The higher heavens kept her secret
that love once kindled, doesn’t perish with distance
It burns in the marrow, it gleams in the wound
Endless falls of the Sun’s golden tears
filling cups of sorrow with a final goodbye
Freya weeps for her lover destined never to return
she leans on the hammered gold wall
with partial face aglow and a deep-set eyelid closed
amber ringlet waves coiled, goldschläger drips
from the Norse Goddess this your myth of olde
its Óðr she longs for
Of divine madness
drowns tomorrow
she fills the regal rivers
and every tear fell from her
...glimmers lux vitae
The Maple tree has gone,
the storm broke it,
then it was chopped to pieces.
For decades it stood
as a gold-leafed palace that graced
our commonplace cull-de-sac,
now it has been carried away
upon overladen truck-beds.
Late in this graying October
a few curling leaves linger
around its bosky stump.
A burnished copper, a tawny russet,
and a powdering of old gold
have leached out
from its deep-set roots.
A slow pyre of Fall colors
has emerged there
where no fire flickers.
yet it forms a last memorial
autumnal wreath.
Gradually, teacups of illumination
seep from a darkening horizon,
a sinking light now rakes only mist,
yet occasionally at sunset,
a maple palace for a moment shimmers,
a gold glittering
to greet our colorless eyes.
A darkened road I travel down.
With thoughts and dreams suppressed deep down.
The devils fire within my soul.
It just makes me tired and old.
I met you just the other day.
Hair of gold and skin so pale.
My mind it wandered older roads.
And I thought of times.
I held you close.
The devil came it took my soul.
Engulfed our lives.
Destroyed our goals.
The repercussions I must hold.
Are deep set within my soul.
I chose the devil over you.
I know it was the day of ruin.
Forgive me please.
I did not mean.
To break your world.
Or crush your soul.
And now I lay a broken man.
On the doorway of hells descent
Deeper falling every day.
Closer to the ground, I fear.
Please reach out a hand to me.
Help me God in you I trust.
Give me back what I have lost.
Extinguish all the pain and hurt.
Tell her God in your own way.
My love for her it never waned.
It was the devil oh so strong.
That led me by the hand of wrong.
E’er since her deep-set love I saw,
My heart’s longing to her to bow.
Light as air her love touches me
And softer than dawn she wakes me,
She loves me like downpours heavy
And still, softer than dews dewy.
My today has no tomorrow
E’er since her deep-set love I saw,
My heart’s longing to her to bow.
Like violin’s melodious string,
Or rainbow bend vying with spring,
My life’s rare bliss she does when bring,
My within wants as if to sing
And my today’s no tomorrow
E’er since her deep-set love I saw,
My heart’s longing to her to bow.
_________________________
Rhymes and refrain | 12.12.2025 | love, rainbow, spring, today/tomorrow
As if in thoughts the quiet road seemed lost
As evening shadows looked longer and dark,
Young winter’s chill felt like December frost,
On tall treetops Sun still looked somewhat stark
But smaller ones were all wrapped in darkness,
Grief-like I felt the sombre shades of grey,
Birds hurried home to their nightlong address
To rest and recoup, fresh for the next day.
In no undue hurry to reach back home,
And trudging slow I saw a sunflower
On a farm’s thorny fence muddied with loam
Bringing to mind’s view a bright face turned dour
Along sad memories of my sister,
Of sunflower looking more sinister.
________________________________________
Sonnet | 11.12.2025 | allusion, sad, sister, sunflower
Note: The reference is to my youngest sister who lost her husband some time back. He was a busy oncologist with directorship of a cancer institute. She too with her own work in the field of education, and only now the two had the time enough to cherish a ripe, mature company of each other to continue with their hobby of literary work. All memories he mind from time to time. Alas, sad memories leave a deep-set scar.
My porcelain mask is heavy on my face,
A failing smile secures its fragile place.
Beneath the glaze, the deep-set fractures show,
A structure built just for an outward glow.
Each passing day, a weight I cannot lift,
My mind exhausted, utterly adrift.
The air is thick with words I cannot say,
Choked back in silence, day after day.
I long to say "I'm not okay" out loud,
To pierce the silence of this lonely crowd.
Nothing is fine, I need them all to know,
I’m barely hanging on, with nowhere left to go.
I'm at the edge, the drop is right there now,
One final push and I wouldn't care how.
To stop pretending, finally reveal,
The pain and deep exhaustion that is real.
The proper words won't form to capture the storm,
I hope they get I'm going over the ledge with form.
QUIET BREATH
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
peace is not
a fragile thing
but roots
that grip to stone
and hold.
it grows
in cracks
where war left scars
deep-set like patient moss
unfolds.
no flag, no hymn,
just quiet breath
that fills
the hollowed chest
at dawn.
it waits in dust
where soldier’s footprints fade
to find
the shape of calm
worn smooth.
it knows the weight
of silence when
all words
have burned away
like chaff.
peace remains like frost
on sleeping leaves—
a gift
the night bestows
QUIET BREATH
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peace is not
a fragile thing
but roots
that grip the stone
and hold.
It grows
in cracks
where war left scars
deep-set like patient moss
unfolds.
No flag, no hymn,
just quiet breath
that fills
the hollowed chest
at dawn.
It waits in dust
where soldier’s footprints fade
to find
the shape of calm
worn smooth.
It knows the weight
of silence when
all words
have burned away
like chaff.
peace remains like frost
on sleeping leaves—
a gift
the night bestows
and keeps.
All that has been, out-grows itself,
becomes monstrous in a mouse hole.
Thoughts pinned to carnival garbs
hang under night’s pitch-dark tent
to chew over minds missing links.
The silence of wordless clowns
mimes the shrill music of bats.
In a dusty room, the hammer-struck face
of a wall clock is a parody of my age
for it is younger than the hands that hung it there.
What great teaching unpacks this emptiness,
is it ancient, or as young
as the sleepless pad of my feet?
Perhaps as in dandelion seeds,
that act of their dispersal
has planted yet more muted revelations.
The dry rustle of mothwings --- a whispering
of some yet other enormity
one emerging now
within a threadbare soul's
deep-set pockets.
I bask in the shell you chose
And for just one moment
I remember looking up to you
Wide eyed and astounded
I helped move the TV into your trailer
I remember Adam, I remember the dogs,
I remember you
What happened?
What years have you endured that you
stand in your mother's yard, under her tree,
declawed, defanged, dessicated
so small
How dare you look up at me,
How dare you break away from your crypt,
You were a cautionary tale.
I
I can't find myself to be angry,
Not in the way that I used to be.
Besides,
You've done ten rounds with another demon
And those bruises won't fade.
They'll seep into the deep set lines of your face.
I thought it was her under the tree.
At last her hat seems to make sense,
A trick and a way of defence--
Worn with deeply low grips,
Was barrier to Trump’s lips,
And to hide eyes from prying lens.
_____________________
Happenings |32.01.2025|humour, USA
Poet’s note: Trump’s inauguration. He may have won second go as president, but it was Melania who scored a hat-trick at the function. It was her hat that stole the show and a lot of stir in social media. She wore a specially ordered hat worn deep-set so as to hide her eyes. Besides, with its large circumference served one more purpose, as this ditty reveals. See the photograph when Trump tried to kiss her.
Slow and serene could I walk at the jheel
If wore on my visage a pleasant smile,
Relaxed to core, deep-set laity to feel,
When weary thoughts were left behind to pile.
A seed of joy within sprouts peace and love,
What a perennial source in life it is!
But not for me in rush, ever on move,
Ever on rise a buoyant sea to seize.
Life’s leisured walk, a sprint nor blindfold race,
If to reflect I opt for peaceful pause
That puts me in prime touch with inmost face,
Where’s joy in chasing a gossamer gauze?
Too bad, it dawns to me on a late day
That there's no way to joy, joy is the way.
_______________________
Sonnet |03.08.11, revised January 2025| joy, journey
Poet’s note: A jheel (Hindi) is a shallow, sprawling lake.
Monsoon’s mellow air had made my mind to
Ponder on life’s past, fast backward and forth,
Till sudden lightning with muted thunder
Made me leave chair to look out of window.
There, resting elbows on a windowsill,
And bending a bit my old, wrinkled self,
I looked around with my deep-set tired eyes--
The children playing with rain in the street.
Above, under a ledge two lovelorn doves
Fluttering wings whilst enjoying rain bath,
And dancing at the same time all but lost.
The roofs of nearby buildings getting wet,
Rain drops making mottled sounds on their surface.
But what drew me out was the childhood face
Of naked neighbourhood kids’ nude visage--
Bare of any mask of life’s adulthood.
And something made me stretch my shaking hand
Out of the window grills trying to catch
Some rain drops. Or was it some childhood thrills?
And as if like a mild electric jolt
A wave spread all through my quivering self,
Which, leaving window and aged body,
Ah, out was in the street with dancing kids,
One more kid dancing along in spirit.
_________________________
Musings |27.12.2024| Blank verse. old, child, spirit, rain
It's heavy on my heart, the weight I bear,
Feeling it was my fault, I can't help but stare.
Three months of love, now lost in regret,
I blame myself, filled with deep-set fret.
His laughter, once a joy, now haunting me,
In my mind's echo, where I wish to be free.
His touch, once cherished, now laced with blame,
I carry the burden of sorrow and shame.
We dreamed of forever, but I stumbled and fell,
My mistakes shattered what we had, I can tell.
A love once promising, now marred and scarred,
Leaving me broken, with defenses charred.
Though time moves forward, guilt holds me tight,
In the shadows of remorse, I dwell in the night.
A chapter of love, tainted by my wrong,
In the darkness, where I feel I belong.
I know it's my fault, I can't escape this truth,
In my heart's solitude, I search for a sleuth.
For forgiveness, from him and from me,
To find peace in the storm of what used to be.
I cry in the silence, for the love I let go,
For the pain I caused, for the hurt I now know.
Three months of joy, now drowned in my regret,
I'm sorry for the love lost, I'll never forget.
I seldom fear that I may cease to be
Well ere the pen picks up my musing mind,
That, the seeds sowed may never get to grow,
I intend not merely fair fruits to find.
Fair, if a few fragrant flowers they bear,
If plants sowed stay tender a tad longer
Without a continual nourishing care,
And hope, my passion keeps up its fervour.
But then, I wish when time’s ‘pon me to leave,
My soul carries deep-set desire to pen,
That, a magic spell inspires me one eve,
On an unknown land to carry on, then,
Till I plant unsowed seeds stirring in mind,
Or else, my pen devoid of ink does find.
________________________________________
Sonnet |09.06.2024| poet, poetry, desire
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.