I never noticed diamonds in the sky before;
so mindless, let such moments pass me by before.
I never glanced a passing smile upon a face
of utter loveliness; it made me cry before.
I never hearkened such sweet, honeyed voice, so fell
upon the siren spell of Lorelei before
I never felt the brush of lips against my own
that were as soft as wings of butterfly before.
I never gave away the key that would unlock
my to heart be a caravanserai before.
I never suffered dawns sharp, stabbing agony
of partings, sorrow pain that I could die before.
I never knew it possible to soar so high;
and why? For there was not a you and I before.
The soft throaty purr
Of a returning plane
Bringing back memories
Of sun dappled waves
Washing sun drenched sand
Where bodies bronze
On a rainbow beach.
Those warm evenings
when the rich red rioja
Lends a luscious lustre
To the spicy tapas.
How commanding
etched in sharp shadow
Are the towering churches
Promising a cool retreat
Within,safe from the relentless
Baking heat of flagstones
On fire.
Captured on camera
And soon to be lost
In dusty albums
Or forgotten on Facebook
Next year the caravanserai
Will begin again
The pilgrimage to the sun.
Ruba’i*: The Poet, the Page and the Word in whichever Order?
The poet en face the page: unwritten words come to head
Words await tongues to be formed for poems to be read
Heavenly bodies stretch out seeking caravanserai
En route to gauge the extent of the ruba’i’s ruby red!
• ruba’i (plural: ruba’iyat): 11th-12th century Persian self-contained
quatrain of 14 syllables rhyming aaba made popular in the West through
Edward Fitzgerald’s 1859 translations titled: The Ruba’iyat of Omar Khayyam
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Suddenly a moment's pause
remembered smoke upon the breeze,
enchantment, rising from its cause -
a hermit in a vale of trees ;
I wondered how my world would be
in keeping with his solar arc,
his caravanserai and poke
at one with the surrounding oak,
his song-birds, singing there 'til dark !
His spirit with its tether cut,
his body, like a make-shift hut :
I cannot live the way he did
my home is plotted on a grid !
(from the mysticseed series)
Am unready for the substance
of the bodhi tree,
I will drink the cactus rain
and wait for glory,
but is that water just the heat
tempting me to cross,
are those desert blossoms my
infinite regress ?
And will I ever be the same
where those sand dunes blow,
if my time has come and gone
will I ever know ?
Will I be lost unto my self
if the vision stops ?
I will lay just where I am
‘til the penny drops !
Seeing through the unborn self here
Through the unborn eye.
made that green oasis, my
caravanserai,
at one to leave or part with ease,
set down the camel on it’s knees.