The boy leans against the emptiness of his world,
his sharp elbow inclined on the wood,
holding up the burden of a young mind.
His red vest ablaze like ember,
the defiant flare of youth,
glows in the quietude of the auburn ambiance.
The background configured in fractured patterns-
a slate curtain, an olive wall,
capture the space between his thoughts.
His gaze drifts desolate
into the realm of reflection
where silence congregates in introspection,
embodied in emotional resonance of color
and in innovative portraiture of impressionism.
Inspired by Boy In A Red Vest by Paul Cezanne (1889)
Within the whispered wind, bumble bees
fly their syncopated figure eights.
Praying mantises fall to their knees
…within the whispered winds.
Rich blessings float from heavenly gates
and set kissing dragonflies at ease
before all worldly sorrow abates.
Sunday psalms sung softly in the breeze
settle where the flock congregates.
Hallowed ambience exudes heartsease
…within the whispered wind.
In the firmament, a frosty supply.
Winter whitening, within, without, high.
Each flake in brand new cookie cutter shape.
Meek congregates, quickening the landscape.
Base, torso, head - together in dreamland.
Snowballs giggle as they’re rolled big and grand.
‘Will he grin,’ he’s wondering, and perchance
‘an old hat, a half chomped carrot, nice stance.’
Contrast of black, coal eyes against blue skies.
Snow “fat” hopeful or melting skinny-size.
Snowman doesn’t wrinkle, scarf sticks, falters crown.
Man, in red garb, grabs coal, regifts, flees town.
steller's sea eagle
perching on frozen birch tree~
stargazing at dawn
17 March 2022
Syllables checked at howmanysyllables.com
Bird Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
1st place
Notes: Steller’s sea eagle, one of the world’s largest raptors, with a wingspan of nearly three meters. There are no more than 5,000 of these magnificent birds worldwide and nearly half the population congregates on the sea ice in Hokkaido, Japan each winter.(britanicca.com)
Love hibernates
Then congregates
Over a lovely gospel
In the middle of Autumn
The angels have not fallen
They rise in praise like the morning sun
What
Was it
That this
World
Was wanton
No more
War
They scream
On capitol
Hills
And in
The common
In Washington
Praying
This time
That those
Motions
Will pass
The Laughing Matter
We laughed and laughed it was raining heavy we didn`t see we were
off road and flew, still laughing- over
a precipice and landed in an opening in the forest
where rabbit congregates, we had laughed so much we had to go
out of the car and pee
Then it snowed big white flakes the stuff and rabbit appeared in
all white inquisitive as they are when stuck a neck in we rolled up
The window fried rabbits every day.
The dog got sick of the same food and wanted to go home
we didn`t have that instinct but followed behind as luck would have it
was only five minutes away a farmer with his tractor took the car to
the mechanic and we laughed and laughed making funny noises
of the stuffed owl on the wall….the house took fire and people in white
took us to a care home where we were giving anti-laugh medicine,
funny hats and it was New Year Eve.
What had caused this hilarity was because Hillary Clinton had lost
the election and Trump a millionaire was going to bring work to those on
the dole, of course, this will not happen and my car is not insured for
the Shoah that will engulf us
The Body of Christ has been mutilated,
Placed on scale balances for bidders,
His blood used yet still in profanity-
Drunk by freemasons and the guilty.
The devil has seized it, in it he bathes and laughs!
Why not? why not?
Our Holy Lord has been desecrated
By clerical cupidity and nominal indiferences.
Look ahead son, look over there!
beneath that roof where congregates
menfolk and clerics
The Body of Christ
is being weighed for the buyers.
the Hissings of mumbai
the bright colours of the city chimes
this motherland of mine
has many stories and tales that shines
the buzzing streets of surat
buried with past secrets
people commemorate despite of their different lives
all residing side by side
mango bazaar in valsad
designer clothes and bag shops
an orphan child close by
hiding his smile
i say "a hundred rupee for you young man"
he modestly decorates his face with a fragile smile
an eerie presence in taluka-tala
a place of my ancient ancestors
village-folk congregates as the daylight slowly become darkness
a spirited singing begger illuminates the night with precious richness
"A family trip to india inspired me to write a poem about the cultural,vibrant and cosmopolitan
some cities of india. A beautiful country with wonderful people"
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