Foul tempest wind dost beset thy slumber,
its rain doth drain and dampen to stupor.
I rithe at thy great agony's bequest,
haunted by frightening reminiscence.
'Still the torrid pleas of thy soul!', I cry.
Thunder does naught to distill the shrill screams.
Lightning drenches me in thick vulgar sweat;
heart racing, mind pacing, fervent unrest.
'Will I e'er see a brighter morn than this?';
for foul tempest has consumed most my years.
But just then, when all seemed undone, foregone;
rain culls, clouds lift, and a rainbow now dawns.
09.02.2026
('Resist the devil, and he shall flee')
('I have set my rainbow in the clouds...')
I read her eyes for all details
For, word vouched dies with all details.
Truth wiser is with all details,
As it culls from lies all details.
The hearth was hushed, so was my maw,
Her hush apprised with all details.
She could not tell me all the truth,
Now her silence tries-- all details.
What was not said and left unsaid,
Her reserve spies with all details.
_________________________
Ghazal |17.09.2025 | eyes, lies, silence, truth, words
I feel as though I'm between the devil and the deep sea.
Helplessness, like a gale, culls me away from existence.
From all clutches of stresses and strains, I want to be free
Moments move as though streams with no sense of deliverance.
With sloth, wrath, envy, and pride, my plates and cups are full
I thirst for mercy, compassion, forgiveness, and healing.
I wash and wash my linen, which soon turns again soiled wool.
Why do my jars of hemlock provoke in me a proud feeling?
Like a child fallen into a marshy pit, I raise my hands.
Tears secrete from the wells of my heart and flow through my eyes.
My life has often been like a dream of desert lands.
Will it be quenched with drops of grace and reach the divine highs?
Lone I sail on deep seas at black nights in my broken boat.
Far from feeling of finesse, farther from fullness, I float.
My eyeballs move as though witnessing scenes within eyelids.
Face, just like obeying commands of some far-off spirits, skids
Heaven, with the triune god and the angels illumine
I cross the boundaries and reach all realms beyond human
Truth and untruth are tenderly mixed like milk and water.
Where's my skill gone that culls out shapes from mud as a potter?
There's a sensation. It's like the touch on a touch-me-not.
Between what's seen and unseen, known and unknown, there's a knot.
As a small drama that is enacted within a long play
Does the unsaid truth sparkle, piercing the veils of each ray?
Do the deeds of good overpower the deeds of evil?
Between brain, bones, blood, nerves, and muscles, there's an upheaval.
Sitting aside my flowing stream of thoughts and thoughtlessness
Do I, the dreamer, discover my own dream's plotlessness?
Cuffed with cautions, causations, cognitions, and cogitations
Aren’t each dream and the dreamer bound by vague limitations?
Gold externals
of kernels sweet
corn culls butter.
caught in frigid traps
seals struggle against the sea…
population culls
*Strong waves hurled seals against rock walls, killing some.
Seizing each moment to be kind,
Listen, empathy employ, hear her words,
Appreciate small yet enormous signs,
Respond yet not overwhelm,
Cements our being valentines!
Just hearing her breathing,
Comforts, loneliness resigns,
Kindly searching deeds, acting wisely,
With Hashem’s aid yields love genuine!
Receive ruminations, attend expressions,
Kindles cupid, life as a couple sublime,
Despite turbulent exceptions we eschew,
Renew kindly favor time after time,
Sensitive antennae align the benign,
Middos Tov, being a Mensch,
Grow a good eye that culls the fine,
Delving with heart into her druthers is song,
To courage not chicken out align,
Surrender poetry not “Poultry in Motion!”
In loving memory the saga goes,
or so they say when feint reminder culls a piercing interlude.
Remnant of an unfinished sentence,
broken shadow haunt awash with grief,
snapshot at the edge of a well.
Parachute of blinding insight on queue or on song,
paper mache angel deep within.
Verses, scrolls, smudges from that pink enamel claw,
whose back fold clip appearance left one reeling,
like some
tree house dweller rattled by a swooping hawk.
Gimlet sipping voyageur
adrift on ice pack yacht,
in need of solace,
yet wishing it to the bottom of his rusty bucket list.
Fragile human being torn apart,
funeral bound,
that once upon a time surreal biker skirting mountains.
A priori stunt man metaphysically divine on rocky ledge,
dare devil prayer when it suits.
Feat performance activist a sleight of hand jester,
yet despite this vapid mask of dumb amnesia,
he wanders blindfold down
an alpine peak while chasing after dim and distant keepsake
Date posted :31st January 2022
Joyous heart tenses, flame flickers
Light of awareness dulls
Soul is still but ego bickers
Poignant lulls, joy throb culls
Void dweller, detached stance
To flow of life does dance
In divine entwined trance
Enslaved by senses
Joyous heart tenses
13-December-2021
Quietus
Rain slipped in
sliding on the din
just passed dark
came midnight sparks
before the light of morning sun,
spits and spats, tips and taps,
lulls and dulls,
sputtered mutters culls,
on the shutters closed,
clammy, dank, and damp,
click-clack, stamped,
pitter-patter tones,
on the walk path stones;
soft and harsh,
wind blowing scowls along the tarps
glistening glows
misting the grassy rows,
October doom looms,
harvests wells consumed
rain falls
as autumn calls.
We accept tornadoes here,
expect them, tick them off
as they pass by like demon dreidels.
Usually they are not a big deal
unless they are.
Spring culls its little lambs
in all sorts of ways.
The murder rate in Chicago
climbs ever higher
until the city prays for more snow.
Folks in their privileged trailer parks
get rolled like dice.
A pressing need for body bags
creates work for some.
The addicted and dying oblige
as best they can.
It’s all a small town hush
unless a celebrity overdoses
then distraught, the news is spread
from parlor to parlor.
Shooting-up on the streets
is a recreational choice for those
who camp-out in Cleveland and Dayton.
Meanwhile birds keep singing,
Spring flowers struggle to bloom
squeezed as they are
between such climatic collisions.
We hear the roar and rumble
of funnels turning upon themselves
as they twist the nights away.
Cool Master Lil' Miss
Shiloh's art-filled hoodie argyle,
warmly snugs young miss, save Charlie,
he rallies firm, quick briefs the term,
timely step shifts the sundial,
gray culls while golden spears briefly,
while life roams its normal lifestyle,
e'er discerning events may change,
as felled leaves crowd in a stockpile,
squashing in passing was gnarly,
quick briefs the term, he rallies firm,
her hand in his made all worthwhile.
2021 March 09
In cosmopolitan artificiality
he orchestrated ways and means for excited culls
Initiated to ensure free world buoyancy
To prevent corruption by power hungry moguls
Taken from Many miles away 3/30/14
Date 8/7/20 Gregory R Barden Sponsor
Poetry Contest Rithimus Divisa 4
charity culls care
comfort concern courtesy . . .
cradles compassion
July 23, 2020
Contest: Haiku or Senyru
Sponsor: Constance La France
Woman,
She lassos her tongue around minds
creating space in these harden times
she licks at the wounds
she culls up the glass
a virescent glow that forever will last
She holds off the pain
with a sacred of verse
charged up to the plus
we shall all come immersed
Soapbox, chair, on front porch swings
talking of peace and inequalities
journeys and strength
barefoot she bleeds
not caring for her but others in need
A warrior for rights
a woman of might
hard to the core
but soft as moonlight
Truth emits from her lips
listen up as she pleads
not gone she is here
girl, woman, she, freed
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