EUPHORIC EPITHET
disarrayed sands
derive dislodged
from
timeless terrain
settle bemused
on
stratified shelf
of
languid life
disorganized
in
dismantled moments
of
petrified perturbation
trustworthy truth
on
ruffled ripples
of
disordered discontent
oscillates
on
bewildered efflux
of
delinquent dismay
as
metamorphosed elation
reveals tousled
real pretense
of
traumatic transmutation
of
disquiet mind
drowning disheveled
in
distraught nothingness
with
splintered leitmotif
of
embedded emotion
in
sensual sandcastles
on
shriveled shore
of
eroded yearning
where
psyche rises
shape-shifted
to
covert flute
of
passion symphony
plays music
of
ecstatic self
entranced
as
convivial concerto
resonates
the last refrain
of
melodic memory
as
transcendent essence
of
euphoric epithet
And when the earth shall claim limbs,
then shall you truly dance.
~Kahlil Gibran
If I die today who would remember
The shape of my shadow passing beyond
The horizon, and is there anyone
Left to feel the absence of my presence?
Find me in an old photograph not thrown
Away but kept in the old scrapbook where
I also secreted away the pressed
Roses from a first love now dead and gone.
Today I leave an epithet, carving
It deep into this last lonely poem.
Make mine epithet ( R T I P ) I'll leave it
To my devoted readers to surmise which
Piece is resting the better.? Or deeper.?
Thats if i've made it through; though? Oh
My.' I'm twisting and turning already.)
You know.? I alway hit a dead
End in lifes scene .' Maybe if not in death.? Oh well
What can we do.? You can never get away
From being shafted it seems.? Sweet dreams.)
In the diaphanous domain
of the sapphire serene night,
the drizzle of moon’s silver sequins,
defining the existential epithet
of the dulcet melodic cadence,
adorned the pearl-laced waves
of the rolling sensuous sea,
spread seamlessly before me,
beyond the baroque shore,
where I sauntered only with me
in the corridor of the musical mind,
followed the tune of soulful symphony.
The rain-washed sparkling sky,
spreading the suffusing spectrum
of my kaleidoscopic opulent dreams,
weaved the tapestry of fantasy
with the lattice of chromatic imagery.
The surreal strings designed the splendor
of the charismatic rainbow motif,
arching over the halcyon horizon
that beckoned me to the concert of being,
let me feel fascinated the vibrato of life.
In the whirlpool of turbulent times,
swirling with the miasma of despair,
I turned the dented emotive impulse
into the lyrical crescendo of concerto.
On its sonorous serenading wings
I flew in the rhapsodic sky of sonata
to the harmonic realm of afflatus,
realized the essence of the nascent notion
that life is a song.
That’s when my life changed.
I am (from India) a deep and vibrant hue,
glow with the still sequins of the full moon
in the silken shroud of the night sky,
shedding a serene shade on the slate sea,
away from the silver-embroidered shore.
I am the patina of the flowing ink,
shaping the epithet of emotion of the muse
in the realm of the inner sensitive self
with the reflective color the poet feels.
In entwined hearts’ fathomless niche
the luster of nascent desire nucleates
layer on layer luminous,
into pristine pearl of love,
a treasure covert and untarnished,
the protected epithet of precious oneness.
Why does the world feel like an oxymoron?
They say world is simple yet a marathon!
They say don't ever give up come on!
Yet many of the people just forgone.
Why do my statements feel paradoxical?
I love to imagine yet words come real.
I believe in the phrase, think before you speak
Still, I find melodious words playing hide and seek.
Why do my experiences feel like a repetition,
Instead of consonants the shortcomings form alliteration.
Why does it feel true if it is just hallucination?
Thinking if it has already happened causes perplexion.
Why do I find myself as a transferred epithet?
Am I cheerful person, or it is just my dopamine?
Am I a lil insighted or it is just my mind?
What I wonder most is what the heck is 'I'??
Why does my life feel personified?
The passion here whispers and the time flies...
When alone, the silence knocks while the nostalgia mocks,
And then my mind and heart have a nice talk!
In the cobalt depth serene,
where silence whispers,
concealed aquatic elegance
transforms the gift of the sea
into spheres of opalescence
within clammed hidden heart,
a beauty shaped from fluid dream.
In entwined hearts’ fathomless niche
the luster of nascent desire nucleates
layer on layer luminous,
into pristine pearl of love,
a treasure covert and untarnished,
the protected epithet of precious oneness.
In diaphanous sapphire night,
the drizzle of argentine moon dust,
the existential epithet of
dulcet melodic descencion,
adorns the pearl-laced waves
of the rolling sensuous sea,
spread seamlessly before me,
beyond the baroque shore,
where I saunter with me
in the corridor of the musical mind,
and follow the tune of soulful symphony.
The rain-washed sparkling sky
spreads the seamless spectrum
of my opulent dreams,
weaved as the tapestry of fantasy
with the lattice of chromatic imagery,
the surreal strings design the splendor
of the charismatic rainbow motif,
arching over the halcyon horizon
that beckons me to the concert of being,
and feel fascinated the vibrato of life.
In the stalled turbid times,
defused in the miasma of despair,
I turn the dented emotive impulse
into lyrical crescendo of concerto.
On its sonorous whistling wings
I fly in the rhapsodic sky of sonata,
to the harmonic realm of afflatus,
and realize the nascent notion
that life is a song.
Life is the epithet of extant intermission
Life is the epithet of unique existence,
the construct of divine elements almighty designs
with the heavenly essence suffused
in the coalesced trinity of body, mind and soul.
Trying to get released from the egoistic clasp
of karmic destiny, leading to loss of the sense of self,
the perception of the pervading divine conscience
transcends the space-time limits for inward journey.
Beneath the convolute layers of the clouded mind,
at its inner depth soul perceives the awareness dawn,
creating the holy linkage with the absolute,
and comprehends the meaning of existence.
As the divine lotus serenely unfurls within
with the perception of His endowment of nirvana,
beautifies the sublimated life with heavenly adornment,
the supreme then assimilates the undying soul.
Devoid of the body and with the acquired intelligence,
the liberated soul transcends the mortal existence,
reaches the realm of eternity to realign
with divine consciousness for which we are here.
come now, princess
don't surrender your splendor
sign emptiness
with an epithet from razors
come now, naked
and vulnerably dreaming
pallid, wounded
while the piano is still playing
come now, duress
flaunt your surreal glamour
let her witness
the parody of metaphors
come now, tainted
the lies are worth believing
desecrated
the knives are there, waiting,
waiting
concede to the void
the puppet, the toyed
come now, your Highness
show them your riches
show them your rubies
and spill them in washes
banish sanity
there's madness in the keys
come now, princess
while the devil's still playing
come now, silence
the knives are there, waiting
waiting
He lived; he told other's that he lived
and all knew that they had died and now lived.
He spoke no language but conversed
in the wild tones of the waves and the wind.
Back then, there was no past nor future,
no gods, except the ever whispering heart of the moment.
Words were not words but sounds,
yet they left pictures
behind the eyes of those that truly listened.
His mother despaired of him,
for he planted no crops nor killed any living meat.
The poet gave no reply to the jabs and jibes of the many,
for he knew that yesterday and tomorrow
had no meaning, that they never would have,
so he walked untouched by sorrow or fret.
Eventually they named him 'Poet'
an epithet none of them understood.
He smiled
knowing that the sound of a word
was not its reality.
None had the language to express all this
but the poet passed on his knowledge
to his offspring, and they to their children,
yet even so
only a few knew the meaning of 'poet'
until they began to sing.
When at last we go silent
deep within this internet hive,
will the delayed surprise
travel more or less than a minute or an hour?
Did she or he die, or were they always
apocryphal names written on dead air?
If we ‘pass’ known only to a few
who knew our covert compulsion to speak
to the invisible, to write to strangers,
(a secret we may take to the grave)
shall we miss being so mislaid?
Will a minor fame, a little flame,
die with only an ethernet epithet
knowing it left a mark so digital
it could be deleted by a fingertip?
When we go silent will they suspect,
assume that we are just gone away,
or imagine they hear once more
a phantom voice on distant lips
some other day?
The first one was meant for her.
This one is meant for the world.
Just know her worth is still the core of the earth.
A storm to any story and thy bane that brought pain.
I am forever in love because I'm contented with her soul.
Thou shall not covet was the message written in a stone tablet.
It was meant for her, the girl in the white winter coat like a snow rabbit.
She was a flirt because they felt for her word.
A libra with toxic energy and free as a bird.
Don't be fooled by what you heard for it may sound absurd.
Expensive and exquisite like any fine wine that aged well.
It was like lust how they had fallen for her beauty.
Like a surgeon at work caring for her was their duty.
They all liked how she glitters on mother earth.
The poor, the rich the catholic all know her worth.
This is her sequel
The tale of one that was named after the heavens.
An oct-to-baby was born this day and, given the epithet heavenly purple.
For her wisdom and royalty would split the skies concurrently.
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