"I'm the Carnival's
Cartomancer,
Zoltar the mystic,
foreseeing wise."
"Who immobile waits...
inside this
narrow case--
top four-sided glass
and bottom
Pine-crafted box.
"It's wishing coin's
'ka-ching',
that magically
revives me."
"As true believers
witness--once
my turbaned gaze
mentally reads
what's seeping out
their inquiring eyes."
"Fact is--these
animated hands,
randomly select
from the magnetic deck--
one, out of many, fortune
riddled cards--inked of
buoyant, superb vibes."
"Though blissful, playful,
mind you--all of 'em--
merciful white lies."
"Behold, each
future's scripted
and then sold;"
"To luck--searching,
wishing souls--
on fortune--tellin',
Robot--sellin' cards."
"Whose promised prizes
are a Carney vendor's
paradise."
Being so much alone
While a pretty figure appears
Thought you had find a crown
Hunt to cement partial fears
Between together
Or gone forever
And to never give a thought to be as we are
Choose to be in love
Fears to cease the shame of rejection
Better being told and turn a mere laugh
Than get burnt a cookie via affection
Useless is a vow
To which you do not bow
And meet up no matter how
Reality of the heaven
The confusion of the earth
Tugs the dream to share in even
Renting the reason to kiss noble breath
Jug the love
Move hastily in wave
And tie no reason counts gold to enslave
Dictation of being
Designation of mind's views
Do not guarantee foreseeing
Yet free off visiting the blues
When love is true
All your partners' faults enough a clue
For both to become anew
Humans, long a self-seeking breed,
Oft concoct love foreseeing need.
With tender grass lush green
Does a butcher fatten
His sheep in his own selfish greed.
___________________
Translation |37.01.2025|
Poet’s note: Sanskrit has thousands of verses of wisdom called Subhashhitam. This verse says that man by nature is a self-seeking breed. Keeping in mind a selfish motive, a butcher concocts false love and fattens his sheep with tender grass. But it is only to fetch better price in the market, not for any altruistic love. The transliteration of the Sanskrit verse follows (sandhi duly separated):
Kaarya-apekshee janah praayah,
preetim aavishkaroti alam |
Lobha-arthee shaundikah shashpaih,
mesham pushnaati peshalaih ||204||
Alone in fields of flowers
I can feel the sorrow of sunset
Yet still I stand with a blissful smile
Foreseeing tomorrow's radiant sunrise
And I feel the kiss of the earth
As I stroll with bare feet
For nature's bounty is the greatest cure
To those burdened with a forsaken life
I can feel the shadows pressing down
When I'm trying to bask in the sunlight
But I always hold my head high
If only to feel whole again
If only
To be me again
In the tapestry of time, where friendships bloom,
Mes amis, like petals, dispelling life's gloom.
Brothers, firm anchors in the sea of existence,
Une soeur agaçante, a tempest, a relentless insistence.
Parents, the roots, firmly grounding my being,
Leaves of wisdom, in the breeze, foreseeing.
Enemies, shadows that dance in the moonlit night,
Igniting the fire, propelling toward the light.
Obstacles, sculptors shaping destiny's mold,
Dans leur défi, a story to be told.
Life, un cadeau sacré, a gift from above,
Not a right to claim, but a testament of love.
In the symphony of struggle, where melodies intertwine,
Chutes et ascensions, a rhythm so divine.
Gratitude, a dance, through joy and despair,
Dans chaque souffle, God's presence in the air.
Number one on the list, au sommet, divine,
Grateful to Dieu, the source of the grand design.
In the dichotomy of good and bad, the ebb and the flow,
All glory to Lui alone, in the afterglow.
Life imparts love teaching
Learning who to love comes from foreseeing
Situations tell you who truly loves you.
Written: May 13, 2023
In my house as if I’m an alien
Ladies chamber form its den
The mirror of the dressers table
Stays busy as a beautician cable
Dawn to dusk as if it’s a parlor
Except me, it’s in house wife’s care
O Mirror who you are factually
Where you are from genetically
I know you are not Aphrodite
But you can show the reality
Of true reflection you have the power
By which we can cover the outside layer
I know myself by the true knowledge and prudent wisdom
O Mirror you can teach how to represent the self-rhythm
Your acceptance to all as a pioneer of embodiment guide
As like the true wise you can reveal the un-foreseeing side
With your kind escort, we can make up our whimsical sights
O Mirror, live long to reflect the insightful clear
No disguise, for my lady form me in your nature
February 26, 2023
Write an Ode Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Jeff Kyser
The bells of Christmas loudly ring
declaring Christ, the Savior’s birth
with angels’ choir, they join to sing
announcing God’s descent to earth.
The bells of Christmas gladly ring
proclaiming peace has come to earth
through Christ who came goodwill to bring
and dying offer man new birth.
The bells of Christmas sadly ring
foreseeing that the chosen race
would reject Christ their Lord and king
spurning his love and saving grace.
Hear the bells of Christmas ringing
to us hope and healing bringing.
Christ from heaven condescending
saving grace to us extending.
Soon the bells of heaven will ring
when Christ from earth his children bring
then her gates wide open will fling
to welcome saints, while angels sing.
He could paint the air and draw the winds.
Of course that brief eulogy
was only spoken after his demise;
while alive he was often considered a clod and a bore.
Foreseeing no such post-mortem fame
he kept writing on water
knowing that there was an archive of his works
in an after-life waiting to be discovered
by his wandering soul.
In the meantime, ducks quacked, geese honked
and the little birds in his still beating heart
twittered on.
Will there be non-existence
for you and me?
It savages the mind to have no being
to dreamless sleep alone foreseeing.
Shouldn't something of us survive
in rock or rain or moonlit tide?
Were we made to be passed through
setting aside all we knew?
Isn't there a place in universes endless
to which an act of mercy can send us?
Is our destiny really dust?
"No," answers a voice I fervently trust.
Lost in the sorrow of heartache,
Quietness becomes a best friend.
Like sun heavenward at daybreak,
Death rises and burns in the end.
Longing for carefree days,
A splendid book in hand,
Soaking sultry sun rays,
Toes hidden deep in the sand.
Floating, drifting just barely,
Feeling herself slipping under,
Hearing him call her, “Gerry,”
Keeps her from going asunder.
Savoring the familiar aroma,
Of morning’s first cup of coffee,
Foreseeing today’s dilemma,
Patience and fortitude her plea.
Recalling his passionate kisses,
And lustful romantic evenings,
Hunger of nighttime blisses,
Enveloped in loving feelings.
His aching voice brings her back,
Pain is a hard pill to swallow,
Exhaustion becomes a true setback,
High days have morphed into low.
Peacefully he takes his last breath,
Like sun heavenward at daybreak.
Eternal rest comes at death,
Lost in the sorrow of heartache.
Her poems light up “positive thoughts” with “rays of hope”
Emphasizing “now is the time” for “something to give”
Instinctively foreseeing “the light tomorrow will bring”
Desiring “all these years” to “feel the simple things”
In inspiring simple words she has “so much to say”.
She senses the “winds of change” in “a sky filled with hope”
Assuring “a new beginning” of the “colored dreams”
Nestled in the “rush of rapture” that “no storm can destroy”
Desires to travel “where the mind goes”, “finding serenity”
Sensitivity muses in “sweet silence” as “the music keeps on playing”.
(Dedicated to Heidi Sands)
Poem titles are in quotation
May 24, 2021
Contest : Title Wave
Sponsor : Richard Lamoureux
How do you turn off the darkness?
How do you set it aside?
Where do you find that switch?
That only you can provide.
And as your light shines on me
As it touches my being
I begin to surmise
That it's a change I’m foreseeing.
dead of night draws near
and he suffers
inside the silence
the stillness
of the land
loam looming
encrypting upon his hand
bare
as his glance
a mirror mulling of a past
eyed
foreseeing a fertile future
as she comes
he pauses
in the mist of maturation
of the trees
his forest blend
bent to the cue of man
braved
he braves the hidden blue
and breathes
her scent
How do you write so fast he asked her
Meaning why do you think you’re smart?
Foreseeing a mini-disaster
She asked him about his own perceived art
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