Jaun Elia:
She came to my grave with her new beloved,
Who says that one cannot be burned after being buried?
Mohit Rahinj:
I did not die among the people of this world,
Someone killed me.
It was my beloved’s ploy,
A conspiracy to burn me even after burying me.
She did not let me live while I was alive,
Nor did she let me depart in peace after death.
She is burning me even after I have died,
She is not letting me find peace even after death.
She did not let me live when I was alive,
And when I was on my way to paradise, she did not let me go.
She is still burning me even after death,
Look at all the things my beloved is doing for me.
My beloved, you have already taken my life,
Now, must I surrender my words to you as well?
a heartbeat pulsating as living light
free from each and every limitation
I Am that dwelling in unbound delight
the source wherefrom arises creation
I was the silence before the first breath,
the nameless spark when the waters were deep,
older than memory, untamed by death,
waking the quiet where centuries sleep.
No cage of bronze can encompass my reach,
no boundary bends the scope of my sight,
I am the ocean, the wave, and the beach,
the shadow that bends to give birth to the light.
I walk through the world, yet I am not the clay,
I am the fire that burns in the marrow,
the endless horizon breaking the day,
the flight of the bow, the space in the arrow.
Unbound and unformed, yet forever complete,
I step from the silence and step into song,
the void and the fullness where all rivers meet,
the place where the stars and the echoes belong.
598.
Learn History of Contemporary Times!
Learn Contemporary Times History
Recent developments in this time of modernity
Socialism/Communism arose in Russia & China
Nationalism rose up in India, Zionism in West Asia
There was Cold War between USA & USSR
Smaller countries conducted proxy war
There were stiil conflicts in West & East Asia
War on Terror was initiated by America.
-12/17/2017
(Dumarao)
*WHN Poems
"All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible." -- T.E Lawrence, 'Lawrence of Arabia'
I am a dangerous dream,
That haunts your waking hours,
I’ve watched you begin to scream,
Your thoughts locked in their towers.
I kissed the rain away,
So you could see the light,
But now I can’t stay,
You’re spellbound in sunlight.
Don’t let those dangerous dreams,
Become your waking reality,
Stay within the sunlit streams,
Hold fast to your morality.
CONTEMPORARY VENTURES-:-
intricate
fantastic
atmospheres
inspired
fascinations
of DERIVED MOTIFS
simultaneous
straightforward
genres
overlapped
sagas
of TIME &SPACE
typical
themed
imagery
gravity
defying
There is no time, yet a clock ticks;
Break the rhythm—that's the trick.
See the poetic truth: tomorrow never comes,
Don't starve your soul while you settle for crumbs.
We chase the status, the money, the fame,
While true connection is brushed off as lame.
Look up, dear souls, from your glass-walled bowl,
Before the silence takes its final toll.
There is no time, yet a clock ticks;
While we chase the future, our own coffin clicks.
matchless
yet
remote
echos
simmering
facinating
inexplicable
in
faltering
emotion
the
seeming
impossible
ever diminishing
in
a changing
perspective
underneath
a
nostalgic
image
sensed
in
a sub-conscious
co- incidence
I am 1,248 songs of complicated rhythm. Prose and verses tell a story of my decisions…my indecision. I am skin shaped, in 42 different shades of foolery, a life lover doing my best to avoid an other, but they seem to be everywhere these days. Crawling out from under rocks, or latent in my twisted fantasies. I think I may be terminal with delusional romantacy. A proverbial symphony strung together with sinew and longing. Discordant chords bending into melody when I blink too long or laugh too hard at the wrong moment.
I can admit, I have been the composer of songs that I was never meant to play. Still, I finger at the keys, an untuned melody stretched thin across the vastness of possibility, a quiet rebellion whispered in 3am silences, telling truths I didn’t ask to know, but I can’t help but pick up on the tone. I am every note you thought I missed, the calloused fingertips of my mistakes, still strumming, still singing. Harmony may elude me, but the melody is mine to claim. Yes, I am 1,248 songs of messy humanity, and I’ll rewrite the chorus as many times as it takes to finally hear it in my own voice.
Now this species known as modern mankind
Goes after selfish aims to feed its mind
Its actions all focus upon self gain
And so it must pursue its greedy game
Its every effort is aimed on profit
And in this pursuit it wrecks the planet
It's happy when it's grabbing all in haste
But we must not mention its filthy waste
It exploits for it's always on the make
Plundering and polluting for its own sake
It fails to see there may be some comeback
When Mother Nature starts to give it flack
Maybe this species that's known as mankind
Will open its eyes and then change its mind
contingent plans for evolving
without withdrawal . Steadfast
characters in play on all fronts
present and accommodated
by the resistance. Otherwise
thoughts lean through
one another's meaning.
Leading is heard of
Naught sheperded
KLIMT KISS
gold blng
his thing
MUNCH SCREAM
bad dream
it seems
VINCENT VG BRUSHED PAINT
refined
it aint
There are two types of women, I've found
One type fights in silence, steady and strong
The other thrives in the spotlight, fierce and bold.
I could go on about the latter
But the former stretches beyond my imagination
How I wish I could grasp the depth of their quiet admiration.
The women of today, the second type I've known
I do not admire them less, but rather differently
For they challenge what it means to be women
With all the foundation, they still forge their own path.
I admire both their strength and resiliency
For in the battles they fight—silent or loud
Each one redefines what it means to be whole.
CONTEMPORARY
in
a province
of the genteel
aesthetically
pleasing
ilustrated
etchings
linear
meticulous
ccoladss
possessed
disciplined
abstractionsa
of reality
in
curious
retrospect
CONTEMPORARY
acclaimed
open
& unashamed
ceded
in
deep
reverence
to a
desire to
preserve
& to amuse
embody
a
conviction
of
sentiment
in
the
premature
change
to
the
perspective
in an
impulse
arrested
&
kept
alive
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
Looking at the page of the book
I got to know where our tears went;
were vaporized in the air
Sublimated to be white crystals and snowed;
On a dim stage
These snows were transformed into human figures;
Dancing lightly and solemnly
In a ceremony of purification;
The universe
Wished all the tears of sadness to vanish away;
Wished all the tears sublimated and
All hope for the happiness is heard;
Appreciating the encounter with their dance
I stepped forward
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