Concerns sit out there
on the periphery,
the suffering and misery of wars,
deaths by disasters be it
by natural or human causes,
the reckless diminution
of forests -
all creep like shadows
across the face of the earth.
What can I do
but be a witness
and add a frail voice
to a powerless chorus
calling out from under the heel
of wealth and might -
to be labelled
a soft centered dreamer
of dreams long abandoned
in favor of the more
popular cult of the self's
omniscience.
I find a place somewhere
in the stillness of an evening
and thought by thought, try
to dismantle the pretenses
of who I am
and in that cleared arena
invite the good to speak
and make room for the cries
of the afflicted to rise up
from out of the earth.
I do not know whether
their voices will be heard
or, like sounds carried
on the winds,
slowly exhaust and disperse
into the distances
of an evening
and the greater universe
Deafening
Disturbance
Does
Dolefully
Dictate a
Detraction
Dancing
Diligently
Despite the
Daring
Departure
Decision; for
Diminution of
Distance,
Derogation of
Distraction,
Depreciation of
Diversion all
Determine
Dedication
Devout
Disciples
Douse in
Dreams of
Deity in a
Developing
Delicate
Silent
Desire towards
Delightful
Devotion of the
Divine
The eyes of mild dawn on the body of sky
No nose to smell
No ear to hear
No tongue to speak and taste
No hand to touch
No leg to walk away
Just has open breast where heart is playing
A divine ancient game
White rose water on the field
Fertile land in contented embracing
Watering, planting; Watering, planting
No fertilizer comes to interfere
No locust comes to deter far
Yet, swindled all in the imperishable air
Luster of eyes in diminution fair,
In blind, deaf and dumb gyre
No more this time-
Within the blink of eye
Sleeping is wrecked into smile
World finds the sweet child
©Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
31/10/2022
See that the merciless spear of time wounds the senses
it's the molecules inside you that stagger dizzily
the ancestral oracle didn't need to warn you
that this distressing moment would one day come
now that it is sublime to be touched by the sunset
eyes look totally happy to disobey you
I had to face it with amazement disguised as tranquility
the sad diminution of the damn sound perception
that gradually transformed my favorite songs
in these whispers that seem like ghostly sighs
see that the emblematic spear of time wounds the senses
it is the flame of life that shone brightly and now dies.
Happiness
is easier achieved
not by the accumulation of riches
but rather
by the diminution of our needs and
of our desires!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
04 August 2020
Fifty years ago this July
Three American astronauts put the lie to 'Why'
On the surface of the Moon they made a pinpoint landing
Primitive technological devices notwithstanding
We thought the era of space exploration had started
But after only six more missions, the Moon we departed
For 47 years now we haven't been back
It is raw courage, or determination, that we lack?
Sad to say, it's a fundamental distortion of human vision
No longer do we look outside ourselves for challenges to meet and surpass
We've become self-absorbed narcissists, content to sit on our arses
This diminution of our vision comes at a steep price
When the going gets rough, be it at home or abroad
Our instinct is to give up, not to make sacrifices
Flakes as silent satin
Sail down salubriously
Dissipating into stupefaction
Hitherto ramming clay
They were the forlorn harbingers
Before a cataclysm of sposh
Burst through the firmament
Like a derailed locomotive
Besmirching any implement in ambit
The innocuous sniff of sposh
Vilifying my cranium
As with a burst of gore
Revivifying to the hub
After an interlude of rhythmic diminution and distend
A rapturous ardor of splendor
Garnering me into a frosty sphere
Of flakes and satin
Methinks it snows.
If only the moon's diminution of the Sun
Could eclipse the hate humanity has spun
What a miracle of Nature THAT would be
One that wouldn't cause any harm to see
So maybe it's a warning, the corona of red
That we may see much darker times ahead
Or perhaps a revelation that wisdom brings
That ALL life hangs on diaphanous strings
It is rare, indeed, with the sun in its shroud
But rarer, still, this grand life we're endowed.
The first person who grew wheat
would have been called “wheat”
and hence the local chieftain and village folks
would have given a nomenclature
to his discovery,
honoring it with his name
it would have been his name
or something rhyming with it
like “cheat”, “heat” or “eat”
or perhaps “treat”
there was probably someone called “gehu”
in India, who grew this grain
and there is a resembling treatise of words
“gay hun” (I am gay) proclaiming sexual choice
giving it a contemporary feel
of an alternative orientation
were they different people who grew it
at the same time, in the different parts of the world?
was it really Mr. Wheat
Or el trigo, blé or weizen
Spanish, French or German
was the wandering original Mr. Wheat
or cheat or heat or the Russian pshenitsy
who propagated this and we missed his chronicles?
and we missed his chronicle of travels
and basic grassroots experiences
of the genesis of rotis and cakes
of flavor stimulants, of bakes
and of the grass of wheat
for a figure conscious succulent lass
wheat and all its ontology
and the first one’s ecstasy
whosoever it was
had a higher calling
than the current day diminution
Take me back to the tryst
Love of ages is not my taste
Does stale love toast or fondle?
But toast is the soul of love:
When words summon words
Mirrorring the pumping heart.
Take me back to the tryst
Age is wear and tear of love,
Gravity on the wings of amity
Just back to the tryst
Where love floats on bouyancy of fond.
Love: youngest fruit on okoro tree
Easy shred , easy grate
The younger the sweeter
No , the soup of love sours not
The very minute it is cooked.
I say back to the tryst
There is no diminution in tenderness
But love decays with years and age
When earlier charm becomes stale or fade.
Take me back to tryst
Love of ages is not my taste.
New Year resolutions
They are back. Yesteryears’ resolutions
That evaporated ere execution.
My first one this time around
Is that resolves shouldn’t get drowned
Or suffer the slightest diminution.
This one sure was fairly easy enough
But the do’s and don’ts looming large look tough
It’s better for me to wait
Than decide and then debate
Those tricky easier-said-than-done-stuff.
Sorry, I have no habits to kick
Though there are a good many for the pick
I’ve no weight to lose or gain
Or fitness goals that are pain
Save a crick in neck to get rid of quick .
@ 31/ Dec/ 12
For Gwendolen's 'Limerick in the pocket'
================================================
~*~
wreathing this life's mind's eye - wrenched, gnarled, hit, burked
neurons in diminution - clashed, rammed, slayed
futility tops up canvass of murk
phonemes, words, phrases now frolicly played
heart's lyrical requiem overlaid
poesy - penned, written in woe death's crypt
shrieking the LIMITLESS lines of my SCRIPT.
~*~
==========================================================
*-* jun-jun villanueva
*-* " RHYME ROYAL " contest
^_^ ~~~~~~~~~^_^~~~~~~~~~ (0_0) (0_0)
Wreathing this encephalon - wrenched, gnarled, murdered
Neurons in diminution - de-escalated, clashing, ramming now lethargic
Canvass of verse and poesy - lacking, still vacuous and comic
But language and fervour is penned, tedium and ennui clobbered.
These graphite singularities
contain universes
unconceived,
awaiting
the Big Bang
of inspiration, but
narrative particles
escape like
Hawking radiation --
gravity’s diminution
evaporatively slow,
nearly virtual,
and random.
What a world,I find myself,
stagnant pools in wait engulfs
.....a vortex of negativity
the positive having to face such enmity...
Feeling the need to escape strangulation
surrounded by those whom enforce diminution
evil conspirators against loving transition
....only looking to exchange positions...
Bait and switch of a different kind,
as evil pursuance destroys the mind...
Related Poems