Diffused Poems

Kama Sutra

she had only asked him to come in for a cup of hot strong coffee
an innocent gesture in her mind maybe an interesting exchange
of thoughts on philosophical matters like love death and existence

yet once they had smoked a first cigarette the smoke clouds parted
like sea waters of Yam Suph in the form of spiritual enlightenment
candles flickered and incense filled the room with sandalwood and musk

serenity and pheromones diffused hardship fear loneliness and inhibition
passionate silence of words merged with quivering lips in fervorous action
and the pulse of their hearts raced in crescendo surely missing a few beats

velvet skin like cinnamon bark feverishly exposed unlimited desire
an immaculate conception of wisdom arose from instantaneous Karma
and twenty years later they still need no picture guide on how to make love

"the clouds parted like the pursed lips of desire" and that meant the world

The Silence of Her Muse

She was a child born of silence.
Neglect is formless once uttered.
The tight thin lips, the cold glare
of a distant mother's stare.
Father always disappearing
behind closed doors -

and so, she wrote,
wrote in the diffused nature
of the silently hurt.
She made no noise,
her pen scratching the air
in a sound-proof room
she had built
from cemented memories.

Fame found her,
her works were published
at first here and there
then within the halls
of a public posterity.

When she died,
she entered the silence
lamenting the words
she had not
screamed from the rooftops,
while she mused
ever so softly
in a darkly muted basement.

Diffused Sham

When you came
I kissed the thunder
under the over-bridge
of Tiger passing plaza

The tea smoked the pains of
mumbling slogans of the passersby
 
On the neck of the naked sky
the toxic lips of white clouds
dappled the bloodshed napkins

No room for memory to reap 
the chain in the yellow book 
to recall the stolen verses of trunks

By the cadence of borrowed emotion 
now everything is the bubbles of dew

© Mahtab Bangalee/Feb'25

Eventide

While 
watching 
and melding
with diffused light,
as the hues so shift,
we are plunged into trance,
dancing with unbound delight,
whilst yet present in tranquil peace,
as sol waves goodbye from a distance
and this dream we have lived for a day ends.

To the Singer Katie Melua

Permit me to say how much I admire
Your voice and music--oh, how they inspire!
Each note from your lips speaks straight to the heart,
Awakening love as from Cupid’s dart.

My world seems to rest when you start to sing,
Entranced to go wherever your songs bring;
Suddenly I find in spite of all strife
A perfect world and a wonderful life.

The shadowy room when your music plays
Fills with colors diffused by the sun’s rays.
Forgetting all my troubles, I rejoice
Listening to your mesmerizing voice.

From fields of gold to the streets of Beijing
My thoughts take flight by each pluck of the string
Of your guitar, and then Time passes by
Like riding a sailboat where Sea meets Sky.

Thank you, Star, for your enchanting presence,
For piece by piece I feel my existence
Radiates at the sound of tones so sweet
From an Angel that makes a day complete. 
 
November 3, 2024
Baguio City, Philippines

MUSICAL EUPHORIA

Angelic melody play to thy senses,  
Rejuvenating with a magic wand's hold,  
Metamorphosing withered leaves to vibrant hues,  
Breathing life into a soul once cold.

Lulling a baby to a dreamer’s paradise,  
Lyrical notes entice heartstrings,  
Defiant of language, it mesmerizes,  
Transcending continents with soft frills.

From dawn to dusk, it jingles and jangles,  
Infusing joy regardless of genre,  
Inertia diffused at the festivals,  
Dance provoked amidst splendor.

INEFFABLE IDEAS

emotional
         truths
evoking
    memories

insights
of
   discovery
in
palettes
   of sensory
           enchantment
diffused
in
exploration
languish
 in fragility
&
wither
 in
   the
     shadow
of the
        poignant

Illumination - TRI

Your music never fails to make
the stars go dancing in the dark.
The moon observes them wide awake,
and floods of light stream down the park.

The stars go dancing in the dark
and paint the sky in silver dyes
to sparkle and to mesmerize.

The moon observes them wide awake.
Then lightens up as if amused
to see celestials diffused.

And floods of light stream down the park.
It's time for my heart to rejoice;
it is the music of your voice.

Spellcaster

A cabin sees a creature cool from night of crawl and hunt in all
of gravely stone and street in tone of light diffused by wane of moon 
a toothless gum with tutting tongue clicks her way like bats among
the trees with hair of oaken leaves that perk each morn’ upon the sun
but she with book to under-arm, her book of chanting, her grimoire
be carried lo and carried far and braced for spell when suiting her
this creature crone of caustic mouth who oft’ alone with cackled laugh
does shriek and scorn a charm or more, 
     did witch, the spell 
           did witch, she cast

Raining in Summer

Unseasonal summer rains at once burst
Everywhere litter and garbage dispersed
Making men run here and there for shelter
In no time, life becomes helter-skelter 
 
Unexpected like facing an old friend
Heat waves turn into zephyrs in the end
Enraptured by a great relief to hearts
Pleasant weather diffused in many parts

Unlucky for farmers who toiled year long
Grains stay afloat; a heart rendering song
In the wink of an eye, things go tumbled
Happy dreams about their kindred crumbled

Unkind like a bad master who reviles
Vicious arrows of words for making trials 
With tongue lashing, makes the servants feel hurt
As huge hailstones thudding down with a spurt

Unfurls an eye feasting vibrant rainbow 
Cleans air and makes leaves look fresh and aglow
Koel starts singing as if spring gets back
A curtain raiser to ‘Fall’ next on track


Place: 2nd

Knowing by becoming

Each morn we ready ourself for a bout
Flouting laws of God without feeling shame
Conscience that once whispered, begins to shout
But we heed it not, unable to tame
Ego urge that offers excuses lame
So we dwell in darkness without a clue
That deluded is ego’s claim to fame
Diffused komorebi light will not do

Partial awakenings shroud mind in doubt
Heart knows for sure when soul becomes the flame
Divine love, light and bliss begins to spout
Held flicker-free in our mind-body frame
Distanced from thrust of lust that tends to maim
Whence we garner wisdom known to but few
Knowing for our follies we are to blame
Diffused komorebi light will not do

Recognising God’s laws we ought not flout
We see God’s light in all souls as the same 
Then gentling our touch, as we go about
We breeze through life as though it is a game
Yet holding firm focus and our soul’s aim
Making our heart pure like fresh morning dew
Eternal light of Self, we thus reclaim
Diffused komorebi light will not do

Transmuted as living light, we exclaim
If thoughts be but still, we’ll get a clear view
Of heaven within heart, scriptures acclaim
Diffused komorebi light will not do

The Grandeur of Fall

The magical season, so bewitching
in displaying three seasons in a row.
Fall’s mystique starts with Summer’s warmth pitching
fun in the sun, strolls under moonlight glow.

Weeks in, comes splendid spectacle of hues
of Autumn leaves, green leaves turn to array
of yellow, orange, red, gold, brown diffused
creating one of nature’s rich displays.

Then flaunt of Halloween decorations,
costumes and delight in many faces.
Months in, the awaited celebration
of nature’s richness and thankful praises.

       Fall ends with preview and taste of Winter.
       Snow, like crystals glitter, but can hinder.

Method Actor

A smile painted on, hair removed from my chin. 
Another day of pretence about to begin. 
False interest in the latest fashions and trends. 
Fabrication of engagement to allow ends to meet ends. 

Each contrived interaction wished quickly away. 
Although nobody realises, as I act through my day. 
Conversations conducted with unwitting stealth. 
Insofar as I struggle to distinguish 'me' from myself. 

An identity distorted a strain on my morals. 
Struggling to navigate life's insignificant quarrels. 
Dismissive remarks, I've had a day and a life full. 
As insults fire from your tongue like a bolt-action rifle. 

Diffused with humour and previously learned guidance. 
The gap between who I was and who I am significantly widens. 
The question 'who am I?' continues to stop and then start. 
It can only be answered with 'what stories am I a part?'. 
Like a chameleon meandering, transient through the day. 
Depending on the act, and the part that I play.

Composing Destiny

I dream poetry;
I breathe poetry, for poetry 
calls your name, feeling your 
inerrant essentia—
your soul bleeds into mine—
a collision of cosmos, 
diffused magnetically, once 
a vagrant in a haze of miasmic 
vapors—wildered and exposed—
you unshackled me from 
this purgatory;
inversely immersing me in 
your sphere of solace, and 
blooming artistry, 
lulling the vast polarities 
splintering each layer of my veracity.
I dream poetry,
for your love drizzles 
burgeoning constellations, amid 
rosette sepals galvanizing my 
orphic nuclei, with 
every spark we sigh, 
tethered to the infinite composition 
of our unwavering love compellingly, 
beyond heaven and earth, 
devoted to you—
your fallen star; no longer silent, circling 
nocturne arias entwining our destiny.

Kaleidoscope

The revolving wheel of the ceaseless time 
rotates the contrived kaleidoscope of life, 
the riveting patterns change persistently 
in the mélange of motif within the mind.

The chameleon colors transform transiently
the visage of mind’s topographic tapestry 
into ashen canvas of burnt barrenness,
or into painted exuberance of emerald valley. 

The diffused dreams on the desolate drift,
cascade away along the stream of sight, 
meandering on the mesmeric drapery, 
weaved with the strands of ebullience. 

The vision replicates the wings of butterfly,
flittering on the ripples of the rapturous air,
and before it flies away beyond the horizon,
forms for me the facsimile of fulfillment.

On my lonesome travel on the tortuous path
across the green wasteland in reviving rains,
or along the golden garden trail in autumn, 
I am suffused with the splendor of colors,

As the shutter of my sanguine mind opens,
the flourishing film of receptive sensuality  
captures the sublime snapshots of beauty
for the collage of life called kaleidoscope.

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