Line of inquiry:
“joy, empathy, compassion
on an upward arc
an effervescence eternal
causes bliss ignition to start” - Unseeking Seeker
When sanctity of sane sense turns into anger inferno
with fury embers erupting from the violent volcano,
curling up feral with the spreading smoke of spite,
rationale rays remain concealed in sobriety spectrum.
We need not run away from the blaze to self-heal,
or seek shelter in the disdained den of disregard,
nor we should ignite another flame in enraged soul,
face malice intrepidly, and feel good in retaliation.
As a fire can’t ever extinguish or contain another fire,
for, it burns fast in the linked space of attachment,
we confront malevolence with calm confidence of poise,
don’t let the flame incinerate the serenity of our souls.
When flow of absolution springs with love from within
with embracing empathy of mounting divine fountain,
compassion douses spiteful fire with sympathy shower,
emanating with timeless joie de vivre of innate ecstasy.
I fear when darkness steals the light.
And your image, I lose sight,
For in it, I always find delight—
Of staring, not for a brief, nor slight.
I tremble when silence deafens the music,
And hear not the sound I seek;
For your voice, soft and meek,
Inspires hope, never so bleak.
I quiver when coldness douses the warmth,
And ashes the fire from the hearth;
For your embrace is light to my path,
Wrapping me tender, like a swath.
I dread when rancor drowns the bliss.
And moments with you, I sorely miss
For the time of love, I always wish
Casting loneliness down the abyss.
Be my comfort, always,
My unending strength;
For none could fill your place —
Your love and tenderness.
pouring paint
splashed on night's canvas---
artist douses gloom
Beings of the mysterious light of creation appear on Earth
As the children of the universe, however,
Their skin colour differs, their hair texture is not same
Their lifestyle gets formed by their country of birth
Yet, the same blood runs in their veins
And they have in them,
The same desire to attain the mysterious light
From which they have all originated!
The paths they have to walk on are same;
They all need to find the means to survive
In a realm of temporariness which only serves
As an opportunity to atone for their previous sins
And to pray to be absolved of these
So as to be rewarded of an existence
In some place which the human eyes cannot perceive!
Yet, the stay in the realm of temporariness
Remains challenging as the children of light
Are subjected to the tests of maintaining
Their lives peaceful through the virtue of
Having tolerance for each other's differences
So much that having their flag on a piece of land
Has become the cause of ruthless violence
Which douses off their faith in the source of light!
Watching all this, the universe cries, as it only wanted
To see its children laughing while playing with each other!
Glass Dolls
Glass dolls in glass houses.
Glass dolls with glass douses
Of reality, don’t they know?
That the girl who lives in fantasy
Still sees a rainbow?
And all the poems seem so hollow now-
Because the light inside her is almost out.
Because of the existence of
Glass dolls in glass houses
Dosed with reality, but they are so
Hollow now.
I will NOT be like them.
No, not twisted and molded, not me.
Not my hope slipping through
The cracks of reality.
But my brain is so hollow
And Death is like a swallow
Fluttering around in its little nest that is me.
Through my brain, through *my*
Reality.
Does anyone care? I ponder with these thoughts.
No, surely not.
Because if anyone knew that me and Death are still friends,
That I’d play cards at his table
Until the bitter end, surely *that*
Would disturb them. And so I am quiet,
Day after day. Because at night my brain shatters
Deep
Against the duvet.
festivals flare up
in July’s fever
cooler instruments prevail over time
snare-drums’ syncopation
grass skirts' gyrations
blank verse douses their rhyme
mountains tumble
across the horizon
twisting the last splinters
of warmth
through heavy hanging
gray soup
listless lifeless
endless sigh
dogs roll over
mown grass
clinking ice
gentle laughter
fluttering chimes
cool breeze
sweet pungent earth
enlivens lungs
ocean cracks
spills sheets
steams stainless barbeque
sizzles fire pit
douses tiki torches
lettuce, tomatoes, chips
condiments
march back inside
under the eaves
gulping rare air
until it freezes
behind the window
white pellets pelt
big red umbrella
guarding the feast
burgers melting cheese
buns toasting
in formation
lining the grate
storm sweeps over
collective gasp
tables towel off
wet dogs play
music marries
dinner mirth
dancing flames
lick black velvet
Friday swells
into sleep-in Saturday
while weaver weaves
another day
A wedding may lead to a child
first one and then another
A strong, healthy marriage, unified
bonds of children, groom and bride…
Yet a wedding can lead to aggravation
even a parting of the ways
When a hurried period of incubation
douses the initial blaze
May yours be long and rewarding
on Earth, in Heaven ~ life-transforming
With empty capacious containers
the living entities
arrive arrogant
and depart desolate,
in between turn into
greed slaves to snatch
the unearned fortune,
getting sucked spellbound
within abyss of temptation.
In the inferno of
corporeal passion temporal,
the frenetic flare
laced by luring lust
debases the fervent feeling
of platonic pining,
but in blooming love
it can sparkle sublime
with the patina of penchant.
The chase of mirage
in the deceptive ego desert
etches the fragile footprints
of delusive dominance
with sandstorm trajectory,
but the squall of strife
over the dune of dwindled life
subsides in the inner space
of latent love configured
in the conceded cauldron
of self-less surrender.
In the blazing realm
of connived conflict
sane senses of sobriety
turn into cinder,
flaming the fiber of prudence,
but the shower of sagacity,
spurting from love fountain
with divine flamboyance
douses the fire of disdain
and
with the allayed ashes
fabricates the framework
of cordially congruent
epitome of existence.
In your blazing blood-shot eyes I see
you seethe inside in the inferno of anger.
The twisted tongue throws out raging words,
charged with the toxin of your venomous mind.
The sanctity of sane sense turns into
fury embers erupting from violent volcano,
curl up feral with the spreading smoke of spite,
rays of rationale you don’t see in the sun of sobriety.
I don’t run away from you to self-heal,
or seek shelter in disdained den of disregard,
nor do I ignite another flame within enraged me
to face you intrepidly, and to feel good in retaliation.
As a fire can’t ever extinguish or contain
another fire for they burn fast the linked space,
I confront you with composed confidence of poise,
and don’t let you incinerate the sanctum of my soul.
Flow of absolution emanates from within
with embracing empathy of divine fountain,
my compassion drenches you with serene spray,
douses the fire in you with the shower of forgiveness.
As the scurrying clouds clashed and broke
Sparks of light cut instant pathways
Thunder stamped across the darkening sky
Like an enraged beast, violently hurt
Witnessing this accident of a collision,
The sky’s bosom heaved in suppressed pain
In her sunken eyes, tears flooded unawares
And fell, drop by drop in deep dismay
The cacophonous wind joined in a waltz
With the drops tumbling out of tune
Holding hands from heaven’s heights,
They together came down in violent clatter
The grass and plants had a passionate romance
With this spill out from sky’s seamless heights
Drunk with heavenly elixir, the thirsty earth lay content
And glossy leaves giggled, washed clean of all dirt
As rain cleanses the earth and bathes the plants
It douses the heat and fire in racked minds
With sonorous whispers and cooling jets of balm,
It ignites poets’ fancy to compose verse and soar high
November.8.2022
~Placed First~
Inspiring Rainy Days Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Sotto Poet
The soil is from Wall-Mart,
brawny and rich as sweet tobacco.
Driving home
bag of dirt on the back seat,
aromatic atoms of fertility
pop unseen.
I tip the bag
wonder at the rich darkness
yet there are mushrooms of light,
galaxies of milk-spinning germs.
It tumbles through my hands
like mane of brown horse.
A muscular earth
that douses fingers in a laving of loam.
I feel the child-lings, the pods,
I know if I sprinkle rainwater,
the wombs of impalpable virgins
will fill with promiscuous
prayers.
She walks in the forest with crumbs in her hand
he swoops in for food and things, "contraband "
its a New Year of love a New Year of Hope
and all the pines trees are trying to cope...
Weighed down by the snow a snowman on gin
wants confetti for lunch with a mouthful of tin
She douses the light on the darkness so tragic
and all of a sudden we are clothed in magic
no quandary nights all past demons are gone
the Angel of Hope has designed and redrawn
The weather is lovely from her to down under
the brook gurgles softly with silence as thunder
When the ball drops in town we all clap in cheer
we're healthy once more like the Arlington deer
She walks from the vineyard all full of pure joy
the C words have died, thanks to Helen of Troy
Confetti is falling from a snowflake blue sky
we're healthy once more and we're ready to fly
“Forgiveness is divine fountain”
I see in your glaring eyes,
you’ve an inferno of anger within,
in wild fire the sane senses turn to ember,
makes you splash fiery sparks of spiteful mind.
I don’t throw you discarded
in the sordid cauldron of my hatred,
nor do I try to blaze you in flame of reprisal,
for fire can’t douse fire and my soul you can’t burn.
I emit the flow of forgiveness
from within like a spurting spring,
the shower of divine mercy drenches you,
douses the disdain fire, you rise from ash of remorse.
I pray to God, make my mind strong,
illumine my senses with the light of wisdom,
let the fountain of forgiveness flow unhindered,
so, I forgive others for wrong doings, I beseech my soul.
October 31, 2021
Contest : Your Own Philosophy Statement
Sponsor : Chantelle Anne Cooke
This land is played out on a plain bible.
Nightlights smear a frigid fog, the fumes of idling cars.
A flat-lined wind plies its wheezy bellows through burrowing bones,
smothers the distance, douses the glint of rural glimmers.
Knuckled chills know how to fang a wrist,
nip tender tongues, freeze the rivers run.
Here in the burbs the lights of bistros cannot withstand
their own desolate backyards. A scree heap of black curb
is not crossed by the lightly shod but must be booted-in and leveled.
At such times, winter lends a shivering hand
at its own burial. We become priests all frocked in fleece,
heads bowed or we howl a tune to a faceless moon.
Good or gone to the bad, we are there, in Ohio, anywhere.
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