Best Wonted Poems
So still and beautiful lays the rose in the heather,
Lifeless and dying, given to bring you happiness,
So fragile is this rose laying in heather,
Slowly withering and drying, crumbling to a powder,
I look at you and see this rose ever fading,
Once growing, living, accenting its surroundings,
But now gone, plucked from the bush by one mans lust,
I could never compare you to this rose laying in the heather,
For your beauty surpasses its own,
So still and beautiful lays this rose in the heather,
Now dried cracking and dead, stored in a book to bring memories,
So weak and faded is this rose in yellowing heather,
Slowly falling apart as you touch the fragile petals,
I look at you and remember the flower when it faded,
That germinated and grew where I had sown its seed,
Now gone, plucked from the ground by one mans hope,
I would never compare you to this old heather and roses,
For its life was surpassed by yours,
Now I tell you I love you with cellophaned roses in heather,
Draining lifeless this dying confession of my dreaming,
This rose is more fragile then the first had I gave you,
But I could’t approach, my courage eroding at your sight,
I look at you now and see the love I sought inward,
Once alive and growing but only within lost confines of myself,
But never quite gone I hold this consuming fire close inside,
I could never combine your world with mine,
You always looked passed never noticing me,
Now I open my book that holds the first rose, wishing I gave it for the sake of
chance,
Instead I hold a created memory that never came passing,
That never could I fear,
I hold tight to the lie that through wonted silence I painted,
But that chance for your love died with the first rose wrapped in heather.
I just realized here I am looking down on myself. Literally living off my own self-pity.
Drowning myself with my memories of all the people who have hurt me .I was literally
sitting in a pool of my own self-pity. Me that’s all I seem to think about. I spent so much
time just thinking of things to drown myself with and reasons why the hole world should fell
sorry for me. I realize I seem to have forgotten why people wonted to hurt me. It was
because all my life I took on a role of protecting people. The very people who later turned
there backs on me. Everything I went though was for a good cause. I was standing up for
people who had long lost there own voices. I protected them and I built them up. I stood with
them and sometimes when it got hard I carried them though it. Now that I remember I can
hold my head up high and live my life with now knowing that if I could go back in time I
would change nothing.
Form:
"A man can fail many times, but he isn't a failure until he begins to blame somebody else." _ John Burroughs
In the Garden of Eden, an ominous silence spread.
From the Heavenly Paradise, all grace had fled.
Adam knew there was no recompense for his act
Against his crime, God would violently react.
Sorry that the pact once solemnly made did wilt.
In shame and regret the first lovely pair sat.
They moved away from God’s wonted path,
And hid under bushes fearing His wrath.
God as usual came for His evening round
But Adam and Eve were nowhere around
The omniscient knew what had happened,
Over the gross disobedience, He was deeply saddened.
God called out- “Adam… Adam,
From your hideout, come…come.
When everything else, I had given you free
Tell me what made you eat from the forbidden tree”
Adam said- Me Lord, I acted under Eve’s persuasion
For the forbidden fruit, I had no inclination
Next, God questioned Eve,
Who acted so very naïve.
She said she was treacherously tempted by Satan,
Who came disguised more like a charlatan
All wisdom and knowledge was assured
And with false promises, she was lured.
For breaking the pact, heavy was the price incurred
God withdrew all the blessings conferred.
From the bliss of Paradise, they were sacked,
To live in a world with all misery wracked!
Since then, the blaming game has been conveniently played,
And the onus of our actions on others' shoulders laid,
As from Adam to Eve and from Eve to Satan,
Cleverly passed over our accountability’s baton!
Had they not blamed each other and repented over their crime,
God would have forgiven, and their story might have ended with a sweet chime!
Contemporary Ode To A Mother Crying Out
To Her Children…2015
Sprawled out on life’s stage,
her world turns and runs
river red with the blood of her children:
flowing like a wandering stream.
Bloated ballooned bellies
mock aborted pregnancies;
once luscious breasts
sag in parallel union
with sinking faces
of lost hope.
Lost hope—whirling
like solitary ghost smoke
of abandoned fires:
abandoned fires
dying in waning time.
Hollowed red eyes
of fleeing lovers look rearward:
the wholeness of nothingness simmering;
as smiling death sits—
waiting and anticipating the wonted feast.
Heartbeat of hope struggles—
murmuring in the valleys and shadows;
searching the gods’ penurious mercy.
In the midst of the Dante, hazed hell,
a wretched mother clings
to time and history—once again.
Rooted in her audacious faith,
she cries out to her wandering brood in Diaspora:
those liberating souls spewed from her precious womb.
Scattered liberating souls—umbilical bound;
destined to restore her great grand glory:
With sage seasoned good courage,
sagaciously she squats—
awaiting the victory.
Go forth, you man of a hellish breed.
Go forth, you man of yellow hair and skin of orange hue.
Go forth, with your wickedness a brew.
Go forth, and dwell in your white sanctuary.
Go forth, with your perilous games of foreign adultery.
Go forth, and immerse yourself in an ocean of self-indulgence,
ignorance, and immorality.
Go forth, with your lust for wealth and power.
Go forth, for greed is a grievous evil under the sun.
Go forth, with your wonted behavior of wickedness,
for your time grow closer to the hour.
Go forth, you man of a low degree.
Go forth, with your oppressive grip on the throats
of the sick and the poor with your vile decree.
Go forth, for evil has devoured your soul.
Go forth, with your heavy ruthless foot on the backs
of human civil rights.
Go forth, for your heart is as black as coal.
And we shall..
Go forth, like a great cloud of tenacity
under the brilliance of God's glorious sun.
And we shall..
Go forth, under the blanket of the starry night
feverishly protesting until our mission is done.
And we shall..
Go forth, fearless and in a diverse unity, with our hearts
heated and our minds brilliant.
And we shall..
Go forth, united and unfeigned in rendering our cause in concordant.
And we shall..
Go forth, with a legal and political vise against
you and your minion's mandates of inequality.
And we shall..
Go forth, with our fight for equality of all humanity.
copyright 2017 Looking At The Light From The Bottom Of The Lake.
Dubieties engulf all around
As the brume in the dawn
Behold plants seeking strength
In this warm cuddling cloud
_________________________________
Songs soon sing from the sky
The common notes that play
When it’s about to drop wet
Upon human’s bower.
It’s wonted (by this time) to descry
Dark clouds being deserted
By its everyday residents.
In the mood of the inclement
It’s sparse to hear
Any row from the firmament
Other than the loyal sound
Of the saturated pattering
From the blue yonder.
At eighty he is still a coolie
toiling in paddy lea;
reaping pods and
heaping the seeds.
His sagged muscles working
in wonted harmony
But his brain tired of thought;
of his son who died as a sot; or
of his daughter widowed at twenty past
or his wife pulling weeds at another spot.
He has to carry on this moil; I thought
till death to retain his breath.
Looking at his pitiable plight
a wicked feeling swept my heart.
How great we're in contrast;
honourable servants of the State.
We retire at sixty, in peace.
Take home a lump sum of grant, apiece.
Also a pension for monthly use.
Last but not the least
a T.V and a chair to ease.
All this at what a simple price.
For sleeping forty years in office! ! !
The story of the world is an absorbing dream.
Though longer than our lives, it sometimes feels as brief
As our own rapid days, whose swiftly flowing stream
Bears memory downstream: a light and helpless leaf.
Our minds grow ripe with age and urge our hearts to leave
The cradle of our youth for more alluring shores,
Yet—late in life—we find it troubling to conceive
A kinder image which our pummeled faith restores.
When sleep bewitches reason on its restless course,
The wind of power breathes its daring way across
The distant, fleeting kingdom of our happy source
Of long-forgotten songs sojourning on old loss.
The heavy cataracts of wonted, dull display
And leaden tension creeping down on silent man
Throw freedom and its passions into disarray
And wake the fiendish force whose roar bright fancies ban.
The sign of spent desires—a breeze of the unseen—
Takes shape upon the cloudy shore’s unlevelled sand.
Alas, I cannot linger in the realm between
True form and wish, before fair Hypnos takes my hand.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
To my dearest dear…
Am going through a very bad phase
Loads of works and above all business targets,
Once you came to my thought
And out of all yips, I smiled back for a second
Those flicks with you often n often.
It had been days…
And a movie without you is such a draggy em.
My friend writing for you today…
just to hear from you
Have you ever missed me the way I miss you every day!!!
I turned back my pages and a recap from those French classes
It all began when I shared with you few notes and trifle tattles
Best of you three and among you were bit different
Yet once a time to one I was coquettishly attracted.
Befell with usual conversations and sometimes a walk down to the back gate
A smile shared with wonted hi n hello
And an eye to eye abut during the morning break
Day by day and months later we met up at the orkut network.
First few chats pass on with formal gabs
And later I came up with those fiddling craps.
My usual put-ons and your internet slangs
Still reminds me how I use to share with you
Talks about music and movie blabs.
Washed-out few memories, I wonder how I came in touch with you regularly
Familiarity build up and I started to intimate you.
I saw a friend in you and I saw eternality in you
I felt your accent and I felt how much I miss you.
The Nandan erred foreign flicks and lavishly spent at south city
Few snacks and secret fags on our way,
An overnight fuddle…
I just smiled with you all the way.
I wondered your love toward pets
And I wondered your routine aperiodic,
I esteemed your didacticism
And I esteemed your sensation,
I pray at your benevolence
And I wish for your love always be your existence.
Dear Friend! Today I miss you more,
And I wish you to be here
Your presence will give me a blissful core.
I miss you and I will be missing you,
But promise me before you leave
I just want to sit and recollect all those memories with you.
Through my words and through this letter,
I penned you forever n ever
If ever you need me you’ll always find me near.
I wish you a life with smiles and cheers
Just hit me if ever you are invited with undesired tears.
It’s now to say goodbye
Hope to see you soon and hear from you, A reply!!
Till then…take care n bu bye
Yours forever…longed amigo.
(Note: This poem is dedicated to one of my closest friend Shaoni Mukhopadhyay)
A flying bird I am for heavenly flight;
No enthralling branch can hold me tight.
Free I am from all the passing years;
not submitting to the baseless fears.
Free I am from all the worldly chains;
staying away from all the bodily pains.
Free I am from all the endless desires;
not burning self in the lustful fires.
Free I am from the fleeting attractions;
never indulging in the vicious intentions.
Free I am to fly beyond all limitations;
remaining away from the wonted tensions.
Free I am from all the formal appreciations;
undisturbed by the dreadful rejections.
Free I am from all the religious rituals;
Unaffected by the deeds of other individuals.
Free I am from all sensuous pleasures,
always filled with abundant treasures.
Free I am to reach the highest goal
in incorporeal world with the Supreme Soul.
Like a reclusive boat, I remained there,
discerning the prevailing winds of change,
which many a time, made me embrace fear,
by surpassing the stipulated range.
When winds of change blurred the light house's light,
I blanked out and forgot my wonted route.
Struggled, wiggled and jiggled without sight
amid the sea, and there a hope sprouted.
Even when vigorously slapped on face,
and ruthlessly elevated mild tides,
it's a toilsome task to shudder ,sea base
and that's why I endorse her as a guide.
She persuaded that it's not writ large force
that help us win; it's just our inner source
Nov-17-2020
A barren paradise
Paper parachutes
Bleed, I before we
Except after deaths
String of light suctions
Screams captioned
Vocalizing muffles
Fleas flee
Parasites sight
Leaches beseech
Conventions plateau
Wonted into winter
Inept untaught cling
Polluting prospects
Tasting achilles
Oxidizing tongues
Clip urinating lips
Pressurizing knuckles
To freeze ends mean
Of inks soap
Washing pluto pores
Till burning gain
Is nothing lost
Samold verse
An inkling fresh
What's left to not do?
Peddle soup cans?
Underline oddities?
Misspell mutiny?
Lying in a sensible
Juxtaposition
A fruitful prison
Lonely I walk through the walls of crowds
Reach out but like shadows they don’t connect
Their eyes are vacant cold and empty
Ghostly people walk on by crossing my path
As I head back home in wonted despair
Where I find solace in the whisper of your silence
I can always count on you
Your soothing presence tangible
Your embrace warm and lingering
As familiar as an old lover’s embrace
The feeling hovering
Haunts me ever so gently
Tired of wandering alone
It’s soothing to find you here
Loneliness serenely dark and faithful
Wrapped in the warmth of your caress
I find solace in the whisper of your silence
Read on air by invitation ~ April 12, 2020 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
AP: 2nd place 2022
Submitted on July 27, 2019 for contest SOUND OF SILENCE sponsored by JOHN HAMILTON - RANKED 10TH
Give me one moment to reflect
On wonted scenery once erect
The steel, glass and wood all made
A home for birds, and those who trade
From here, there, all did see (unless
housed in a cave) Hollywood on TV
Land of the free, Home of the brave
Brandishing banners with God's Holy Name
Pitiful shadows dance when we stir
Given voice from the Puppeteer
Those towers stand in our mind's eye
Etched in retro, the old New York skyline
A warning? God forbid some say
Unsung heroes receive their just acclaim
Poetic justice? Verdict delayed
The sun rose again, the Eagle soared frayed
Our savior trod to Golgotha
We too will walk the road anathema
Remembering when. looking forward to
(Nothing borrowed, blue or old) something new
Be sure to flaunt it if you got it and talk till it's hottest news that is true when they gossip about you, you're honest.
If you're good at what you do you should be proud that you're on it with nothing to prove when your views are the strongest and strangest though some maybe mock it dont stop what you're good at it'll soon become wonted.
Some common folk want it to flaunt it but stop it the second they flop it and see they've not got it.
Some try to improve with more bollocks and cock it up once again and there's often some gossip.
If you want it the hottest news and you've got it talk to whoever you want and dont stop it.
Flaunt it if you've got it and show off the fact because some are born modest so flaunt it and be damned.