On the arid marsh
No blue heron comes
No moon reflects itself
No sun can sip to quench
The shattered piece of the soul
Survives alone in the dust
Dust of the filtered memories
When the heart of the desolation
wrapped the garden of the sky
where the love left behind
the flourishing past
Let come
the love
to the desolate heart
to clean the dust of loneliness
Let come
the love
to the desolate heart
to fill with happiness
of the brimful nature
Let come
the love
to the desolate heart
to draw the peaceful soul
on the celestial canvas
Let come
the love
to the desolate heart
to write the epoch-making poetry
on the fertile veins
Let come
the love
to the desolate heart
to weave the embroidered wisdom
where time begets the love
(Inspired by “Arid Land of a Desolate Heart poem by Poet Bernadete van der Wielen)
©Mahtab Bangalee
12th January, 20215
Elopement through the dry heart
One nightfall
Or the flower
I seize
In the pungent processions
Of the winter dew
The lamppost cries for
The enlightenment
In the field of epoch-making poetry
The whispers shout
For a loving verse
With the dawn awakening
The eyes loitering for
A peaceful sleeping
Freedom becomes
Yellow envelope of
Never reaching
©Mahtab Bangalee
9th January, 2025
White horses unsure of flight
they unfurl before dawn
they had their chance
alone in colours
The man of gentle voice
was only asking for a choice
They sang of emptiness
epoch making expanses
of self determinism
their forte
A pulchritudinous angel with awesome grace
An epoch-making beauty quotient I guess
Arabesque eye lines compete with horizon
A celestial Goddess- an enchanting paragon
Ear-tops, twain hue and hair cascadic
Bestow me powers to verse prolific
May I know thy secret supreme
Of leadership and comeliness extreme
Can I ever reach thy standards
I marvel at the parameters
Round eyes resemble the heavenly feel
Cheek bones emphasize the Indian zeal
What a superfect diva on the earth..!
Has just inspired my awe to mirth..!!
Human spaceflight is an epoch making thing
And space tourism – a new normal amazing
Effect of spaceflight on the human body
Has been a supreme subject for everybody
Space habitat is my curiosity extreme
As my cosmonauts study umpteen
Bioastronautics and space pharmacy
Will soon be a regular supremacy
Space architecture being latest command
Let’s fulfil the universal demand..!
Stone did not give up on us,
we just made stone socially conscious.
Many hotels and banks are still stone clad,
the rich still use stone,
but most of us
are in the throw-away aisles of the future.
This is not a class warfare poem, that war is over –
we lost.
Soon the poor will have no stone history,
our less than epoch making lives
will not outlast the crumbling era’s.
Our trinkets and practical artifacts
will wash away in tsunamis of time.
We will leave no blue-collar archeology
that can be excavated, and raised above the
swallowing earth once more.
Plastic and aluminum,
composite drywalls, and pine struts, go
to the landfill at best.
In the end, rot, termites
and fire are our bequeathing.
In some distant past
I am looking through a camera
taking pictures of a far tomorrow.
“Look”, I hear someone say,
“there’s a nobody,
he who has no stone for his grave
or fame.”
I agree,
even this celluloid photo of me
in my prime,
strutting along a Jersey boardwalk,
a beautiful woman on my arm;
this image will also burst into flames;
no doubt within,
some impressive, abiding fireplace -
one built of stone.
Sprouted from the depth and leapt for the height
Tremendous epoch-making in sight
Just like a raw gem that transforms on motion
Our imaginations are like the ocean
Her noble mind in noble thoughts we see
Now, see hordes of hospitality over the fee
Sons and daughters home-like honied hive
Sweet sounds of joy as success rain remains
Compiling great students with learning domains
Here is the name; read as you may
Our chronicles of great history pave the way
Organized and industrious like ants in a row
Learners ring out laughter as bells echo
See them as they seize and pluck the day
THE CROSS OVER
-------------------Cross over------------------
------------------The heavenly------------------
-------------------Language !-------------------
------------------ The--cross-------------------
------------------Them--that------------------
Taketh it not, followeth not, but preteneth to be
The Cyrenian who bears his cross crucifying him
Cross and Cross crossing over, his joy endureth
------------------The cross in------------------
------------------His Blood on
------------------The crossing------------------
------------------His--love on------------------
------------------The Crossing------------------
------------------ Over---night-------------------
------------------An Holy night------------------
------------------Epoch making-----------------
------------------His Cry in the------------------
------------------ Cross--cures-------------------
------------------My---wounds-------------------
(By Opurum Precious Nigeria)
Copyright © odiboy 2016
Moods…
Machiavellian moods are moods of plan.
They are also mood tp satisfied their ego some that always.
Ad hominem per personnel or nepotisms are self to claim or self hears to hands pledges.
Lover in micro ways are observatory for epochs essays.
Epoch making are wrong or right.
Some of us have moods.
Hatred mind are very sharp and acute.