Convolute Poems

On a Thesaurus Diet

like a ruderal flower  
thoughts persist 
resilient 
the ultimate foil 
for single marcescent leaf 
that's induvial
as ingrained habits 
distilled 
as a smur alights  
on the minds 
convolute 
like the leaf 
my thoughts furled
I bask in apricity
never to capitulate

Latent Lattice

Penultimate misty mile
resonates pined
sunset swan song
of forlorn footprints
transformed to
flattened anonymity. 

In the shadow of 
cleaved cloud
in swarming storm
turmoil threads
weave ordained
webbed horizon
languished obscurity,

Convolute canvas of
chameleon conversion
deception illumines  
the last corner
patina plays
beguiled buoyant
with the remnant rays
of sanguinity.

In the final flash
of the sinking sun
latent lattice 
fabricates in delusion
unframed dreams
of petrified life
in kaleidoscopic snapshot.

Who Are We At Our Core

The existential bird in the blossomed blue, 
flies abandoned with the rhythm of swan song.
The tapestry of time wraps with eternity hue
the innate immortality essence etched to belong. 

The winsome whisper of the extant wind
rustles the lively lotus petals of perpetuity. 
In solemn space of sanguine solitude of mind
deranged clamor subsides in ebbed silent entity.

Beneath the convolute layers of self-deception,
thousand suns shine perennially in blissful bay.
In the seraphic sky within of supreme perception,
ageless consciousness dances with nirvana rays.

“we look for that that does not come and go
it cannot be organic form, subject to decay 
thoughts and beliefs are fickle, how little we know
yet come what may, our inner child continues to play”
(Line of enquiry)

Wabi-sabi

For me you’re designed, mesmeric scarred moon, 
grace gleams in the convolute cradle of cyan night, 
slithers in the silken sky I create for you,
a turquoise trail you trace in my heart incised.

Thunder cloud surges from the edge of stained night, 
the debris of the splintered sky swathes me.
You retreat in the glare of anguish lightning, 
searing the slivers of my fissured essence.

I travel in the tempest of strife,
serenade the broken notes of an unsung song,
in sync with the symphony of flawed passion,
making untuned melody in the snapped string of memory.

In the blemished visage of the veiled sun, 
I paint on the scraped sensual canvas 
your frail face with fragmentary fervor,
sedately smiling eyes sparkle my deranged dream.

On the charismatic canvas cracked,
my failing longing lingers in your effervescent eyes.
Etched in the invented lattice of patterned splendor, 
your unsplit smile shimmers unspoilt.

Platitude Plateau

Up the delicate dale 
of latticed life,
at esoteric edge 
of sinking sky,
hermit horizon 
shimmers sensuous,
glows paled passion. 

On convolute contours 
of scrambled dream, 
whirlpool desire 
swivels in inert stream, 
arcane mindscape 
usurped unsculpted 
in twilight obscurity. 

In platitude plateau,
the final flow
originates inspired,
ordained for
integral fusion 
with supreme sea, 
the end embrace 
of sublime silence.

Suffused whelmed
with sunrise hues,
longing precipitates,
perpetuity illusion
embeds eternity efflux,  
carries virtually
the vibrant soul 
to the buoyant bay 
of bliss.

W T F W T

In the slate horizon static like a slab of rooted rock,
charcoal clouds clambered from its convolute edge
with the storm that rushed with the gruelling gale,
carrying the cascade of the melted splintered sky.

The mesmerizing music of the whistling wind,
the symphony of raindrops on the shaking leaves,
drew me out to the backyard veranda,
where I stood enthralled by the sonata of shower.

Wanting to join the concert I turned on the tape recorder,
played the classical music of Megh Malhar*,
the melody mingled with the echo of the remote thunder,
and with the mellow tune resonating in the strings of rain.

The wind-swept raindrops splashed on my forehead,
dripped down the closed eyes with the touch of weird silence.
In those mystique moments of captivating exhilaration,
I was lost spell-bound in the amazing realm of frozen time.

As the alien wonder of fidgety waves crept on my body,  
my rapt voice quivered with acronymic shriek, W T F W T. 

(*Megh Malhar is the melody of rain in Indian classical music)

Why Are We Here

Life is the epithet of unique existence,
the construct of divine elements almighty designs
with the heavenly essence suffused
in the coalesced trinity of body, mind and soul.

Trying to get released from the egoistic clasp  
of karmic destiny, leading to loss of the sense of self,
the perception of the pervading divine conscience 
transcends the space-time limits for inward journey.

Beneath the convolute layers of the clouded mind,
at its inner depth soul perceives the awareness dawn, 
creating the holy linkage with the absolute, 
and comprehends the meaning of existence.

As the divine lotus serenely unfurls within 
with the perception of His endowment of nirvana, 
beautifies the sublimated life with heavenly adornment, 
the supreme then assimilates the undying soul.

Devoid of the body and with the acquired intelligence,
the liberated soul transcends the mortal existence, 
reaches the realm of eternity to realign
with divine consciousness for which we are here.

Loves Lost Time

A thunderous rumbling,
lightning flashing
all within my troubled brain,
I wander in a daze,
afraid of crashing.
The cause is plain,
I must see you again.

The passing years,
where each does live,
In joy and Sorrow,
and happiness spent,
Each with another,
who of themselves did give,
repaid by our lost time,
we to them lent.

It is not with covetous envy,
but with joy,
I look upon the sacrifice we made,
though self interest now,
is what we must employ,
For what has gone before,
was but a masquerade.

Millennia come and go,
and decades fade away,
I know that we,
should not have parted,
And rue what happened,
on that fateful day.
But time will not give back,
what man has started.

Exacerbate the problem,
convolute the time,
Pick the optimum moment,
grab it if you can,
To love beyond reason,
is said to be no crime,
Insipid love, however,
has no passion or elan.
and wastes the little, that there is,
Of the time of man.

Abstracts Are Never Absolute

He deems the ways and dares to understand,		
a measure of a love that went astray,
from libelled forces, which compelled his hand,		
to lies, and morals left to slow decay.

No one forgo or risk refute her right, 
a stubborn choice is seldom steered by sense.
To cease callow mishaps from leaving blight	.
sound case to aid her act of self-defence.

Yet, who can purge despair from a man’s soul,
who boldly baulked against such mortal deed?
His choice dismissed as outside his control,
no matter pleading creed, indeed, his breed.

Such anguish will forever convolute
because abstracts are never absolute.

06.27.21

You are free to choose, but you are not free to alter the consequences of your decision
 – Ezra Taft Benson (politician)

The Battle With Anxiety

My mind is an obsessive, tense, restless brute,
Anxiety broke it, put it to the sword.
I used it up, abused it like a prostitute.

My mental strength was never resolute
When anxiety eagerly jumped on board.
My mind is an obsessive, tense, restless brute.

All my emotions set to acute,
All common sense swiftly overboard.
My mind is an obsessive, tense, restless brute.

My defeat was complete and absolute,
My sanity questioned, my mind explored.
I used it up, abused it like a prostitute.

My salvation seems unlikely and convolute,
Yet, if complete, my faith would be restored.
My mind is an obsessive, tense, restless brute.
I used it up, abused it like a prostitute.

Till the End of Time

If from the edge of night a new day doesn’t dawn,
I wish I’ll make anew a sunburst horizon for you,
sparking the sparkle on dew drops in your meadow,
it’s me glittering for you, I’ll wish you to know.

If pale twilight descends with drizzle of despair,
the ebon night consumes all your dreams,
I wish I’ll rise as the mesmeric moon sublime,
with the stardust configure your dormant desires.

If dolorous clouds cover your convolute sky,
torrents of rain turn into your unshed tears,
I wish I’ll become silver lining of melting cloud, 
weave the lattice of love in your broken heart.

If you get lost in the forlorn desert of destiny,
chasing mirage in collapsing dunes of your world,
I wish I’ll become a fountain in oasis of longing,
drench your parched yearning till the end of time.

January 22, 2020
Contest : What Are Your Wishes
Sponsor : Chantelle Anne Cooke

The Trinity of Existence For Spiritualists

Life is the embodiment of the unique existence,
the construct of universal elements nature chose
to manifest distinctively with the divine essence
in the unparallel trinity of body, mind and soul.

Beneath the surface of perceptive mortal senses
the mind builds all the dreams it desires to see.
Haunted by unreal apparitions in fear it invents
suffering  the superstitious spell of surreal spirits.

Under the convolute layers of the transient mind
at the tranquil depth resides the enlightened soul,
imperishable, it sends the beacon of eternal truth,
builds subconscious holy linkage with the absolute.

Travelling on the undulating topography of life
an inward journey on the path of spiritualism
takes us to the ultimate destination of nirvana,
we learn the meaning of the trinity of existence.

October 5, 2018

A Convoluted Story

Looking mighty cute
Dressed in a suit
He was on route
To pick up a loot
Ever so resolute

Arrived at the institute
He thought he heard them call him a cloot
Or maybe it was a galoot
He really wasn’t absolute
These days his hearing is acute

They said he had to wait over by the chute
They had something to compute
Just a problem to troubleshoot
So they had themselves a moot
He thought they meant we don’t give a hoot

Meanwhile after adjusting his boot
He sat and ate both halves of a grapefruit
Then while waiting he played his flute
With his good eye watching things convolute
He too has his moments to be astute

They looked intensely involute
The teller in her jumpsuit was a beaut
The manager a snoot and a brute
He could tell by their salute
They were in cahoot’

Hold’it! Hit the pause or press the mute
His patience growing ever so minute
He could tell there’d been a fraudulent substitute
Persecute Prosecute There’s going to be a lawsuit
Someone’s been tempted by the forbidden fruit



Submitted on December 21, 2018 for contest BUNNY JUMP HONEY LUMP FUNNY CHUMP sponsored by CAREN KRUTSINGER  -  RANKED 3RD

Originally posted on February 17, 2018

Loves Lost Time

A thunderous rumbling, 
lightning flashing 
all within my troubled brain,
I wander in a daze, 
afraid of crashing.
The cause is plain,
I must see you again.

The passing years,
where each does live,
In joy and Sorrow,
and happiness spent,
Each with another,
who of themselves did give,
repaid by our lost time,
we to them lent.

It is not with covetous envy,
but with joy,
I look upon the sacrifice we made,
though self interest now, 
is what we must employ,
For what has gone before,
was but a masquerade.

Millennia come and go,
and decades fade away,
I know that we, 
should not have parted,
And rue what happened, 
on that fateful day.
But time will not give back,
what man has started.

Exacerbate the problem, 
convolute the time,
Pick the optimum moment,
grab it if you can,
To love beyond reason,
is said to be no crime,
Insipid love, however, 
has no passion or elan.
and wastes the little, that there is,
Of the time of man.

A Fair Game of Chess

Mischievous Puck, 
your flower has once again struck
where it should not. 
Beguiling the eyes and the minds to love those 
that they should not. 

Oh! Wicked Robin,
how dare you convolute something
so precious into a farce.
Making my love into your game
with players to take me down. 

My dear Goodfellow, 
i shall not play this game of yours, for my heart is at stake. 
But with this rook coming for the queen,
the king evading, and the fair knight distracted from his duty...
what choice do I have?

Little Fairy- 
i shall break your rook if you continue to advance it!
My white knight shall ride to me eventually
-and if my knight is lost-
then for certain i shall capture the king.
 
Silly fae-
if my knight is not lost then he shall become king
for it is this queen's decision and not yours 
as to what moves i make inside the court of play. 
Did I mention? 

Checkmate

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