The valleys that once whispered love,
and carried laughter through the hills,
Now lies drenched in red silenced by fear.
The valley that once whispered tales of delight,
Now lie silent, soaked in blood and screams.
Henna on her hands, dreams in her eyes,
A bride wrapped in love, beneath gentle skies.
Vows still echoed in the mountain air,
When death struck — sudden, cruel, unfair.
He screamed, fell, blood on the ground,
She stood frozen, in silence profound.
The one she chose for life’s every mile,
Now gone, with no final smile.
The air filled with screams, children’s cry tore the sky,
Hands gripped with weapons, eyes empty, devoid of light.
They were tourists, not enemies or threats,
Pahalgam, so silent, why so numb?
Your rivers sang once, now why so silent?
You saw the blood, heard every cry
Yet why do your skies not weep or ask why?
If the words could stop the bullets fly,
If only hate would learn to die.
Will the nation wash this grief away?
Or freeze it in time as memories stay?
the s p a c e between us,
is lined with full stops
and wistful questions~
tucked within "inverted commas"
of w e e p i n g stars,
but I'm lost in
suffocating s i l e n c e...
t h i n k i n g
l o n g i n g
d r e a m i n g...
as Y o u, my beloved
are enough...the poetic pause
breathing between
stellar heartbeats
of the mourning sky~
punctuating promises
mirroring the magnetic
equations of l o v e ~
a cosmic pyramid
glazed with pearl-dust
as herbs of henna
soothe this soul
swollen with g r a t i t u d e
sipping midnight mocktails
like a dressed devotee
worshipping the aura of roses
within serene scriptures ...
do we want to know what’s behind
it - it the show, the drama, the comedy, the crown?
roll the tape, blind us
to the truth of the goofs
snapping turtles, caramel
the lines deceased
irreverence released
do you want to fall behind
the line, congo style
playing the bongos
on air, blowing off steam
Ricky’s loving
her deep red hair
henna is just a trick
he does tricks
morality took a leap, why
the dial into sleep?
David’s herding, no one heard
the sheep.
the bees buzzing
the birds whatzing
the show a go go
look on tape
to see what you believe
no one
in tv land is dressed in virtue
it’s a really big shoe
Ed Sullivan’s size
throw the curtain
don’t look behind the curtain
memorize the lines
even prairie lines
so sweet and innocent
don’t analyze
you’ll be disappointed
don’t buy the book
it’s not done by the book
there’s a cover for a reason
don’t meet the action figures
they don’t bend
you can pop their heads off
they’re not worth
a million dollar man
Farrah Fawcett wouldn’t give
him an eye
it’s rich
his life’s unreal
roll the real
world
Monsoon mornings are like a seedless vase filled with paralyzed petals.
I sit reminiscing, the fleeting frequencies of his ancient clock,
now cloaked in coal cobwebs composing skeletal memories;
a timeless token of unblemished innocence,
when tiny fingers, tattooed with henna butterflies,
awaited the dawning strings of golden kites.
I ponder if shadows of the moving moon still caress chiffon curtains, forming a crescent spoon,
resembling five marbles of childhood that played hide and seek,
to his virtuous voice echoing down hollow hallways~
homing a trail of tender heartbeats from the swings he made for us…
For the empty room of a wise man is never soulless.
It shelters fearless footprints of futuristic art, painted with patience,
when fairies of twilight forget the lyrics of starry lullabies.
Tonight, I trace whispering wallpapers,
listening to the sound of my grandfather’s perennial promises~
that linger forever, embalmed in sandalwood serenity,
while nightingales croon eclectic elegies to the mourning sky.
normally I think tattoos look strange on women’s bodies
this time the tattooing looks like henna, delicate and pretty
I have no critiques, am rather in awe this time actually
I remember Cleopatra's moon,
as triangles of time
unveiled pyramids embalmed in
juniper, incensing golden dreams.
While in desolate dunes
of the sunrise Sahara,
I've engraved your initials
with pearls and diamonds.
For in lunar silence
when cylinders of stars
embellish skies with hieroglyphics,
destined twin flames ascend.
You’ll remain a musical~
maestro, choreographing our pilgrimage
to attain heaven beneath
henna herbs of love.
Seconds after the librarian shut off the lights and locked the door
Three ancient muses arrived from the land of Never More.
Their exotic makeup and henna showed them in a wonderful light.
I heard their jingling bracelets as they danced into the night.
Where did they come from? I whispered to a furry thing next to me.
A large bear. Call me Papa he said, as we stared at the dancing three.
They usually dance in the children’s section, so let’s go that way.
I followed his lead as did two other bears whose names I cannot say.
Someone flew down from the chimney looking for his shadow next.
He had a faerie with him and they both began to crazily inspect…..
Every single nook and drawer in the library and I mean them all.
Next arrived a giant from Lilliputian, whining that his phone would not call.
Before the night was over I saw things I had never thought to see.
Many Halloween creatures came by and gave a fright to me.
I was careful to never again be locked into the library when they closed.
Pixies and gnomes came by to stare and my brain shut down and frozed.
Vixie was the first fox in the woods to get a henna tattoo
She was adorable, beautiful, the vixen named Sue
We asked who had done it this lovely day in November.
She lied through her teeth, saying she did not remember.
We followed her around and asked her kin and such.
But they feared her wrath and said they did not remember much.
No Alice in Wonderland
Callous
Alice
Sacrificial Lamb
Blame me
Amy
Fan of the Panda Bear
Andie
Pandie
Miss Hollywood
Star Queen
Arlene
The Trifling One
Petty
Betty
One Gorgeous Redhead
Henna
Brenna
Miss Sophisticated
Classy
Cassie
Not so Sophisticated
Gassy
Cassie
Miss Detective
Police
Clarice
Fragile: Treat with Care
China
Dinah
Miss Flamboyant
Showy
Chloe
The Lesser of the Flamboyant ones
Tawdry
Audrey
The Laggard
Lazy
Daisy
The Imprudent One
Folly
Dolly
Stars in her Eyes
Eileen
Sky Queen
Earth Girl
Terra
Farrah
Barbie hails from India
With dark eyes and ebony hair
Slick and straight, soft to the touch
Her golden sarong is exotic and chic
Adorned with rhinestones and pearls
There is such a glitzy-ness to this Barbie
She must be of the highest caste I think
Nothing else would make sense
I get ready to put henna on her hands
Santa’s a superhero thanks to Sienna
She’s made a Marvel with her old school penna
So let’s not stop with Putin
When it’s Trump we’ll be bootin
Next elections, he and his orange henna
Santa in red tights and a fur lined cape
His new Marvel powers no villain can escape
Trump, don't mess with the jolly man
He'll kick your orangutang can
And leave you but an empty shell of an ape
THE WORD ALIVE
O shower of rain,well of
fresh water,stream of life
to me.
First fruit on my
apple tree.O cluster of
henna, my beautiful crown
a pearl of great value ,this
rose of Sharon.
Lily of the valleys,
an indescribable gift,
a door for the sheep,
present future & past .
Beginning and end
my comfort and friend.
Inspired by the biblical names
Of Jesus.
Jasmine blooms adorn your hair, handsome
Gold anklets swish neat tales my awesome
henna in those cute hands is bosom
rose tears perfume fills the room, awesome
Your rubies and jade have made you bloom
charming diamond bangles, my awesome
Coal makeup let your eyes fade the gloom
wear the pearl necklace will shine; awesome
Why your blond face peak same as a gnome
The groom's voice from afar, my awesome
Your dresses were snatched here and, there some
captivate with your sparkle awesome
you are a quaint heaven bride, oh groom
you are Soto blessed bride, my awesome.
Written March 3rd, 2022
The majority of mine lxiii years
expended delving deep into imagination,
yours truly escaped, loosed, thwarted...
reality courtesy bookland
roaming cerebral cortex terra firmae
did not amp pulley satiate
seemingly depression found me
(an uncompetitive, oversensitive,
intuitive, contemplative bookworm)
with scrunched pate,
a day short and a dollar late
one dime a dozen lad
hood scrimp and scrape,
a familiar pattern typified fate
viz - hand to mouth bleak
how zing existence aye equate
extant throughout three score
plus three years date
journeys round el sol,
this varsity schlepper, procrastinator,
malingerer did create
current emotional state
mottled with sea henna tint
financial, emotional and
psychosocial characteristics stint
aye serum eyes while
in utero the blueprint
indelibly etched analogous
brand York Peppermint
also analogous to musician
recording tracks upon primed glint
ting digitized compact disc
clear polycarbonate plastic substrate,
a reflective metallic layer,
and a clear protective coating
of acrylic plastic
breakable as flint.
red rose in hand, with
heart designed in peach henna
she walks in her sleep
16 July 2021
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