Where the white gnaws
a brook,
black Ash trees sink
waist high
in a smoking frost.
My coat is a rook's shadow.
I need to thaw a fumed silhouette,
warm my breath
from old body embers.
Ahead, robin red-flames
tattoo creaking water.
Between the tinder
and the cold flare,
a *** end of sun
ignites icicles
in a brief day-blush.
Categories:
fag end, poetry,
Form: Free verse
It is time to get fresh America,
to be plucked wriggling out of that shining sea,
a fresh baked humanity, moon-beam buckled.
Pass no more pay-day-loans
into the purses of the pawn-shopping poor,
give no witness nor evidence
of city shame, and house crud.
America, you can do this.
I am a being from across the world
I am from the ***-end of times,
my transformation, a promise of our mutual destiny,
rampant & manifest, our fate falters
let us be unbridled from
both the prideful and the lackluster,
un-arrested and unmolested
by the land grubbing snipes
or the false-fronted back slappers.
We are better than this blare of ourselves,
and if not
we can make a wooden wagon wheel
from all our legendary days,
It’s not too late, wipe your ass America,
wipe your dirty face. the dusty empire is crumbling
yet our first day is not yet done.
I am ready, ready to soar out of a hundred landfills,
a prismatic dodo embossed upon a tarnished coin
my downy head newly scrubbed of old-time blood.
Categories:
fag end, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Many times on my couch I lie
In a vacant mind or pensive drift
Wondering and pondering
Why the thought of my mom
Doesn’t go off my busy mind;
Ever after she is no more
Is it ‘cause of being a chip off the block,
Physical bond, blood relation,
Evolution - in womb,
Umbilical connect, love,
Care and grooming.
In many instances stepmother
Or a sibling, or a dad or others
Have filled the void caused by
dead mothers or adoption per se
Is is because of gratitude or
selfishness or emotion or admiration
Is it food, clothing, shelter, love
Security, protection and support
Nothing withstanding.
Very surprising that this love for mom
exists till the *** end of one’s own life.
Why and how?
For sure I don’t have an answer.
Mothers may know it best!
Categories:
fag end, appreciation, birth, caregiving, childhood,
Form: Free verse
She has a tumbledown deck, a creaky rocker.
Dandelion seeds carry memories
from one neglected garden patch to another.
She’s not that old, but her wine has mulled,
a hard sun has scoured her features.
There were children once. They play
now upon her mind
as crippled backwoods memories.
The ‘law’ took them, and the grinding years
brewed more bitter coffee, while on the decking
coffee cans were filled with cigarette butts.
‘No-good lovers’ still occasionally
practiced their shoddy dance steps,
but even the one night stands have dwindled
to hasty matinee tumbles.
Few life choices were well made or unpaid for,
yet in the ***-end of each day
she wanders upon her dandelion patch,
and prays to the girl she once was,
then she retires to a tousled bed
to sleep with the rootless shadows
that float as light as air
through her ramshackle nights.
Categories:
fag end, poetry,
Form: Free verse
It is time to get fresh America,
to be plucked wriggling out of the shining sea,
a fresh baked humanity, moon-beam buckled,
passing yet more pay-day-loans
into the purses of the pawn-shopping poor,
and giving no witness nor evidence
of city shame, and house crud.
America, you can do this.
I am a being from across the world
I am from the ***-end of times,
my transformation, a promise of our mutual destiny,
rampant & manifest,
unbridled from all luckless land grabs.
It’s not too late, wipe your ass America,
wipe your dirty face.
I am ready, ready to soar out of a hundred landfills,
a prismatic dodo embossed upon a tarnished coin
my downy head newly scrubbed of old-time blood.
Categories:
fag end, poetry,
Form: Free verse
The ***-end of February,
St David’s Day approaches fast.
It’s wet and windy yet again,
Still more dark days with sleet and rain.
But gold and purple crocuses
And multi-coloured primroses
Awaken and anticipate
Warming rays of Springtime sun –
Nature’s cycle has begun.
Then golden daffodils will shine
And bluebells carpet woodland walks.
Birds sing again high in the trees,
Rejoicing in the vernal breeze.
Dark skeletal trees turn to green;
Whenever was such beauty seen ?
Categories:
fag end, february, nature, spring, daffodils,
Form: Free verse
Listening to a gleaming
word whole life
and finding its meaning at
the *** end.
And you are in thrall
to a sinful pleasure.
The yearnings
of a small Pteris,
which drinks arsenic daily
to rescue a withering smile.
A poem sings to me
under a lantern, when a
storm was raging to roil
the blue birds of imploring peaks.
It looks into your eyes
to find the answer
of complete shutdown
of cotton feel.
Satish Verma
Categories:
fag end, art,
Form: ABC
Deep in to the woods by spring
my quest by daybreak for croaking,
frog croaking, nature enthusiast‘s song,
hit upon by the *** end, a puddle,
frogs, a few in high spirits hopping,
something took the winds out of my sails!
whopping snake, old inactive by water,
these frogs take the snake a worm,
took me back to an old proverb:
when the snakes get old,
the frogs get him by the balls!
laughing I too tried some croaking!
great nap my song all around!
Categories:
fag end, education, humorous,
Form: Free verse
I saw a girl at the *** end of March,
And how i wished she could be mine,
Then i realized it was just a dream,
And went back to sleep,
Hoping the supernatural would happen.
Then i woke up in the middle of February
& realized it was true,It had happened!
She was mine..
God had given me a gift, which i asked for
For the 1st time,
Heart of Gold, Touch of silk, which made me mad
Held her skin tight, like ma prize,
Hope to keep her that way, till the end of time.
We have come a long way,
Started in March,
continued through February & Beyond.
Let dimensions convolve and end at infinity,
All i wanna say is, ill keep her with me,
Ill keep her happy & keep her satisfied..
just as the way i got her, if not better.
We have come a long way,
Started in March,
continued through February & Beyond.
Categories:
fag end, anniversary, life, lovefebruary, me,
Form: Prose Poetry