Endearing Ms Eilish not willy nilly a silly Billie got her wish despite the stares
Crys of why guys are there any let alone so many glutton button billionaires?
Not adhering to age old sage adage share if you've enough stuff to spare
Uncouth domineering untruths sold smearing sleuths as society tears
Sneering about profiteering mining shining spiting climate crisis scares
Cheering racketeering careering all about that flocks stocks & shares
Leering snares creatives gold left bereft fearing they're not their flair heirs
Persevering with cold jeering at hearing protests that then fold no one cares
Scold civic critics nearing the facts spearing by acts.. pacts & unfair flares
Cost of disappearing rare species now just pieces of faeces in their lost lairs
Searing temperatures rearing still somehow our despairs never even airs
Gearing up for the veering apocalypse peering as the sun stun gun glares
Must be bold steering pioneering derring do clearing these nightmares
Who dares volunteering to stop the interfering engineering by the billionaires?
Ravine, art thou real?
You certainly look deep.
Thunder, o'er volcano peal!
Through the boneyard creep!
Hope, just take the night off.
O prisoner, take heed:
First you squat and then you cough.
Golden is such greed.
Emptiness, seep into me!
Flicker, fancy-free.
Time immortal, blessed be?
Sink him in the sea.
O Alliance Black Abyss:
Today I must die.
Yawning chasm, blow a kiss.
Shiver as you sigh.
Back in ancient Carthage?
O state religion, new?
Serenity, O my sage?
O agony, accrue.
Gulf within me, fissure wild.
Robot: reconciled?
Mother, father, clasp thy child.
Floor, monolith, tiled.
Dreams of our tomorrows?
I cannot miss the point.
Endless are such sorrows!
O bitter art, anoint!
Giving up? Why, yes, sir.
I do not have a clue.
Reality, whir a-blur!
Doubt and derring-do...
“Weeping willow’s silent wail …” — Poet
Dead of night
thoughts of you
length and breadth
our derring-do
love overwhelms
flooding through
emotions swirl
as I cling to you
^ ^^ ^^^
I
s
l
i
p
u
n
d
e
r
engulfed in heartache
in the dead of night
Emma, Empress of Unicorn Empire,
esprit de corps of elementary school,
expeditious at exaggerating expression,
eagerly extending empathy of enormous embrace,
endless enthusiasm, exuberant existence.
Deacon, Duke of derring-do,
diligently, doggedly daily to delightful displays
of dauntless daredevil, destruction,
determined gamer, droll demeanor,
dearly dedicated to devouring desserts,
Dad's double, diplomat of Dreamland.
Kiwi Cricket's Shangri La...
"Can still hear the deafening din of the Indian crowd chagrin.
Stunned shell shocked silence at mandarins' sins.
Yet somehow still so loud
Like thunder down under in the proud
Land of the long white cloud.
Daring to dream of derring do plunder.
Upsets’ unctuous umami.
Shocks’ sumptuous serendipity.
Cast asunder as against the odds.
Hallowed Gods' anguished..felled & fallowed.
Kiwis vanquished the voodoo of Indian home hoodoo.
This purple patch, so perversely plush...got a hunch.
Would make even Prince blush, proud as ribena punch.
Sporting nirvanas cavorting with crepuscular career nadirs.
Can’t pillory this Test expedition, like the Everest conquest & Hillary.
Black cap sedition…Indian perdition.
Tradition debunked by spunky funk.
Not once, not twice but thrice.
Teeming..awash with gleaming beaming white.
Emancipation...damnation & salvation.
The Indian’s cardinal sin…not being able to play spin.
No way you can naysay.. just
Another Bill Murray Groundhog day.
As we learned..the underdog winner.. we yearned had turned.
Fat cats burned & stats spurned..into a dog's dinner."
Obtuse abuse..rude platitudes shout..
About alternative attitudes..generations..
Scream at different altitudes & latitudes..
Venerate mandarins sins..
Generate pernicious vicissitudes
Vicious avaricious machinations..
Celebrate nations chagrin…
Pander to propaganda spin..
AI garlanded reputations..
Cohorts in suits cavort in cahoots..
Kiss or diss..the abyss
Hiss of mis-information bliss..
Arrests..capitalist corporate conquests...detests protest..
Well got egregious prior & previous..
SO
Whatever your hue or world view..
We know what's wrong..doesn't belong
Deliriously daring to dream of derring do..
The meme..prime time you probably knew..
The Force..of course..
Is also seriously strong in you..
I stand a while and ponder, my tummy sticking out
my heels a little cracked, my thighs a little stout
my shoulders slightly slouched
my eyes a little pouched
my nails could use a buff
my belly-button’s filled with fluff
my profile lacks the pride
that claims a better side
not elegantly tailored with snug and perfect fit
not eloquent in speech nor known for comedic wit
not filled with derring-do
not blessed with eyes of blue
all in all I’m quite a sight
but that’s okay, it’s quite alright
for my daughters balance the scales you see
by thankfully looking not even the tiniest bit like me.
Dotty doggy duo, daily derring-do,
descending leaves decorating yard,
Beau-black as coal,
brown-eyed batty Gus,
barking brazenly, bounding,
both bonkers?
a boisterous, "You betcha!"
Kings of calamity-
canines of chaos,
squirrels scurry for sweet sanity,
scolding silver September
acorn gatherers,
sedulously seeking sedatives!
In days of yore a lady's heart was won
Through chivalry and deeds of derring-do.
If swain proved false, she'd bid the knave be gone,
Adjust her cap and look for someone new.
By age fifteen a maid was in her prime,
Her window for a spouse a narrow slit.
She could not pule and pine for love sublime,
And oft as not would take what she could get.
When knight set out to win his lady fair,
Through joust or other mortal combat act,
He knew that love for him she would forswear
Lest he prevailed with manly parts intact.
Today true love is not so much a chore,
And less dramatic than in days of yore.
For twenty years I have walked my curvy tree lined street,
and there're neighbors I have yet to meet,
I look into the windows of the oblong and squares,
and wonder about the people who live in there,
I was once a happy and energetic child of the nineteen seventies,
now I'm saddened and tired by modernity of the twenty twenties,
imagination and derring do were great companions,
now the children have safe spaces and isolation,
who really cares about the people who live in the other houses,
or if they have partners or spouses,
their living rooms flicker from televisions and cell phones,
sedantry activities for the lazy bones,
their style of apparel hasnt really changed,
and their values are generationally ingrained,
celebrating the holidays like good citizens do
I wonder if the moms and dads desire to start anew,
I walk up and down my curvy tree lined street,
gazing into windows and wondering about the people I have yet to meet,
sometimes I want to be a child and say,
hey, you want to come out and play.
Stranded in war torn Sudan,
Dreading yet another dawn.
In Wadi Sayyidna town,
Hopelessness was weighing down.
Men and women, young and old,
Watched the civil war unfold.
Homeless, desperate, full of fear,
Longing for their near and dear.
Then on 27th April night,
A C-130J took flight.
Manned by pilots skilled and brave,
Tasked to rescue and to save.
They were flying almost blind,
No navigation aids would they find.
Degraded strip, no landing lights
In the darkness of the night.
Infrared sensors scanned the ground;
No inimical force was found.
Using goggles for night vision,
Thay carried out their tough mission.
An enthralling tale had begun;
Six score passengers and one
Shepherded onto the plane.
Headed for their homes again.
Valor of the highest kind,
Audacity was redefined.
The Hercules and its brave crew
Achieved a feat of derring-do.
India's vaunted military might,
Wrote another chapter bright
In our valiant history;
There for all the world to see.
Written by Colonel Ramanan Duraiswami
AMC,Rtd
29th April 2023.
I Stare in the Mirror
I stare in the mirror and what do I see?
An old man with rheumy eyes looking at me.
Who is this old codger, this balding old shell,
Who cannot remember what it’s like to feel well?
Where is the vibrance, the get up and go?
Why are his movements so painful and slow?
Who stole his glowing skin, his dark flashing eyes,
His derring-do, courage, his sense of emprise?
What happened to big ideas? Future? Ambition?
Why do his joints fight a war of attrition?
Why can he see clearly adolescence long past,
When he cannot remember the thing he ate last?
It doesn’t make sense, I don’t recognise him,
With his belly and baldness and weakness of limb.
No! That mirror’s a liar, whatever I see.
Whoever that old man is, he can’t be me!
They delight in wearing women’s fancy dresses
Intricate wigs fashioned as highly coifed tresses,
Padding in places gives them feminine curves
Appearing like that would shatter my nerves.
Entertainers par excellence, they can lip-synch
While dancing in a line together all in sync,
Laughing and joking, sometimes in a crude way
One hardly ever sees them in the light of day
Exaggerating in fashion of the highest couture
Experts in the arts, the world of pop culture,
What leads them to take up this type of show
Female impersonation, I guess I’ll never know.
I do admire their abilities, their derring-do --
Becoming sensational entertainers like Mama Ru,
Money in bras, they laugh all the way to the bank
I am happy being a man; I have God to thank!
Written November 17, 2022
In the meadow a frosty morning chill
Greets a lazy, rising autumn sun until
Warming rays melt the remaining dew
Heavily-clad, I shall think of you,
As I start my morning walk to the hill.
The path is slippery, requiring some skill
I am especially careful not to take a spill
In these moments, I shall remember you
In the meadow.
‘Tis hard not to notice the cold-snap kill
Since I love the meadow, it’s a bitter pill
All that remains is the heartiest feverfew
With crystalline hints of bold derring-do,
Strolling along, I shall think of you still
In the meadow.
EIGHTH PLACE WINNER
Written October 29, 2022
Submitted to "2022 Marathon Mile 19" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
FATHER LAND
Think not to impress her with cheap words,
nor with tactics of a teenage boy,
hoping to see the conquest of a glamazon.
To sniff her fragrance,
is to break through an army.
nothing but a feat of derring-do.
Formed in the fiercest of fire,
she is emerging,
from the merry-go-round.
Only the qualified,
pilots her affairs henceforth.
the gloves are coming off.
To serve is to love, nurture and teach.
peace, transparency and justice,
marinaded in one bowl.
Great lofty heights she demands,
in love, truth and honesty.
She is my country.
Standing confidently optimistic.
no more mendacious tales,
no more sour taste.
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