Best Vicissitude Poems
a resilient soul
hoists his drooping wings
dreary but dreamy
soars far
so high
he keeps on searching for his illusive dreams
regardless of the storm and height of mountains
goes through miles away
in his equanimity
straight with vision of sunrays
on plight are failures
not too bad
tries again
the mighty swords in his heart
so much patience and love help him to survive
in every vicissitude and kinks of his life
oftentimes
we can get the melody of what we want
if we allow the cacophonies to come
Dec. 5, 2012
Form: Suzette Prime
First Place
Contest: Suzette Prime: Prime Numbers and Philosophy
Judged: 12/14/2012
Poet Sponsor: Suzette Crous
Hoping everyday there will be a vicissitude in your thinking.
Irritation and repose.
Waiting.
For a text, a call, reticence.
White space on paper.
Empty.
I drank your wine.
I reveled in your game.
Laid nude and bent over your couch while you created rudiment on the floor beside my foot.
Vessel.
Held my breath, eyes shut while you finished yourself.
Watched you cook steak on the grill.
Men get hungry or sleep, you were hungry and I have told you;
I don’t eat red meat.
You tell me to retire myself from cooking because our duties are equalized though our genders are not.
I ate the steak.
Copious house, sizeable paycheck, exiguous man.
Microbic consort.
Missed appointments.
“You should have reminded me….” you say
But I know anything important is worth remembering or writing down.
I am sullen.
In life I am compensated to remind men of various appointments.
“Could you jot this down…….remind me on this date….”
Though it’s not my berth, my disposition to succor puts me in this bearing, and in my own dash, I don’t find gravity to prompt a man that we have a reservation once every few weeks outside his couch.
I won't ask again for what I demand in whole; time, allotment, an epoch.
Time spent unbent over leather couches in precarious manners, minds soused with wine.
I am letting you go.
I am detestable, inconsequential.
You are pulchritudinous and astute.
White space on paper.
Someone is waiting to write me a poem.
never are two alike.
wafting to and fro with gentle breeze,
a dancing ballerina the twirling flake,
motion with vicissitude it sings,
the vapor, the crystal performs.
in costume white appears its shape,
dendrite, needle, plates, and branches,
as stars afloat the midnight sky,
its nuclei the symmetry hexagon.
adrift in sea of air so cold,
the atmosphere burst forth like springs,
down the river of wind it flows,
the flake aglow, the moon it makes.
the perching flake atop the branch,
a tree its home a flake does nest,
with noonday sunshine sure to come,
the snow, the flake, will be no more.
Let the buds of our smile flower again
And awake the enchanting nights
That played symphony in our soul’s domain
Till the flame of my charming memory ignites
Let the past bitterness drift in the sea of oblivion
Let the heart’s anguish and pain dilute
In the raindrops from eyes, in the flowing diluvian
And the mission of love elegantly execute
Till when devils of differences to rule our minds
Be a David and slay the Goliath of solitude
Plant the rose that fragrance of love unwinds
Tread the path leading soul to valley of vicissitude
Sparkling fountain of bliss waits to immerse
Our bodies and soul deserve the fragrance
And melody that spring of life intersperse
Experience the love’s grace and elegance
Mom was a person of indisputable integrity...
teaching siblings the strict rules of equality.
A voice of tender words to remember her by...
a dazzling light invading my tenebrous sky.
Mother was more glittering and worthier than any gold...
with the purest faith and the wisdom of growing old.
I was very blessed to have had such a loving, nurturing mother...
her purity vanquished my vicissitude, and kept me from error.
She adored jewels, but she loved me more than them...
and she wore a long necklace of opulent elegance.
I am very proud and glad to have inherited that spirit from the South...
and reflecting on her virtuous life, it has given me strength and worth.
FOR A MOMENT
Your cry isn’t loud enough for the world to hear
So wipe your tears.
Even your so called ‘friends and companions’ are turning deaf ears
Wipe your tears and look up to the hills, from there comes your help
Tears come from sorrow’s hole
Tears will continue to flow until you control your whole
Dilute your sorrow’s hole with joy,
And effervescence of smile will frizzle your tears
Don’t pamper that hurt inside, lest, it will linger
Letting go of is the best panacea
Embrace life’s vicissitude, and make peace with your past
Until there’s no tomorrow, fortunes are in life’s queue
For as mischance exists in life’s cast,
So is great chance.
Life can deny you of breakfast, but that breakfast may not be worth comparing with your brunch.
As you crunch, your life realizes that you can wait for tomorrow’s breakfast even if it denies you supper.
Sometimes, life makes you feel Charlie,
Especially when life gives you a malignant glare,
At a moment when you are in a state of ‘devil-may-care’
You are compelled to say cheerio to the world
Because life is using a brusque tone
But when you chance upon successes, you bury that decision
That’s life
Don’t escalate that hurt or pain when life confronts you
It’s just a fortune recess
Embolden your spirit and wait for the resume of success.
#sanguine, sangfroid, pertinacious#..That’s what you ought be……
We Scatter Sweet Seeds
We scatter sweet seeds
and await germination.
Like them we too shall rise.
The nourishing womb—
a crib of preparation;
a new birth is coming soon.
No vicissitude can ever
prevent our liberation.
Our eyes are never
not focused upon the prize.
Declarative mantras in tenacious pulchritude
reiterate the unbound verisimilitude.
The cohorts cannot comprehend the vicissitude.
Learning and judgments are encumbered in lassitude.
My thoughts are accomplished extemporaneously,
although they are all confronted adversatively.
Examples of life’s essences contrary to me,
adulterated by each potent adversary,
appear contiguous with each stark antonymy.
I seek honest truth from an external faculty.
I search for a scrupulous freelance authority.
Though time is quick, I seek this elusive entity.
I beseech your unencumbered intact allotment.
This installment will help elucidate my judgment.
Will supplies be exhausted in a fleeting moment?
Be munificent in this required fulfillment.
Tuesday 17th 1998.
Escape…
I felt an atomic bomb erupt from within me, as I the being I am raged an unending battle against the person that is I. My internal thoughts betraying my external actions, I was left in a state of absolute irrepressible rage. I tumbled and tossed, tried heavily to regain control, but I had already been left one soul with no body.
A chilling silence flew through the air, living me numb as I accessed my present vicissitude. I had collapsed in myself living me as a dead but yet leaving being.
I heard voices talking to me, distant voices, and almost silent ones sending a trigger through my spinal cord.
I looked at my pale and blood-deprived self in the mirror… I saw the devil within me, struggling, yes! Struggling to gain control of the power station that is I. A quick hit by reality sent me into a shock-absorbed state of mind, I loved the fact that I hated the person I had become.
I, a mere shadow of what I used to be, sat floating away in the illusion I had created within me.
My thoughts melting in my actions, my behavioral qualities being lost in my emotional obscenities.
All I could feel was a schizophrenic voice that said, “escape”.
It wasn't quick
but it seemed to happen so.
The indecisive thoughts soon became quite clear,
but not exactly as crystal would be.
It's easy to see
why it could be frowned upon;
many have ended hurt,
scarred,
and even put to eternal rest.
However, she was undaunted;
she knew her misconceptions could only be
beneficial.
A swift turn and a venturesome soul
shaped her into a beautiful love song,
a hysterical vision of black and blue.
Throughout the tough goings
and a shattered lullaby or two,
she settled, though erratic,
into a breathtaking work of art
made of misfortunes and lust.
"Change has come and left,
but it shall never be truly gone,"
She cried in her lucid dreams
of the present.
A flower in paradise
There’s a lack of nostalgic golden bell,
Garden flowers in Carlsbad*, and
Even cherry blossoms in Descanso**.
In a neighbor's mini-garden
Resting is an unknown flower.
It seldom dates bees and butterflies.
The stem bows respectably.
The petals wrinkle gracefully.
Full of comfort and peace,
Filled with beauty of recollection,
Bare flower mutters to itself,
Solely embraces the glorious sunrise,
Rolls the shadow at dusk,
Then, she falls asleep in the moonlight
Out of the vicissitude of life
Modest is the flower in paradise.
*Carlsbad: a coastal city, San Diego County, California
** Descanso: botanical garden in La Cañada Flintridge, Los Angeles County,
The man looked at the unprofitable world
Then decided it was no place for him,
Toughen up his mind to go, to a fool's paradise;
Twined his neck in rope to heaven,
Waving and twisting like a ripe calabash to get
The tight noose out of gullet,
And there, it has past that stress eroded life;
Moved on biting his forefinger like meat,
What about mama and her cradle child,
She prevented it to come to the world not
To smell the prepared poison that man has made,
And it came after all
To fulfill all naturedness;
And she chef a pot
Of pudding on fire,
The baby swam head first,well cooked
As it last, mourning
Mama shed a rhino tears.
Turning into an angelic beast,
Here is the ugly Narcissist....
For others! She cared least,
Here's the ugly Narcissist.
When the plot of life got revealed,
She had a role to lead.
Sanguine She, was now so turbid,
Like Sophocles! Hard to get rid.
But it doesn't end here! still some to indite,
the lost rhyme and a will to fight.....
With a lesson, not to hold it with Arms,
Took birth a new Epigram.
Arrival of an elate metre of vicissitude,
came a wave of valedictory for turpitude.
She breathed out of that tearful cyst....
Citherns and Citoles singing "You! No more a Narcissist".
Coffining the corpse of heart,
She ambled on a new start.
Towards Quibla!! Hearkening to a Dole above,
reached a Kingdom, with the blind wind's shove.
On the Schrezo of Hyades,
Condoning the satyr envoy of bliss.
In the elfin's grot ! To meet Her,
Came someone, with a Scepter.
If time is turning unpropitious,
You shouldn't hesitate a minute,
Need not ponder a moment,
A distance of a courtesy call,
Friend will stand by you for sure !
I'm in the same waters as you,
Sailing in the parallel boat as you do,
Right or at times left waves might slow the pace,
Behind at times left, but let fortitude prevail !
Like best of the times quickly pass away,
A perverse situation too is not going to stay,
Bridge the gap between time and patience,
Over and over build up your vicissitude,
Troubled times would soon be left far away,
Water, the morning water will soothen the sail !
I'll not let the stress overpower ,
Ease the mind off the recurrent vague thoughts,
Your spirit will feel the essence of enlightenment,
Mind palace is a place wonderful if conquered !!
Written by Dr. Upma A. Sharma
So, here I am. I've arrived safely at maturity.
Sorry I was delayed - it's been quite a journey!
The weather was sometimes very rough,
and steering through those storm-ravaged lanes
was really rather tough.
So, here, I am. What do I have to show
for this long and arduous odyssey?
What do I really know? What lessons learned?
What collection of learn`ed luggage
is nestling in the trunk of my vicissitude?
So, here I am, a bit battered and travel-weary:
jet-lagged by hours of delays, and wearied
by travelling in so many endless circles;
orbiting in many a revolving door in search of an exit;
blinded by blind alleys and one-way streets.
But, here I am, in need of time to just be me.
An end to role playing, a recess from responsibility.
A time to hand over the reigns of obligation
and traverse new frontiers by ageing 'gracefully',
as, here I am, safely landed in maturity.