In daughter a river seen I had,
Wee bit homeward tried to wean I had.
It’s so hard to say goodbye to her,
With clenched fist, home lush green seen I had.
Her life sea-bound imagined I had,
A live stream beneath sun seen I had.
The banks looking bare, she coursing far,
Home, not so love-less lean, seen I had.
Eyes homeward, life marine seen I had,
Her journey riverine seen I had.
Heart anchored to the birth-bound old shore,
The rest turning saline seen I had.
____________________________
Musings | 27.09.2026| daughter, goodbye, home, river, Quatrain
Based on a Muktak (as under) in Gujarati by Darshak Aacharya: Along with two stanzas added in anapaest meter.
Dikree mañ meiñ nadee bhali hatee,
Aitle to ghar taraf vali hatee.
Dekree ne kem karavuñ avajo?
Dost, muthee aitale vali hatee.
We surge the same heart-tube
Brother and Sister Corpuscles
Of poetry -- Scarlet!~ Emboldened! Coursing!
Clotless, no mere composing cholesterols of Time.
Immortal such fluid spirit never doubt
The muse pulsed us in and sacred throb
Will let us about – God judges poets not.
Blame it on the Muse!
Such lie Heaven will overlook.
Next to the ledger, I am certain
Also fondly abides~ a fine verse book!
There is a flow that tempts the beat to expand beyond the tempo of social endeavors.
I taste the sweet sweat of the dance that beads into my mouth like nectar of magick coursing through me to become more fluid.
Stretching out beyond the ether like a current swirling, swelling, and then motioning me deeper into bliss that vibrates in space time
Time that dissolves into synchronicity with movement of the dance
A dance of ecstasy watching her move and knowing that the moment is never ending, yet hinges on its own conclusion that most certainly must come.
Shoulders smoothly rocking, hips swaying, and eyes too demure to let words encase them with their limits.
This is the treasure of life being lived.
This is the worth of being.
EYE TRAGEDY NATURE-:-
always
again
eye
coursing
monteverdi
NIGHTSHADE
clangorous
sonant
smashing
viscus
youthful
TRAGEDY
forgotten
predetermined
devout
godlike
nefarious
always
an anchor
coursing
through my nerveroot
his
revitalization
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • July 13–19, 2026)
Kiss me when the sun sleeps,
Where the tangerine horizon meets mossy sea foam,
Under a blanket of indigo arteries etched into the night sky,
Pulsating with each push and pull of synced heartbeats,
Whilst moonbeams ripple on gentle, lapping waves,
Brushing against midnight onyx, silken sand.
Hold me as sea swallows swoop overhead,
Arms entwined, the scent of saline permeating the soft breeze,
Immediate stillness coursing throughout
As your tender hand caresses my cheek.
Walk with me to the edges of space and time,
Where our past lives merge with the present.
Let it all come back to us—
Souls searching in the mist, clinging to hope
Within each second of ticking clocks,
Fearing what may never come,
Until only our song sweeps through hallowed walls,
Beckoning us.
Remember the moments of euphoric ecstasy beyond this earthly realm.
My love, kiss me when the sun sleeps,
As we find each other throughout every lifetime,
Until the laws of reincarnation cease to exist—
Two souls floating endlessly in oceans of lustrous stars.
Raging tornadoes
coursing the land
They enter our psyches
low pressure at hand
To flatten our tinder
and rip out its studs
Our entry and exit
left deep in the mud
They hail from the flatlands
of thoughts we disperse
And leave in a cyclone
of verses they curse
Attempting to stop them
we close our eyes tight
But ears bid them access
— to welcome their blight
(The New Room: July, 2026)
Upon an uneven pillar stands an unending struggle, coursing through blood, travelling from one generation to the nex
Through the veil of dawn's mist, weary feet follow the jhum trails, while the ceaseless hymn of waterfalls etches the story of survival into the face of time.
The shadow-laden forest remains their unwavering companion.
Across the mountains, evening fires glow.
With burdens bending their shoulders, they make their way home-yet the weight never leaves them.
The flames die away, and the struggle is swallowed by the weary silence of night.
Within the humble home of the uneven pillar, dreams quietly awaken.
Before the first light, in the deepest darkness, the mountains sow the seeds of an unborn tomorrow, as if each dawn could coax tender shoots from the heart of stone.
Night yields at last.
The path is lit once more, the mist parts, and daylight returns.
Though marked by wounds, the footsteps never falter.
In the silent passing of hands from one generation to another, the same burden endures.
After countless seasons, through silence, storms, and time itself, the uneven pillar still stands.
early summer dawn
bald eagles coursing for prey ~
morning ritual
the bald eagle soared
wide wings spread over water ~
early morning catch
It’s misty green and blue I bleed from my eyes
And the pale moonlight watches as I tear my shirt
And jeans as I am transitioning from man to wolf
The scent of her clusters of camphire and estrus
Holy smoke and evergreen has got me howling
As the thurible is swung I'm still howling, better run
It’s midnight purple patches that I use to bandage
The wounds after necking with a vampire, in my veins
There’s a fire of passion and I can’t help myself
Ironically, I help myself anyway, to another banquet of kisses
Your porcelain skin, and my engorged eyes filled with skies
This vision let down on a silken sheet, a sight for blood red eyes
Oh the lavender sickness of vervain
And as you wait I have the musty smell of legends
To unfurl, and the crystal ball tells the future and past
Midnight purple patches and misty blue and green
Set the scene combining for this reverie of Aphrodite with arms
More arms than Shiva even Durga to pull at you
Don’t pull me under with you, my life is just beginning
Blackness, please leave me alone, I sleep in silver strands
As sleep demands and the sun is coursing over
While most tread the beat of the world in tepid motion
I run in rhythm with its tune.
Thump...
The blood pulses from the vessel above
Flick...
Rapid motion riddles the melody
Coursing unwavering focus overtakes
Seeps...
Overcomes...
A fluid of such awakening arrives
One of awareness so atoned to the world it rotates with the soil of mortality
Heaving heavy breath, in time with waves of wastage.
Drowning the echoes of whispering unbelief
I rise...
Rise in being
Rise in vitality
Rise in existence
Soul, spirit, body...
I rise...
I fall...
I live...
I survive in the absence of creed.
Before you set out to face
the day
take a moment
to close your eyes
and free your mind
of all thought,
inhale deeply,
hold it for a few seconds,
then exhale slowly.
Did you feel that?
It's life energy
coursing through your body,
revitalizing your spirit.
Now close your eyes
again,,
Inhale deeply,
hold it for a few seconds,
then exhale slowly.
Did you hear it?
God's whisper,
subtle,
tranquil,
will guide you throughout
the day.
Now close your eyes
again,
inhale deeply,
hold it for a fel . w seconds,
then exhale slowly.
This will jumpstart
your day.
Then go out into the world
and chase your dreams,
and don't let anyone
steal your joy.
If they try,.
you know what to do,
close your eyes,
free your mind of all thought,
and listen for God's
whisper,
then smile,
feel His Amazing Grace,
and continue
your journey through time.
Oh that’s it,
I’ve found it.
The thing that’s missing from this piece.
A perfect moment of pure inspiration,
What a fantastic thing to have.
Drawing in artistic sickness from the barrier around you.
Oh, baby.
I can feel inspiration coursing through my veins like a violent blizzard.
I’m almost done here.
Art’s Stone Age ends quietly.
Here’s the finale, your funeral march.
Sometimes you must be bold to create new art forms.
Now that is one beautiful line.
Slice and dice, my beautiful scythe.
Crimson, blood orange, maroon.
This color and shape,
It truly is a work of art.
You’re very lucky.
Because you were able to become a part of my masterpiece.
Dusk, burning in black flames.
Icy white, tinged with blue, an empty looking white.
Cherishing the sight of thorns and needles.
Barbwire hidden in crops.
Ash and spark.
Blue roses bloom under the crescent moon.
Icicles casting shadows that stretch for miles,
such nonsense.
Losing to such riffraff.
Tender muscles, warm to the touch.
Numb eyes crying like a raging river.
Can you feel inspiration coursing through your veins?
Spoken into existence through spotlights,
holding hands in a field of rats.
Blood dripping from softly parted lips.
Cut through the flames sword of Ares.
Guide me into the grave, for I am your instrument.
Till death do us part.
Deceptively handsome and keeping a few secrets, I am in a word...intriguing.
Honestly a bit sexy if I do say so myself...and I do.
I love the beach, in fact I make my home on the coast, absolutely love the islands!
Come and sit with me on the soft, warm sand and let me share my secrets with you...
I'll shower you with bouquets of chartreuse blossoms...
And pamper you with fruit, sweet as honey but with a hidden bite.
I'll shade you from the harsh sun and sing you to sleep beneath my protective limbs.
You'll feel the warm tingle of my love coursing through your body as you drift away...
I love you, don't listen to them...they’re just jealous...we are meant for each other...
You know I never meant to hurt you...baby, you made me do it...you know it’s true.
I Am a Tree Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
9/25/2025
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