To me she is grace, a radiant light,
Turning grayest mornings into luminous bright.
Her laughter is music, a sweet, ringing chime,
That lingers and dances a lovely warm rhyme.
With a spirit so cheerful, she scatters away
The shadows and clouds of a difficult day.
Her empathy runs deep, as a crystal stream,
A comforting anchor, a beautiful dream.
She knows every word that is healing and true,
And says what is needed for comfort to you.
No awkward missteps or regret in her phrase,
Just wisdom and warmth to embolden your days.
Her heart is so pure, benevolently gleams,
The truest of treasures, the best of my dreams.
She’d go to great lengths to whisk away tears,
And quiet the doubts and anxieties and fears.
For nothing brings more to her gentle-eyed view,
Than seeing a smile gently blossom in you.
She’d do most anything, wondrous and grand,
To offer a laugh while holding her hand.
So cherish this lady, so lovely and rare,
Who meets every moment with patience and care.
A heart made of gold and a spirit so true,
She lives for the joy that she brings unto you.
Inflated egos heads are swollen
Deception rife our freedoms stolen
To insane masters our lives beholden
From within self love we must embolden
Create a truthful joyous life that's coloured golden
Where ere befell a guiding light
Shining eyes beheld a glory
Holp toward a muted purpose—
A distant feigning glimmer,
Beyond the pale of words.
An aching need to be remade,
A sculptor's hand; a brutal vision
A child; a blank canvas,
A naivety, a submissive nature,
An eagerness to please.
Lead them to a dimming light,
There amidst our dying shadows;
There betwixt the Sun and Night,
Where line the winding gallows.
Where shame forsakes the birth-right
That a darker voice be heard.
And offer up their souls of light
Like the flourishing of birds.
The blinding faith sees not the wraith
Whose night has coiled a cold embrace.
The sun shall nevermore break
Where the twilight, some sayeth,
Precedes its visage upon the lake.
Darkness shall have usurp'd the day
And those who needed believe
Shall have naught to say,
Atop the boroughs as they grieve,
Bearing the known regrets
And we—
The freedom used to deceive,
To let embolden depravity,
To watch the flames spread despair and misery.
The freedom to preach hate and heresy,
To wrongfully endure—
For which we all shall sorely pay.
Trust in Love
Open your heart to Love
Truth frees all captives
Lights spark my peace to spread like waves of Ocean water
Hidden manna for bread Word of God as Love inside all creation
Under the moon we live
Emperor of mine we are no longer subjects but Your Friends
Best Friends with God Best Friends With Jesus and Love Restored
Under the stars I make my home
With my family Humanity our love is manifested as Truth
Hope as lights in all the dark and all the shadows illuminated by Love
Embolden my family to see all mankind as Love Eternal Love all around us on Earth
This is Gods Home we are all His Children here
Love is like a bird it flies and it lives free
We are like the birds we live and Love is Ours by right of Love calling us all by our name
Leaning towards the pride of Hoboken,
I learned to listen with both ears —
And my wandering soul—
Whose cellar harbours old kegs of sweet
Songs that warm the spirits and embolden one
With just one hum of that pleasantly unique voice,
So frank and euphonious
That I crave love.
SKEPTICAL THOUGHTS UNDERMINE VERBAL WARMTH
as offered aloud from masculine parted lips.
When brain doubts unexpectedly burst forth,
ensure same feminine brain shreds them to strips.
MOONLIT NIGHTS OBSERVE POTENTIALLY QUED
magic often downward fracture and fall apart
when a man’s truth isn’t evidentially clued
to a willing and attentive sweetheart.
AMPLE BAFFLED COUPLES DECLINE EMBRACE
if one is not genuinely enthused.
When qualms clearly show on one’s face,
the other’s face soon appears confused.
ENTICING, FOXY GALS HARKEN INTEREST
and good-looking men embolden heartbeats
so that when neither is indifferent
romance may take a stroll down High Street.
MAID OF ORLÉANS
Poem written for and submitted to “Myth and Memory” Poetry Contest, Vanya Evangeline, sponsor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A warrior saint came from the plains of rural France,
a beautiful maiden named Joan, dressed in simple clothes,
not of noble lineage, but of modest beginnings
her faith unmatched.
Shielded by heavenly whispers,
she took up a religious cause~
mounted on horseback, brandishing God’s mighty saber,
she fought for her country in the name of the Lord.
Unscathed from battle she emerged,
waving her banner of courage throughout the land,
but treason and betrayal
would one day bring her untimely end.
Alone she stood in the court of politicians,
falsely accused and forsaken; yet,
in the face of pain, Joan’s faith and resolve
would not be contained, her spirit and fortitude remained.
The humble shepherdess warrior, was bound to a stake
her body consumed by fire, her valor inspirational.
This humble warrior saint, later canonized and martyred,
continues to embolden and enthrall.
It is just another day
To be used as we like
To choose joy as our companion
Or embolden friction and strife
It is just another hour
To spend as we desire
To embrace love as a mentor
Or wallow in customized mire
It is just another minute
To be valued as a prize
To caress truth as life’s foreplay
Or nestle with deception and lies
It is just another year
To capture the selfie of all time
To magnify the light we’ve been given
Or post our demise by design
Hither all her desires, thither my fires,
Balancing both, burden became my life.
In hope of love I walked with wilderness,
Breathe in, breathe out, mundane became my life.
For an excuse to smile, I just shed tears,
Crematorium’s cauldron became my life.
You came to my world, to a wrong address,
To blessings beholden became my life.
Flowers vie with thorns in this dual world,
What a prickly garden became my life!
To a tinderbox of bamboo forest
You came and golden fire became my life.
As time passed more embolden you became,
You a warden, pardon became my life.
______________________________
Ghazal |16.03.2025 | life, love, desire, expectations
Note: Most people are stuck with two types of life: one that is lived, and the other he wishes to live. This Ghazal depicts this dilemma that often persists till the grave. In a way it says without saying so. The opening line in the couplet (matlaa) is without kafia and radeef. Inspired by a Gujarati poem by Venibhai Purohit, but no translation.
thoughts
feelings
fantasies
boundaries
in space
&
time
hazy
touching
embolden
upbeat
coherent
organic
notions
oftimes
unpredictable
endeavours
unmediated
unmeasured
deepest
urges
of
the
unimaginable
yet
gratefully
gleaned
AN OPEN FORM uses spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,& relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input &respond in a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood thus is inherently variable.
The darkness becomes golden
with lusters now embolden.
The beauty from the lit flame
showed bright on the pretty frame.
The drips from the melted pool,
shines like a silver jewel.
The candelabras stood straight,
for the brightness they create.
The room then silently sang,
to dispel the shadowed gang.
That our light will ever shine,
its glow, the mirrors define.
That cold sparkle of despicable antipathy,
which never waned and was held inside secretly,
didn't start any true affection or desire in me:
on death's final breath it'll agonize me!
Turning somewhere else is seeking vengeance,
from somebody so embolden by anger and apathy;
being unkind is showing the falsity of pretense:
cling to me and spare yourself more days of agony!
Compassion is another form of unpretentious sympathy,
it must be felt adequately to be convincing and genuine;
no comfort is offered, only shallow words that swiftly dwine:
their echo is louder than a thunder rattling any gloomy sky!
Turning somewhere else to find a plausible answer
won't alleviate the anxiety built by a tragic outcome;
come to the senses, knock down the wall of lonely prisoner:
behind it stands the road to freedom, don't be too fearsome!
It's either deranged madness or unwillingness to appease
an imploration suffocated by tears so mercilessly unheeded;
no arms are open, no ears listen to anyone who's wrecked and afraid:
will human mercy be shown when the tides turn and events displease?
"Referencing an old poetic imagism sort of poem I wrote some four years ago--almost to the day---wherein lies a paradox," ... by The Poet.
MIRROR, MIRROR
I was in a room,
there, I saw a mirror,
and then I saw him,
I told him to get out,
and he did,
and he took the mirror,
and I was no more.
--The End--
The Holy Spirit
led the way
led the way
to a yes today
not yesterday
His moving wonder
by His
... Spirit
move across the Earth
embolden by His Spirit
oh yes its signs and wonder
move across the land
signs and wonder
the ocean
the ocean
the ocean spake true
I looked at Heaven oddly
the island was gone
I thought to myself
what have we done
nothing forthcoming
what part of signs and wonders ...
Silence is golden
Brave words
Embolden
Ignite the fire
No refuge
From this pyre
Peace is a myth
Fairytale
Does not exist
True that it might
Most definitely
Be my fight
But I gave up when
This all proved
Pretend
When it's all over
No rainbow
No clover
If this is the cost
Well then
All hope is lost
If my heart you doubt
Then good
Because I fold I'm out
Amidst cruelty, bigotry, and hate,
silence, vindicates a crocodile tear.
The sound of silence influences fate:
speaking softly, in the presence of fear.
You witness a drunk threatening his wife:
while he sizes you up as you pass by.
And yet you stay silent; it's part of life:
letting your silence embolden that guy.
Complete silence is noticeably heard:
while the atrocities seen are ignored.
It lends its approval to the absurd:
a form of compliance, we can't afford.
Silence speaks the loudest, stifled by fear,
while the message it sends is all too clear.
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