I already understand that children
grow inside two blinks,
as quickly as the novel Mayfly
comes to the surface to die.
I'm pining for those first days again,
of edentate smiles, milestones
to fund future independence.
Pineapple-sized hearts I cradled;
lulled, exchanged dank nappies for dry;
ferried on uncrossed seas,
your armada.
Smoothed rough waters as if by divine speech
because mothers can. I was thinking that I could always be your oxygen.
I let you walk through me, under, right over.
The rocking horse
brought for my bromelain angels
winged you away -
this blasted Pegasus ...
I miss you now.
How you rode away,
ephemera of innocence!
So, what then?
Me, fumbling wild in the backspace you left.
Your flabbergasting key smash to freedom
broke our finespun home, you left
me to talk to your father, Child,
to renegotiate
the bonds;
reconstruct ancient code,
deleted excess text -
obfuscating precision and knowing -
the tribal tongue of lovers
unlearned, forgotten;
escaped alongside discarded baby bath suds,
strewn puddles of rubber duckies,
tired breasts suckled
by fresh management.
Categories:
flabbergasting, absence, children, leaving, loss,
Form: Free verse
Glasses of different shapes
Showing out various shapes
Glasses of distinct hues
Blowing out vague and clear-cut views
Mirrors of you in glasses
Like crystals molded in mashes
Furor, dolors, splendor in glasses
Like petals defoliating in sashes
Mirrors of you on hand
Reflections of you unveiled
With all mirrors of the world at hand
Imperfections of you unsealed
Tales of the pasts, stories unmasked
Events of time lapsed, memories basked
Mirrors of you from the past
Blowin' winds in cast
Mirrors of you everlasting
Tokens of you not flabbergasting
Mirrors of you on the rocks
Dusts of you sprinkled in blocks
You are what you are in mirrors
Fictional or not in errors
Mirrors of life are in you
Mirrors of you are all but one in you
Categories:
flabbergasting, self, voice,
Form: Rhyme
I should like to think that some spark of a watcher
slips away at night to observe our crazy dreams.
Some part of the self attached only to the whirring brain
by umbilical coils of recognition
of what we are when the brain rambles
and stutters along all by itself.
I should like to be outside
watching that drunken twirling sailor
totter and flop through
its flabbergasting counter-realities,
un-meshed moving parts that demand to be
decoded into loosely knit prophesy
or the dyslexic fortune-telling
of all kinds of flash-fiction.
Perhaps better though to leave the brain alone
allow it space to exhaust its madcap maladies,
while the stars call us out to be
what a brain can never be or see.
To be then, an awareness of that greater part of self
watching the brains mechanical spinning-top
dream itself into realms of evermore loopy unlikeliness,
while we explore a self-lit luminous universe
beyond the ken of the brain-locked sleep
of mice and men.
Categories:
flabbergasting, poetry,
Form: Free verse
The human eye is an awesome thing
to be able to see things all in colour
even from the earliest age of sight
large and small seeing nothing duller
Storms come into your life
tossing you around to and throw
but the eternal one has a purpose
you can't see it thinking it's a blow
Remind yourself often of His promises
for His faithfulness is everlasting
trust in Him knowing His grace
it's amazing leaving you flabbergasting
God's eye never shuts or indeed blinks
His watchfulness is always upon you
this is our God who doesn't sleep
the Lord's loving mercy is ever new
Even when the storm strikes
His hand holds you in its grip
knowing divine peace to ever abide
sailing onwards on heavens ship
Categories:
flabbergasting, god, light, storm,
Form: Rhyme
Indubitably there is one emotion
By the time I feel its first nettle
I am at the point of explosion
It is already too late to settle
I become immediately apoplectic
Before the green-eyed monster
Is validated as authentic
Thus exaggerating it asunder
I find this is so flabbergasting
My face turns red and I glower
Jealousy for me is most suggesting
That my sanity has been devoured
May 5, 2018
Categories:
flabbergasting, angst, emotions, jealousy, surreal,
Form: Rhyme
~~~ Naked Truth ~~~
We often feel
The society is filled with
Love, affection, adoration and romance.
But, the flabbergasting naked truth is something
different.
It is not the apparent.
The world is full of turmoils,
Even a son parents spoil.
Conceit and complacency are everywhere.
Faith and trust are nowhere.
People treat their child as a 'wishing well',
In spite of intimate blood relations,
They are not wishing well!
Everybody is masked,
Full of false vanity and hypocrisy,
The world is the devil's place
Full of brutality,
At stake is the friendship,
In danger is the love,
In danger is the humanity!!
#CopyrightsArijit
All rights reserved
Categories:
flabbergasting, abuse, betrayal, conflict, depression,
Form: Prose Poetry
Villanelle: What's flabbergasting is the limitlessnesses
What's flabbergasting is the limitlessnesses
Time Space Suffering the meanness of everything
The only exception: never deathlessnesses
Take KARMA example of prowess excesses
Such as the Mean Violent doing their own thing
What's flabbergasting is the limitlessnesses
You're not supposed to know past lives' excesses
Though you do good continue to take a beating
The only exception: never deathlessnesses
Thinkers on the subject of lobsidednesses
Simply say: ponder! as if waiting for lightning
What's flabbergasting is the limitlessnesses
What if Life comes to an end locked in fastnesses
Your karmic interests lost in false accounting
The only exception: never deathlessnesses
Who d'you damn for this in other universes’s
What if you took chances doing your own thing-fling
What's flabbergasting is the limitlessnesses
The only exception: never deathlessnesses
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Categories:
flabbergasting, birth, death, fate, heaven,
Form: Villanelle
I remain awake at night
And I walk the whole day
In the field of ideas
I pick them in abundance
Write them like reaping crop
Yet nothing comes up as I desire
On the page I rub
The marks of scratch are everywhere
Step of thoughts fall pattering like the leaves
Of an old oak tree of the autumn
The ground is full and covered fully
With words yellow
And turning the colour white into black
Like a failed crop of winter
The pods I get but inside I find no grain
I engage to search in the heap
I come up with a design
And I draw something with intense attention
Again the picture appears hazy
In no way I am getting the poem
For so long I want to bring up
The poem I want is like a pony
On her back I wish to ride
And like an explorer travel the whole world
Peaks and bottoms
Pits and gorges where
Nature has kept her treasure of satisfaction
In a box wonder
Covered with flabbergasting astonishment
Whole night I remain awake
Whole day I keep walking for a single poem
By which I can ride the coming world like a wise man.
Categories:
flabbergasting, poems,
Form: Free verse
The cries devastating our lives.
I wanted to hold onto you,
Forever always two.
As though nothing to ever lose,
I never thought I'd have to choose.
My heart upon your hands,
Never slipping through the strands.
The love was everlasting,
Always described as flabbergasting.
You were once my muse,
Till fate covered the fuse.
I sit and wait,
Wondering how long I had to stare straight.
My love for you still rises,
Across the lifeless horizon.
My bones still held together,
Till I loose that hope of forever.
The bonds once clever,
Our love once like a feather,
It could never be replaced.
No matter the amounts of lives is traced.
Categories:
flabbergasting, caregiving, faith, hope, loss,
Form: Rhyme
My love devoted to you,
For all is true.
I look past the surface,
Seeing all your bliss.
Alls it took,
Was just one look.
The passion devoted,
The love premoted.
Making my heart swell,
Making my life dwell.
Everlasting,
Flabbergasting.
Cautious,
Nautious,
Charming; Alarming.
Our list extends,
To the deeper ends.
For none of it blends,
But who said love was to be normal?
Or may even formal?
Our love is one,
Formed by two,
Making everything true.
Me and you.
Categories:
flabbergasting, caregiving, dedication, girlfriend-boyfriend, happiness,
Form: Rhyme
Had I not witnessed with my eyes
The massive throng of empty dreams,
I would have fallen for the guise
That all is better than it seems.
The awful truth that lies within,
Its harsh intents I shan’t forgive.
How cruel, alas, deceit has been;
To make me think that all dreams live.
And on that fateful night I met
The shepherd’s twin on timber sitting.
He was collecting in his net
Some empty thoughts, and meekly knitting.
“Woolgatherer, woolgatherer.”
I said with eager dreamer’s tongue.
He had the look of wanderers,
That many deaths have dwelt among.
“How many dreamers have there been
Who’s dreams on solid grounds were crushed?”
“To tell the truth, I can’t begin.”
He spun his words at me, quite rushed.
“The broken dreams…” I said to him,
“What will happen to the pieces?
Will they run, or fly, or swim,
Or simply die? (Their life ceases)”
What he said I won’t forget,
His flabbergasting scheme:
“I’ll pluck the fragments with my net
And build a better dream.”
Categories:
flabbergasting, allegory, imagination, introspection, life,
Form: Rhyme