodnight
Stroking the skies bitter reddish copper
Wind arrested folklore settling low
Lit only by the soft blushing of candlelight
My final stanza is penned for me
The bounty of my lifetime in toil
Strewn wearily about yet I am gratified
Back to the beginning at last I’m beckoned
The wonder of life sweetly consecrated
Eons of drudgery sit pure upon my crest
The symphony strings echoing dully
Life’s eminence now infinitely darkened
Those earthbound lament over me
Their salty sacrifices fall a blessing
The attribute of living sits grimly
Yielding with each burdened exhale, venerated
I fight ahead awaiting those whispers
A final focused moment of noble dignity
Delaying but an instant to express…before
My spirit answers back in perpetual silence
Once in a blue moon, in the circuit of the cryptic sky appears the transcendental fusion,
when the acquiescence of the sky emerges to display two heavenly bodies most exotic phases of union.
On those, mesmerizing venerated nights, the new moon and the wolf moon in juxtaposition,
supercede the perceived notion of eclipses; when the earth's shadow devours the pearly moon, its unparalleled companion!
Contrary to the credence, they recline and mingle, into one in secret paranormal amalgamation!
At that spectacular moment, the blood of the luna oozes, turns scarlet,
and the venerated Full Moon turns into Blood Moon in unison:
when the earth's umbra covers the moon in its arms, passionately to hide pains of her bunion!
They have clandestine agreement, beyond the mortal comprehension to fathom their cabalistic union!
Although, once in a blue moon, even the cynical corporals,
turn fortunate to witness the epochal communion!
Deluded and hypnotised, they come out with their finite, shallow persuasions!
Even waning, the luna in all her immaculate purity, maneuvers the blue planet, her matchless companion
in various alluring phases, in exuberant magnificent manifestations!
Those rarest phases in rotation connotes their cryptic indulgences in culmination!
The momentum of the earth-moon collision forms curious rarefied condensation,
causes in its beloved's bosom, the tidal ridges, the ebb and flow, a unique phenomenon!
When the luna grows from New Moon to Waxing Crescent, whispering the earth to cast its beams for illumination
in diverse evolving phases from Crescent, First Quarter Waxing Gibbous, Full Moon, Waning Gibbous, Last Quarter, Waning Crescent to the New Moon,
both the celestial- bodies embrace each other
in variant robes of orientations!
Their hide and seek, merging enigma, provokes the lunatics for musing bardic explorations;
as once in a blue moon merges the peerless pens to extol,
the unfathomed metamorphosis of earth-luna's metaphysical communion!
All Rights Reserved © Silpika Kalita
Bottle of tears is my first version of this poetic legacy series
Skeleton of tears is which the venerated versatility carries.
This might be called as a sequel of alacrity or prolongation
But best before this is a celluloid and my heart and art collaboration.
In this poem “I or me” signify tears
Tears personify her expressions and emotions
Read this and know the life legacy of tears with concentration
And finally your fur, fleece and fuzz stand erect in attention.
Tears personify, I am compacted in stars
I am compressed between hurdles and wars
I am combusted on scorches
I am confided from Ishtar torches.
Tears epitomize, eternal bone of mine is an ominous emotion.
The Sagaras; Sarpada, Satluj shaded a challenge to my dire destination.
That one eve ever the fever of cleavers cannot catch up with me.
And the damp humidity of drought could not cope up with me.
Tears embody, I float on the branches of poignant army
I flood around the builds of happiness
I reach the borders of hell-heeled layers
And I roof down the clouds to my feet and make them rain prayers
Tears swank ,When my real steel sizzled atoms of blood,
Come together to conjure a flood.
The heated ink of emotions ignites to molt the black clouds
And let me visualize in which eve shall it swounds.
Tears exemplify, my liberty leads the immense flame in the hands of torch bearer
My prodigy evokes the waves hard under visions of volcanoes
The lust of my silvered glory was inspired from the shiny heavenly threads of feudal dart.
And the symptom of my introduction will be the rise of a burning heart.
God of hostility typify: Convinced that the fever of lava can't cope up with me
And the humidity of drought can"t hope up the level with me
In such a water working poem this is the conclusion
That even the pacific evaporate when my eternal strength feel thirsty after a tear solidification.
And now the spirits incarnate, my iron lungs had oxidized with the bitter-sour chilled water
after reading it and they crackled their internal matter into ignitious crater.
And now I will come to compete with and complete the legacy BOT(Bottle of Tears)
In the new form and with new fire firmed eyes to show you the third part “Kingdom for Disarmament of Tears ”.
4/14/2016