Pity the poor syllable in the phrase that pops these days
It's stretched and bent until it's rent in oh so many ways
It's hard to see the melody in the score that's tortured so
It's an attack that hails from way back in days of yesteryear
If opera is what led to this, I guess that's why we're here
But Chuck was full of word play in his day and yet instructed
Improvisation shouldn't lead to the point where melody's obstructed
Vocal coaches in the ballpark should leave us thus reminded
Warm-ups are for stretching… lest technique's lost to the wind-up
Morning entered quietly, as pale as silver rain, and with it came a gentle voice to soften fear and pain.
The hours were slow with aching, the road seemed hard to see, yet kindness, like a summer bird, alighted close to me.
No crown adorned her patient brow, No trumpet marked her way; She carried hope in simple hands— Shyni, my nurse today.
Sometimes the smallest mercies outshine the brightest sun:
A smile, a word, a careful touch can heal what others can't.
When evening folds the weary sky and shadows drift away, I'll keep one quiet star alive— Shyni my nurse today.
If countless waves roar in ocean of life,
Each therein born that lives, sinks unto it,
Whose bond with the rest but for flash is rife
Whilst that with ocean for lifelong is lit--
A truth, so clear and still so hard to see,
And so am I the part of Supreme Soul…
Two birds of feather dwelling on a tree,
So close and still apart-- a part and whole,
One pecking at sweet and sour karmic fruits,
A pendulum as if swinging for good,
From joy to grief were I to know no roots
With my twain O to brood in solitude
Until one day this delusion hast gone
And with it dawns from dark my life’s new dawn.
________________________________
Musings | 02.07.2026 | birds, ocean, spiritual, tree, waves, Sonnet
Note: This sonnet is in continuation from the preceding one: Him, truly mine if I know not. It draws from two verses from Mundak Upanishad: 3.1.1 and 3.1.2. Same verses are also found in Shveta-ashva-tara Upanishad: 4.6 and 4.7.
There are promises about forevermore
That sadly get pushed aside.
Their reality is beyond our comprehension
So they often get denied.
Is it because human logic
Says a beginning must have an end?
A conclusion somehow comforts us.
A metaphoric friend.
We have only known life
As we see it now.
So the idea of no more troubles
Seems impossible somehow.
The promises of forevermore
Include no more hunger and thirst.
A humane and loving society
Where we all put others first.
They tell of peace and happiness
No more wars again on earth.
Every living form is treated
With the respect and dignity it's worth.
"He will swallow up death forever"
No more funerals to attend.
No more final breathes exhaled
By a family member or friend.
No more scary stories
About how our planet will die.
"The earth remains forever"
And will expose this careless lie!
In times of fear, sorrow and darkness,
It's very hard to see
How what's envisioned with eyes of faith
Will soon come to be.
But the promises of forevermore
Are trustworthy. Are true.
For they come from the most reliable source ~
The creator of me and you.
To think of what might soon appear
To think of things that just might be
To plan each step that you will take
So your path is not hard to see
You take your time because you know
To think of what might soon appear
Around the traps you then will go
A life you'll have that knows no fear
You understand how to adhere
To standards that are set in life
To think of what might soon appear
Will help others to avoid strife
Though others think you move to slow
You understand when you come near
Of the place that will be your goal
To think of what might soon appear
For Constance La France Ponder in Poetry Contest
Death of Americans, we remember, the ones that died from the failure to secure.
Death of Americans, we remember, the lost that died from the ones that failed to protect.
Death of Americans, we remember, we see the plan that has brought us here.
Death of Americans, was preventable, Americans have been tricked into thinking they are safe.
Death of Americans, we remember, we will save America and move forward.
Death of Americans, we remember, and will work to make Americans safe and secure in the future.
Death can also be by ways that are hard to see, like not allowing jobs, not allowing good food choices, causing homelessness, causing lack of medicine, just to mention a few.
Death of Americans, must end, we must work together to make our land safe and secure forever.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
You can blame me
But it’s not hard to see
The choices you choose to take
The decisions you’re willing to make
The connection you say isn’t deep
The little girl you never seek
She doesn’t know you
But you don’t want her to
Another man has stepped up to the plate
You say you’re being replaced
You never take accountability
You lack in reliability
You can blame me
But it’s not hard to see
Dare to be different
young lady,
don't get caught up
in this world of deception.
You are more precious
than diamonds,
pearls or gold.
Think about
that for a moment.
Diamonds
are found deep in the ground,
covered and protected until
they are found.
Pearls
are found deep in the ocean,
covered and protected until
they are found.
Gold
is found deep in the mines,
covered and protected until
it is found.
point being,
you have to dig deep
to find these treasures.
Every valuable thing
God placed on this earth,
is well covered and hard to see,
until it's discovered.
Dare to be different
young lady,
because
you are God's greatest
treasure,
and your body
is a temple,
discover the inner you,
the treasure that
is covered and protected.
Dare to be different
young lady.
He used to shine, the life of every room,
Sports car gleaming, he'd chase away the gloom.
Took us to places we never could dream,
Laughter and joy, we were part of the scene.
We'd race down the road, music up loud,
Living our best lives, feeling so proud.
He’d teach us the ropes, we’d laugh and we’d play,
But something’s changed, that was yesterday.
Now, I see him tired, with no smile in sight,
Chasing his days from morning to night.
His car’s parked now, dust on the hood,
He’s lost in the errands, doing what he could.
No longer the cousin who’d light up our world,
Now just a shadow, his joy unfurled.
Marriage is a chain that holds him tight,
No more fun, no more carefree nights.
He runs around, a slave to her need,
Chasing her dreams, planting the seed.
The man I knew is fading away,
Lost in the grind, day by day.
Where’s the man who once knew how to live?
Now he’s just tired, with nothing to give.
Marriage changed him, and it’s hard to see,
The man he was, is no longer free
Darkness makes it hard to see the light,
Deception makes it hard to trust good intentions.
I tried so many things with confidence,
Like a fearless bull,
You wonder where I found the audacity,
You wish you could be me
And make all your fears vanish.
Only if you knew,
I am as scared as you are.
Every night I fight demons unseen,
Wrestling with forces above, seeking clarity.
I wake up stronger, seemingly unbothered.
You marvel at how perfect I appear,
But I am not as perfect as I seem.
I am mortal, far from perfection,
A reflection of my own creation.
My competitive fire unsettles mediocrity.
I chased knowledge and ignored companionship;
Now knowledge flows,
And companionship feels alien.
You are scared of making cynical choices,
You ponder being the one or being alone
Seeking peace in chaos
And wondering how I figured it out.
Come here,
Only if you knew;
I am just as scared as you.
Once I was roaming in the street,
I saw something unusual during my visit.
It was already late midnight,
Hard to see anything clear under the street light.
But a wooden door was still opened,
Might be waiting when the night deepens.
The door bell looked annoyed,
As it was the hours for him to be deployed.
The door stood rigid a few inches above the floor,
Looks unclear and scary from outside.
Then I approached closer to knock,
To resolve this situation of deadlock.
The door smiled in state of denial,
Wait, please wait till a special arrival.
Like the root of a tree, it may be hard to see
How we could ever truly be free.
But the bark and branches swear it’s true
Just feel how tall you’ve grown, how you grew.
You stretch toward the sun,
Looking out for everyone.
Learning storms don’t come to stay,
They only teach you how to sway.
Rings inside you mark the years,
Every joy, every fear.
Every season left a trace,
Every scar still holds its place.
You may be buried deep,
But only while you sleep.
Darkness isn’t where you end
It’s where beginnings quietly bend.
You drank from doubt, you drank from ache,
Still you chose not to break.
Still you chose to rise and breathe,
Still you chose to believe.
You’ve grown far beyond a tree,
Maybe now you’ll start to see
You were never meant to kneel,
You were born to grow and feel.
You were born to bend, not break,
Born to choose, born to make.
Born to reach past what you knew,
Born to become something true.
You’ve grown far beyond a tree,
Maybe now you’ll finally see
You were always meant to be free.
The home-grown potato
Came flying across the long country kitchen table.
It flew by me before I saw it.
Mom had just boiled two dozen.
We were a big family.
Dad once said he could have
Been a major league pitcher.
The potato smashed in my older brother’s face.
Suddenly I believed my dad.
I never believed what he said,
Not because he lied, but because he was angry
Most of the time.
I was only six, too young
To make such distinctions. I still doubt angry men—
Woman less so;
Hard to see the truth through enraged eyes.
The bicycle had a flat tire for days
Dad said leave it—I got it.
Seven days in a row
Only bike we could afford.
“Dad, let me fix it.”
Really, Dad!
Toss a hot potato for that?
I kept my mouth shut
Told myself, “You are only six.”
Fool or coward?
Next day I rode the bike
Over to my friend’s yard.
For the second time, to foresee everything that love commits
It is hard to see, where wrong and boundary correlate.
So burden would not be love; somber is just hard to translate
Unfortunately, it's hard to designate, that it may never be delicate
The first time, thought love transcends mortality and duration
Giving up is the hardest-- to fulfill the adjudication
I am foretold that love is a sacrificial lamb existence, more on
Moron that i could be the way I am treating the situation
Now it is the fourth time; I never heard of the third.
I skipped it, made of traumas like a herd
Shepherd-- me convincing every pieces, even it is blurred
Though, it is hard to find, my glasses broke, everything scattered
Now, I realized, the pattern is so specific
It looks like mentally challenging;horrific.
That, what I just remembered-- munific
What RIvermaya just performed is honorific
Though even I see that, love eats me out
Every love I fought just made my feet seethe with gout
It is for Rivermaya with no doubt
That narrative of genuine love, still works out
It is a desolate area
Surrounded by hills
And a high but steep dirt road
There are barren trees of different sizes
But the house is above the road with bushes
Hard to see at the very top of the dirt road
On a windy day there are little dust storms
The dirt flies everywhere but up to the house
But no mice or rats because there is hot sauce
And baking soda all around the exterior of the house
Anything that falls goes no further than the dirt road
In winter the house gets what snow that the trees do not
But not much mud because it is on its own hill
And none of surrounding hills are close enough to throw any
The only noise is from the sky when an occasional air crat flies by-
Every car goes slow enough to avoid going over the cliff
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