As flowers for fragrance suffer,
So does brave’s blind advance suffer.
Those that Moon’s silver deem dreary,
More so, full moon romance suffer.
Some who take bold chance with their life,
Some, as they take blind chance suffer.
Life oft makes us do hopeless dance,
Some make life’s very dance suffer.
Wooing, she starved me for one glance,
Married me by same glance suffer.
__________________________
Ghazal |11.09.2025 | chance, dance, death, fragrance, romance, war
It is not that I do not care
or your worries that I share
Your problems though they be
are not really about me
Sympathy not much
feelings out of touch
Concern forgive my yawn
angry I feel rather calm
Wrong or right
good or bad
let it be
I am sleepy
So stew on for awhile
I am neutral timid and mild
Maybe a nap and after I wake
we can sort it out, see what's at stake
Simmer down and go slow
ease off and let it go
If you blow your top
will it ever stop
Mediocre as it seems
dumb to others sure its deem
but important to you you you
for the hundredth time walk me through.
Seems plagiarism, isn’t a crime
Let’s copy lines we deem sublime
Perhaps from Shakespeare
Or wit Edward Lear
And poet’s deceased a long time
It's pointless alerting admin
Cos stealing work’s not deemed a sin
It’s really not fair
To steal works out there
It happened much to our chagrin
Known clichés which are now passé
Just copy them and post away
Then act with denial
Sit tight, even smile
And perhaps, get Poem of the Day!
At the afternoon solitude sphere,
Every sweet-lane empty seem,
The sun on the top with chirruping hear,
Dark in the room out it deem.
The pressure hits passive-pace,
All nervous gain, sense confuse,
The white-pale depressive-face
Look at mirror to know cause.
Head-ache fills in mind's acres,
Alone eyes still on some fills,
Heart seize with harmful-hackers,
Mild-mourn more remain in miles.
The unpair-unfulfil life led down,
Fall from tree;leaves with kind,
Mind wore more ornamented crown,
The sapphire,emeralded bars bind.?
"While the earth remains,
Seed time and harvest,
Summer and winter,
Cold and heat,
Will not cease."
Bible, Gen, 8:22
I saw the moon rising on my left.
I beheld the sun setting on my right.
I mused within my soul about forever things,
Things which we often deem antiquated.
I mourned inside over non-forever things,
Things upon which we are unduly fixated.
We convince ourselves that outdated things
matter less and mentally put them to rest
Rather than make become a quest.
.
But the wisest of us will learn to touch base
With things beyond our reach and discover
What they have to teach. In so doing, we will
Come to realize the value of such pursuits.
whatever is transient
we let go
attachments, fears, desires
rooted in ego
thoughts are dualistic
spirals of illusion
they but birth dream forms
cause of delusion
organic form is dust
God dwells in each heart
we all are one
who should we deem apart
sensory pleasure
is embraced and released
God’s light is the treasure
with which heart is pleased
love’s benign bliss burn
Divine Mother’s kiss
illumines body urn
with love, light and bliss
My heart pleads, and I know not how to proceed,
You shine just like phosphorus in outer space~
As Venus’ nebula that draws eyes with speed,
A celestial reign of elegance and grace.
In my mind, your love has always come with fame;
Your stars still brighten, needing no lunar peek.
With a lilt not lost in hubbub’s show of shame,
A space-born sight that many still deem mystique.
When problems produce a cascade of sorrow,
That slithers down faces as streams of warm tears,
Leaving serpentine trails beyond our morrow,
We still share our love—with purity and cheers.
A tiny run, then plunging up and away
from tiptoed feet that pushed and then released
from earth's constraint. How gently I essay,
and effortlessly - wonder is achieved!
In springing from the ground I've found my dream
with one knee slightly raised and balancing.
At times or with the wind do I careen!
But lo! Beneath, all things are silencing.
I'm drifting forward upward into space.
I peer below at buildings and at trees
diminished in their stature. I am grace
above them wafting hither in the breeze.
I ready and steady myself to downward go,
for instinctively I deem I must descend.
Anticipation - though - now starts to flow.
I know I can do magic again and again.
Intermission gives permission
For a little break
To use the loo or grab a brew
Or stretch, for muscles’ sake.
It helps to know, when at a show,
Just when that time will be
So you can wait to navigate
The line who need to pee.
But if you stream at home and deem
It time for you to pause,
You take control because the role
Of one-in-charge is yours.*
(pronounced “yaws” by New Yawkas)
No one in these days truly knows just what real love is,
Because they were once barely loved by unloving people.
Instead of trusting new people, they wrongly deem love as evil.
Whether I choose this one road
Or the other,
Or whether I decide to go left
Or right,
Or even to stay awake at night
To admire stars
And to slumber during the day time
It should not matter
To anyone else
As long as
I harm and hurt none!
The way I choose to act
Springs from the attributes
That are inscribed upon my soul,
Having been given to me
By this one power
Made of subtle essence
That it can be perceived not
By our range of vision and thought!
And in the same way
That I act,
I know, that so shall the rest of the world
So,
Who am I,
Or who is anyone else
To deem it worthy
To point fingers and to be judgmental
When
Someday
We shall all swivel
As blindly as moths do
Towards some blinding light
Which shall be our mirror
Bidding us to understand
That we had all been the same essence
On Earth even if we inhabited
Different bodies!
Do I exist, do I matter, am I garbage/
A voice whispers in my soul's dark passage/
I am a person too with feelings that swell/
Deserving as much as the rest of you/
Can't you tell/
Isolation is no fun, a cruel sentence/
Ostracized, I stand in my own defense/
Singled out in unjust hate, I ponder/
Why do they deem me garbage, I wonder/
I've done nothing wrong/
Just tried to be me/
But hatred blinds those who refuse to see/
In a world that should cherish/
Uplift, embrace/
The poison of hate/
Turns it to a desolate place/
Together we stand/
Though many are apart/
Healing begins when love fills the heart/
Break the chains it creates/
And build a world/
Where compassion radiates/
I loved You
That was my first mistake, stupid from the start
Plummeting statistics show, A fairy tale ending ends unfairly, on my happy ever after chart.
Feeling over thinking, and Losing all what made me smart
Now look at me
Bleeding, piecing together the bloodied shattered shards.
Trying to fix your mess
Cradling, as I fail to mend the no longer Beating and Defeated
Breaking of my heart
I should've known not to trust a man
who deem incapable of playing a role
which he himself cast the part
My name doesn’t tell if I’ve got
Some meaningly posh coat of arms
I didn’t contribute to national lot
But maybe I did for the arts
I don’t criticize politicians
It must be the easiest job
Yet I never praise politicians
For this is a job of a yob
So I’m a bit jobless you see
Hope you can guess that I am
An artist of air and the sea
A painter of skies and the land
This doesn’t imply that I stand for
The land that I thouroughly see
Political people can love it much more
With pleasure I gladly concede
I’m not patriotic since childhood
I haven’t changed in this regard
But this doesn’t mean that I would
Deem jingoes as utter retards
Some folks are ok being homebound
Some other prefer rock and roll
And some will keep silent about it
I’ve equal respect for them all
To meet me you will not regret
My broad-minded soul plays no game
You’d think of me:”haven’t we met?
But I can’t remember his name”.
You are alive,
squirming in my hand
like a dissatisfied infant
or a fish searching for water.
You are alive, we are alive.
There is something the same in us-
some spark undefinable,
except by contrast to its cold absence: death.
You have a mind and survival instincts
and stoic eyes like a sixth sense I cannot recognize.
The quiet of the dissection room
is heavy like the quiet of a tomb.
You would not understand my appology
and are too young yet to sing,
as I damn you to this silence eternally.
What is the gentlest way to end a life?
Oh certainly not this.
And which thought is more sickening
that God will not forgive this small act of killing
or that He deem it no sin in need of forgiving?
You were alive in my hands.
I am alive, you were alive.
You were in my hand.
Now everything should be different,
but life is so fragile and commonly broken
that everything keeps moving.
Like Cain, like Ivan, I keep moving
because life is for the living, for the killers,
for the things that bite
wandering the earth until they too are bitten.
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