plans incised on plain paper
careful calligraphy of a plane
sailing high above the clouds
shrouded in anticipation
veiled in smudges and tears
slowly running out of ink
resolute fears fuel the fire
earthquakes resurface nebulous horizons
and I have not the foggiest idea
uncertainty shapes a landscape
full of thunder and lightening
a sinkhole for rainbows
handing over completely
to what to whom to when
a seeming distraction
at the foot of the rainbow
gold mingles with cold
and heaven freezes over
_*_When we met*__
When we met
God's clock was set
You were cool,
I was snool.
You cared
I shared
Your fortitude,
Changed my attitude.
You explored
I analysed
From Your prowess,
I learnt firmness.
From academics to administration,
You are known for your compassion.
In depth and in detail,
Words will never derail.
Innovation and incubation,
Strong is your communication.
Resources were petty
Your act showed liberty.
Fighting against all odds
Fetched you the rewards.
You created a benchmark
Sustainable goals set as hallmark.
Every beginning has its end
Handing over is a trend.
You have paved a path,
Lightened by alnath.
God's clock will keep ticking
We will keep on meeting.....
To be freed from one’s mind,
Walk the woods, behind mankind.
Yet another day bleeds into night,
If not for the morn, who’d see the light?
With no reprieve, I cannot escape,
As I stay hidden under death’s cape.
Doth the laws we abide keep us in line?
Those who speaketh and make this design.
Should our faith in them never wane?
Shall we overlook this world in pain?
As we perish in the way they intend,
Handing over our gems for them to spend.
In this particular scenario or case
The actual amount of Zeroes
You place or add on the end
Does not represent it's actual
Real value or true worth
Because the difference being is this
Although I may have only been able
To contribute $ 1 Dollar
It's a $ 1 Dollar I can barely afford
And may equate and come at the cost
Of me stealing a meal out my child's mouth
Far more than I can afford to give
Whereas your large contribution
Of $ 10 k plus Dollar's
To you isn't even pocket change
Whereas you on the other hand
Tomorrow will be front page news
Having your picture taken
Handing over that Cheque
I read over someone else's shoulder
Because I can't afford to buy the newspaper
Unless I can no longer afford
Actual Toilet paper itself
Respected mad
Title : Retiring officer
You are my principal
With principles
You are my teacher
Who never let me deter
You were my peer
Who wanted me to cheer.
I appreciate your honesty
Worthy is your amity.
The aura you carry
Made me very crazy
People like you are rare
As you retire i cannot bare.
Every begin has an end.
Handing over is the trend.
Let us part to meet
Memories will remain sweet.
With love
From
Ketaki
Patankar
we thought the thought about transcending thought
which required choosing shift from head to heart
handing over baton of awareness
to higher mind by adding love to cart
abiding thus in thought rested stillness
ego unfed too changed its direction
unified presence entwined with oneness
paving way for our soul’s resurrection
mind inquires
but needs to stop
handing over the baton
to intelligence of our heart
that the light of true Self
illuminates our path
A drop of blood trickled from a vein
Cut up for being vane
Gazing at the reflection in the pane
Ignoring the emerging pain
Shoes lined up in pretty rows
On the bed a single rose
The blood oozes fast and fills a pail
The face slowly starts to pale
Heavy does the depression weigh
No longer going the right way
The killer collects his earn
After handing over a pretty urn
My knowledge of bankers is limited and esoteric.
They have a virtuosity of keeping a poker face no matter what.
Even during a robbery, they are to act as nonchalant charlatans.
Handing over vast amounts of loot, stereotypically including dye lot.
I did not realize how banks operate when I arrived as a newbie.
My inexperience and ineffectiveness was measureable.
I had not planned to land a bank job at all; I wanted to be a ballerina.
But having never danced or even worn a tutu, what are the odds?
I am on auditory alert this morning at my teller’s cage.
The guy behind the old lady I am serving has a stony glare.
I ask her about her son’s new plane’s rollout, to stretch time.
Justifying nothing, she explains about his psychological problems.
Prevention is better than waiting for a shot in the knee right?
The second the stony-faced soldier comes closer I pepper spray him.
In the eyes; he yelps like a surprised puppy!
The bank manager comes running over. And my job is over.
No worries. I have hated all four hours of this job any way.
Perhaps
Maybe
It just might be
Time to consider
The possibility
Of handing over
The planet
To the animals
I mean realistically
They could no worse than we have done
At least we know they would live in harmony with nature
Instead of trying to force it to their will
They wouldn’t be arrogant
Or petty, bitter or greedy
Or disloyal or betray each other
Or kill for no reason or torture each other
Or go to war
Or rape each other
Or lie to each other
Do I need to keep going?
Really there’s no argument here
The decision is quite clear
We need to simply
Step aside my dear
There’s nothing to fear
Our ugliness is reflected in the worlds mirror
We are not what we appear
Just fallen from grace
At an accelerated pace
Our arrogance is a slap
In our creator’s face
More ashamed I could not be
Of how we act to the one
Who gave life to me
It’s simply the reality
Of our frivolity
Eric (and sometimes not)
Handing over the reins is, of course,
Very rarely involving a horse.
It’s about the tradition
Of easing transition
Of power, with no show of force.
The expression is mostly applied
When a leader is stepping aside
And helps he who comes next
Not feel lacking or vexed
With all negative feelings denied.
Yet today, those same reins are held tight,
While the whole world is watching this plight.
It’s an ugly impasse
Lacking candor and class
Led by one who is driven by spite.
The blazing warlord in rage
Stares upon the face of the earth
The uneasy earth in haste
Emits glazy smokes trapped underground
To take some fresh air
Cool breeze blows gently by
Tired trees wave for joy
Rustling in praise and delight
The idle cloud is busy traversing the sky
Wrapping the whole earth in a moment
Into a horrible darkness
Gentle breeze changes over to rainstorm
The flood overwhelm the gutters
Flashing lightning and rumbling
The storm soon shed some strength
Handing over to a gentle misty breeze
The cloud is cleared
I see some paintings of God
In the sky of a scanty cloud
That shows afterwards
Awaking, pre-energised and in tranquil calm, vibrant inner stillness gently handing over the baton of awareness to externalised senses, transition eternity of is-ness in being-ness, we abide therein.
Void of no-thingness
Throb of dynamic stillness
Purring blissfulness
17-August-2020
Goldfish stumble upon a princess
Ruby of the sea? Charlie guesses.
They swim to get old Tom
Who is floating close to a gaggle of mermaids.
Come quickly! Charlie says to their wisest resident.
He is an alarmist, so Tom moves not a whit
Besides, these mermaids are tasty and beautiful.
Charlie looks to see what is captivating Tom
Come take your turn Tom says, handing over binoculars.
Those sirens are poison! Charlie says saucily.
One turns and winks at him, proving his point.
If they are gone when I get back it will be tragic for you Tom warns.
But never the less they head to whatever wanderlust
Charlie and his cousins have in mind today.
What is the humanoid leaning on? Charlie asks.
Clocks I think, Tom says. I think they call them that.
What do they do? They make time whisk away
Before you know what has happened.
Is it Ruby of the sea? Charlie asks, remembering the premonition.
Mystify me once, shame on you, thinks Tom.
Mystify me twice, shame on me.
Unsure, Tom says. But she could be.
It is a she? Charlie asks. He has not heard this word before.
Or it is a clock, Tom says. Maybe it is the clock.
Maybe the other things are the she.
Something cold once touched my face,
a wind that blew from some strange place.
It softly whispered in my ear,
come follow me and have no fear.
The path we took I could not see,
each step was steeped in mystery.
Far from familiar things was led,
the ties that bind now but a thread.
A wicked thought soon came to mind,
t'was planted there for me to find.
Just how close could I come to death,
before handing over my final breath?
From time to time I take that walk,
with the whispering wind I sit and talk.
As the years pass, the question still remains.
If I glimpse through Death's dark door,
my life will I retain?
5/7/19
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