The 2025 cries
It is morning the first after the birth of the new year, the jubilation was tingled with sadness
Outside, the sun shines on our night pale faces
But we feel a certain tristeza the sun shone
Last year to while we busied around doing this and that, only to see we had forgotten to buy butter, and we have to do the dishes piled up
Like a snow drift in the sink
Who will dress and walk to the grocer the little
Shop that never closes, I suggest to use olive oil on toast but is met with horrified silence
He, beseeching –
I raised my pleading eyes
as I saw you pass by.
You looked through me.
I was invisible.
My eyes searched
for understanding.
You did not say “I’m sorry.”
You busied your nose in your phone.
My thirst apparent yet
you offered nothing.
You clutched your coffee tighter
although you saw my want.
Your bagel a life-send,
you passed by imploring hands.
You turned away
from my entreating pain.
I, reproving –
Too late…to comfort you.
Too late…to buy your lunch.
Too late…to bring you coffee.
Too late…to listen to your stories.
Too late…to offer consolation.
Too late…to extend compassion.
Too late…to save myself.
In an unwarned minute,
He’d begun to spin it,
Setting himself no limit
Like one eyeing some summit:
A forced-to-be-rotating band
Praying to slip off for restful sand
From a busied tormenting left hand
And the next minute he was a man
Achieving great things without plan
And even without stirring a foot
Of problems getting at their root;
Entirely relying on his instinct,
Vocally praising it for being distinct …
Many would’ve said he was killing Time
And as many pretending to use Time;
A possible number “Hatching some crime”
Perhaps some “A glass of undiluted lime”
But I was sure in his finished rice ‘much thyme’.
Sleep wouldn’t come, the clock hands seemed to shrug, so I decided to walk.
It was dark, the kind of fall overcast that makes a low ceiling of the sky.
Early mornings, on campus, are always solitary - students shun sunrise like vampires avoid the sun - so I got sole custody of the university. With no traffic, squirrels, birds or humans - predawn was nonchalant.
The wind, busied itself, sweeping the leaves falling in twos and threes, first left then right and finally throwing them in the air like a carefree child.
Frost on grass looked grey, then would suddenly become silverlit by the moon.
If you measure time in steps, as seconds, and then miles become hours. Soon, dawn made night morning, dew became drops, and I searched for coffee.
Fireball rise red lazer ray has spear horizontal
Sending a shedding of angel wing span blessing
Busied birds converse beneath apricot mottle
From dawn huddle, welcome warmth suggesting
Splendour awaiting, drive Wednesday to Pacific
Three beach night stays after so long, a year's wait
Travel to shore infinite, lapped sand map terrific
Coinciding coastal followed day, I'll turn thirty eight
Egg fried ocean, toastily popped tomorrow's coast
Simmering indigo pot turns turquoise shimmer
Crash marvel intensified if today I'm able to boast
Comp entered in June has judged mine a winner
Whilst very unlikely my little poem will number
Against names recognised, English professors
Threw my lines in the mix so regret slid asunder
In the year of realising poetry's divine pleasures
22nd September
I calculate the madness and it's still incurable
What does the world want? the elements keep me miserable
I Tip-toe and gleam to salvage my goals and dreams
My pen bleeds blue or black ink, 4 to 5 utensils applied to meaning
I might be inclined to sketch my life graphically
But what's the point? why can't I enjoy moments relaxingly
If I Step my feet in her boundary, she will not permit
Even if I called her digits or was prompted by stitches
My heart is busied so affiliating with you would be knew
I never had a connection to last crucially to understand the visual
Siblings' example makes it look so easy
They try to preach me on subjects bound reach me
I sometimes fail to listen and learn
Whether I am initiated with Christ like they are
I tend to believe staying close to them, keeps me aligned and firm
This is the eclipse that has kept
Africa
Dark for long
Has denied humans from being mobile
Our pets from being lively
It's just a day or two in the city
We've busied ourselves visiting
Tourist sites
Observing children as they play with glee
Shouting during recreational hours upon
Their school courtyards
People stand in long queues
Waiting for their turn to be served
At fast food kitchenettes
We've enjoyed the cool breeze
From the beaches
Fisher folks can hardly mend their nets
These days upon their boats and canoes
They can't see clearly
The sun does does not shine brightly by day
The angry clouds would always
Release rain
No one has ever bothered yet to petition the Almighty
To change the tide of the touchstone
The fox we saw the other time still sleeps in the box!
No, no! it stays all night
In its cage.
Stage 1
Trick-or- treating long after dark, we knocked on an old lady’s door.
Her annoyed look clearly did not match our Halloween glee.
But that did not dissuade us from dashing to the next lighted porch.
Stage 2
I took my two small kids out in cute costumes Halloween night.
Once Trick- or- Treating was finished and my children were tucked in bed,
I busied myself sifting through their bags for the Snickers bars!
Stage 3:
Sometimes before 5, the Trick- or- Treaters appear at our door,
announced constantly by our barking dog. Although they may look cute,
after 9, I become the old bothered lady from my childhood.
Oct. 25, 2016 For the Halloween Contest of Eve Roper
Rest Now You Busy Mind
You've toiled with fears and concerns,
hopes and aspirations
Rest now you busy mind
You've busied yourself with (s)elf appointed things,
Instead of (S)elf appointed things.
Rest now you wild mind
You have run wild like a untamed horse
Unbridled to muse all your desires
Rest now you frantic mind
You have tried to think yourself
out of every uncomfortable Moment.
Rest now you tired mind
You've kept yourself awake many a night
Perseverating on to many disturbing thoughts
Broiled out of unvalidated feelings.
Rest now you weary mind
You've analyzed every minute detail
to mundane problems.
Rest Now you quiet mind
Peace and tranquility comes to you through the awareness of the workings of your mind.
SAVING GRACE
In the middle of the universe, I stand
Where it all revolves around man
Selling and consuming disastrous blends
Burning the candle at both ends
Neglecting duty, overriding beauty
This story of the ages, never told by sages
Who lived in the bell jar, with the fat cats in the big car
Where small minds, busied and blind
Lost the human race
NO ONE’S SAVING GRACE!
2.4.15: J. Polatnick
Submission: In the Middle of the Universe, I stand
S o dispassionate I have BECOME
E ager voices of people made me NUMB
R ambling tales of them just gave BOREDOM
I to restore my faith, still silently seek FREEDOM
O ffshore built my own little place to avoid any BOTHERSOME
U nafraid, un-argued, unasked, un-broken, ah my own solemn KINGDOM
S lowly turning in to an old soul though LONESOME
L ooking in the mirror, irking on lost SARCASM
O ver-busied, I made my mind, being DEFEATISM,
O f peace I only yearn and restore gone OPTIMISM
K nowingly of serious look wore, but still don’t know, why feelings are FEARSOME
This rainful haze but coldly dance
atop that meekly warmth of eve
a fancy frozen of a hum
of feast and drink, we drown and live
and half about our highly walls
the windows keep the tease of dew –
our roads run up some busied halls
of damning damp, of dulling old
and nightly drumming men of rain
a crowd we are of wont by sleep
our prance in wet a holy sight
your calm, a godly icing breathe
but we both know the sins of gray
that dance we hear is opt to fade
I am no moon, nor sun, nor day
for ours is but, romance of rain.
August 18, 2012
After the storm has passed,
Pelting rain has ceased, and
Ratchet winds have shifted into
Tolerable and non-threatening breezes,
Life resumes in an ordinary sense.
As grey clouds move east,
The sky opens to unveil its majesty
And daybreak takes its proper place.
Slowly the sun emerges,
Rising like a phoenix,
Renewing our hope and calm.
The world looks anew.
As birds chirp and trees stand tall
No longer swayed by unfriendly gusts,
The clean scent of rain left behind
Brings forth a new freshness in the day.
Life resumes with kids playing in puddles
And downtown streets are busied with people
Who walk unrushed to appointments.
On lucky days when looking into the sky
A bow of colors may catch their eyes –
Such a rare treasure that makes them smile
As they take delight in its pleasing sight.
What a miracles it is to see
After the passing of a storm.
Perched above it signals harmony
And the promise of a new beginning.
A wondrous sign to behold,
A remarkable ending to that which has passed.
My face is a canvas
on which ever busied time will paint for decades.
My lips are dried out magnets
of unseen power and attraction.
My ears are smithies
that poundr the sounds from the hammer to the anvil.
My hands are warm taloned machines
that alternately build and destroy.
My knees are shredded toilet paper
thrown in oak trees before a monsoon.
My heart’s a molten battery
that doubles as a punching bag.
My eyes are two long dead stars
whose fragile green lights have just reached the Earth.
Pastel pink ballgown floats on horizon
Belle of the ball accompanied by gray gents
Dancing into early morn, roosters sing on
Still accented by soft entertainment
So swiftly has the dance floor changed to light
Like life that changes slipping up on us
A mother bird busied herself with bright
Eyes and wide mouths, then gone is little fuss
Cool is the morn, damp the air_ comfortable
Soon the golden sun will warm the air, chase
Away the chill, send me inside unable
To enjoy nature, But God's presence is in place
A few ballgown minutes, time moves onward
Thank you for this time in heart undergird
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