space lowers her eye lashes and blushes
perhaps embarrassed at her deception
we judge her not for bliss rapture gushes
as it should have been since the inception
but now flicker-free is our perception
space is a veil through which we can now peep
preparing us for a consciousness leap
“The distinction of quality and absence of quality does not exist in the least. How shall I worship Siva (the Absolute) who is devoid of quality and absence of quality, who is devoid of attachment and detachment, who is of the form of ether, omniform, beyond illusion, and all-pervading?”
The Self renews itself within itself,
dwelling in peace, resplendent in its light,
free from fear, no agenda on its shelf,
an ocean of awareness with clear sight.
The Self, God or Brahman, is all there is,
which we know not, since we are polarised,
yet when thoughts rest, gushes forth love’s bliss fizz,
whence the absolute truth is realised.
Piercing pores of space and transcending time,
we see manifestations as dream forms,
knowing which no mountains remain to climb
and we remain calm through life’s fiercest storms.
What’s there to be done; God and we are one ~
We are the light that illumines the sun
The hills,once green,now bare
yeild to poppy fields.
in rainy season,fierce torrents race down
towards the valley.
And in the valley,ancient rills-
dug by the kings,
most of them now chocked and buried
encroached out of view.
So water gushes wild
past the old foundations deep,
swallowing homes,roads,and,markets
without mercy in the monsoon's cruel roar.
Coming to my locality,
a rill that drain water stood for ages
encroached by the selfish ones
whose places remain dry
even in the rainy season.
And that rainy season brought
floods to our doors.
Our locality drowned,homes flooded once more.
Then the local club rose,
cleared the clogged course,
and waters receded- the levels fell low.
Relief washed over us.
But this very winter,
scourge struck anew;
encroachment returned
as intruders broke through.
The rill level does not drain;
the cycle repeats
the levels stay high again.
Once more we brace
for the rains yet to come.
It is a perennial threat
to our safety,weilded not by outsiders
but by the majority of people
from amongst us.
Daybreak's beauty at its peek
Gentle warm breeze whispered softly through the trees
a lure to the unknown, down a winding path
sweet bouquet, wildflowers and berries
tease at the nostrils of hunger
Silence was swallowed by the force of rushing water
roaring energetically... but meditatively soothing
hypnotizing beauty, rippled carved ridges
smoothed patterns of time from ancient days
below...black jagged slate cut through a swirl of rapids
a testament of change to the stones of old
gushes of cool water slapped the walls
spitting out foamy white bubbles
racing droplets joined to form one body of strength
dropping...to a funnel below
capturing... a piece of daring driftwood
dragging it down under, it escaped bobbing free
then taken to a secret hide-a-way
a natural wonder...gratitude, beauty, demanding respect
the power of creation
all within life's perceptions
Something very transcending about art --
my poison, Poetry! I think of the pen
or keyboard as a wand. I wave and the
images of my mind appear, mystically
in the framework of a composition --
they do, sort of, materialize out of nowhere;
often not intending to write. Then, possessed
a spirit substance gushes from depths of fertile
consciousness! A place I fain where demons
and angels are at constant Chess. I merely
a receptacle for their vehement rivalry. The grace
of God, my goblet shape – they pour in and
out of me...when my session done, a rinse...and
ready to go again.
When summertime kisses the rose
Her nestling trees blossom so fair
The dappled leaves twirl in repose
Bathed in mist's spray... beyond compare.
I crave her touch, her air ...how wild
Like a damsel amid lush grass,
Sultry when vibrant breezes glide
As limbs thrusts in passion's contrasts.
On gushes of night's flamed glimpses,
Embroidering her russet veils
In slow- fire movement... this goddess
Drops heat's thrill while off she trails.
And nightfall welcomes her romance
My breath lifts in a sultry way
When her torso rises... to dance
A whirl through her final ballet !
There’s a rabbit in the backyard. I see it from a window in my loft. The housemates don’t see it— they are sleeping late. Frost covers the windshield of my car. The year is passing. Saturday it hit eighty degrees. Warm air gushes through a vent. Last night I sang seven songs. Patrons in the bar wanted more, but I went home to read. The song, a ballad, lives in my head. The bartender
said she loved me after I set the microphone down, as if I sang it for her. I’ve known her for years, O how the seasons have passed.
in solitude
The street where I live ends at a ravine and at a grove of trees. In the seclusions I seek, words and melodies play in my head. The housecat sits at my side when I sit down and listen to my muse. I give form to the lines channeled through me. The lines long to be shared.
of the quiet morning
One night I showed the bartender a poem. She said it spoke to her soul. There was music and beauty all around late at night and the soft glow of lights. Outside, a distant star. The next day, a rabbit came out of the woods and stood in the yard. I had seen it before.
a lingering voice
*braided haibun form
Love flushes through the air, smiles and affection flowing the air
The Sakura-fubuki petals flowing through the skies and ground, like family to each other with laughter and ignorance
I wanted to be free just like the blossoms and dandelions or be sharp as roses being pampered and cared for, rather than as a decoration and having my petals flown around forcibly
Everyone's love and freedom gushes freely while I'm stuck with weddings being cherishe, being thrown away and stomped on without the pampered actions of a rose
Thrown and beaten, day by day waiting the days I'll be free
I'll stay as the flowers overlooked by others or rather picked in weddings to be ruined of my beauty
One day, I will be treated equally and be used as petals flowing freely, pampered like roses, and free from the hatred of my stem
Tip's of Women?
Lounge flushed
In delusion
I plays
Issues of wear
And weather's are vain
Tip's of women
Tied entrances
As low as old war
Gushes enter our floor
Isn't hours tasking?
Asnt looming often rooming
Rooms join dolls bury
Hands praying? So ways say
Papers run in the filled nights
Breaking ideas, counts, verses, checks
On tables and on the mind
City damsels, men aren't rhymes
Okay honey man
Driftwood apartments
Kevin issues jazz
You accident prone today
Chaska home
I have been behind San Francisco Paris
Says speaks for itself
Fearless abandon
Call on shores
Runned in
Hip at the door
Night the session
Strange moon wander in question
Illusive paints
Harken of tame
Tara I uncover
Repent dowry upon my branch
Eyes drafting midnight
Hourglass tarnish adventures
Lost rehearsal
Good Sense Of Humour Blunts The Sharp Blades Of Reality Poetry
Contest //Sponsored by: Natasha L. Scragg
Contest Judged: 8/30/2025 4:27:00 AM
( 2nd Place )
Written: August 5, 2025
When life threw me a curveball,
I stumbled—then chuckled mid-fall.
Lumped knees, not pride, I wore like bent,
because sneering is something I've seen.
In chemo rooms and vestibules,
I frenzied dry jokes on aseptic walls.
Doctors simpered, nurses would beam—
a punch-line where the fear had been.
When agony thumped hard and sleep grew thin,
I let the silly light writhe in.
A meme, a whirl , a silly song—
made aching days feel less so long.
No, humour incurable or patch,
But it's the ally, not made to part.
It doesn't silence, hurt or truth,
but let me smirk with my aching tooth.
So here's my laugh, though life gushes beneath,
it's how I rise, not how I lament!
First of all, I must say that I love the sea so much
in the past, I dared to repeat words from the poet Areias,
"Sea, my ground"
RETURN
If the sea deigns so much
to lose a little water
to wash my feet...
I reciprocate, filling it
back with my tears...!
I know the sea's salt,
so many shipwrecked ships...
I know the sea's distance
so many distant loves...
Water that gushes from me
only increases a sea between us
a lonely man without his love!
I know that the sea, my confidant friend,
will feel my death...
I, little innocent river!
beautiful red gushes through the exit
beautiful red drips down your forehead
beautiful red does not love you no more
but beautiful red hugs you for a little while longer
oh lady in red, oh lady in red
why wont you join us in the place we all desire?
dissociate your thoughts till it's no longer there
disintegrate your skin till it boils down all your sins
dream of what you'll see before you greet
disappointment fills you till you can't even breath
the tears that you weep will dry like concrete
hold it in not much longer
sadistic mind, hold me tight
catching one last memory before you drift back into immobilizing sleep
No earthly mortal
Nor any intity can
stop the flow.
Like a river, it gushes
Through the toughest
Barrier and crosses
Boarders with no regards.
Its causes are mixed and multiple.
But every nation lives in denial,
Blaming everyone but themselves.
Yet, every country will reap what it has
Sown as we all witness the trail of blood.
The world is bleeding.
She bleeds from self-inflicted wounds
As well as from forces seen and unseen.
And the best that we have to offer as a cure
Are bandaids which are gravely insufficient
to stop the hemorrhaging. The cause of the
Bleediing is a secret to none, But the solution
Is distasteful and unacceptable to all.
Water gushes
from the purifier
Cold mug
chills my hands
Coffee brews
in the pot
Coffee scent
fills the air
Deep in Black Forest
lives a good-natured ghost
whose eyes are like Nebula
a blurry blue
He Slithers along
steeply falling terrain
where ravine-like dark valley
drops deadly low
Every Lunar night
near Cascading waters
He camps to sing by the grave
of his lost girl
Serpentine river
dragging along cold air
gushes forth Myriad rifts
roars with the ghost
All through the white night
he wails, whispers with Lilt
at dawn he disappears with
Phosphorous smile
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