A stalled monsoon trough over central Nepal
caused continuous torrential heavy rainfall
Slopes pushed up moisture from the Bay of Bengal
The catastrophe was looming large to befall.
Sudden breach of a moraine dam
Triggered Glacial Lake outburst floods
A surge of water and debris devastates
downstream, catching communities off guard.
Landslides continued to collapse slopes,
forming temporary dams that later burst
Steep valleys amplified runoff swift and fast
Flood of fury of all time unleashed the worst.
A compound climate disaster of twin sciences
Meteorology and geology to decipher in depth
monsoon extremes, unstable glaciers, terrain hazards
Perished hundreds of lives and left many homeless.
Sparse sensors, lack of predictive models a curse
Warrant real time glacial monitoring at source
With closely spaced weather station networks
And cross border early warning systems
…….Narayan Gadagkar
I have almost sleepless lonely nights
Here in my room with string of neon lights.
I wish you could be here every single night.
I need God to hear my longing plight.
I have almost no true lingering feelings
For those which I had former dealings.
But I choose you for a far deeper reason
Than to be anyone's for merely a season.
I have almost nothing of my ego left,
Due to all the times in which I was bereft.
I can only offer you my own divine soul,
For my mortal heart has taken many a toll.
I have my wounded heart open to you.
You are pink salt which will heal me through.
Your love heals and soothes my bruises.
I hope my love for you, never confuses.
It is too many Peaks towering high
Snow-capped giants scraping the sky
Mighty Himalayas
Cold winds howl and icy blasts sigh
It is too treacherous
Those jagged peaks were so perilous
Glaciers groan and shift
Avalanches roar, and the danger is furious
It is too remote
Villages clinging to precipitous slopes
Narrow trails wind
?Few dare venture where only mountain folk cope
It is too unforgiving
Altitudes leave climbers gasping for air
Lack of oxygen
Only the most fit and resilient dare
It is too unpredictable
Weather changing in a breathless beat
Blizzards raging
Whiteout conditions, a frozen white sheet
It is too isolated
Valleys cut off from the world outside
High passes are closed
For seasons long, communities abide
It is too well-known range by Sherpas
Reading the signs, they alone can guide
Tales of the Yeti
In that vast wilderness, they reside
It is too extraordinary
These mountains that the human spirit defy
The mystical call
To summit those peaks where only brave hearts crave
Better to reach for something
and miss
than to hold back playing it safe
Destiny in the intention
and choice
hesitance falling from grace
Better to be adopted
by truth in flight
than the orphan of a lie
Where words and music marry as one
on the highest mountain
—you climb
(The New Room: January, 2024)
There's an eatery here in my hometown I'd heard about,
That features exotic wild animal fare so I thought I'd check it out!
I perused the menu and here are a few examples of its bizarre cuisine:
Slow-broiled and marinated Indian elephant spleen;
Delectable bar-be-qued Texas style rib of rattlesnake;
Tender sixteen-ounce portions of grilled hippopotamus steak;
Choice butterflied pork tender-loin from corn-fed por(k)cupine;
Wild Arkansas boars' feet boiled and pickled in spicy brine;
Fresh flown-in daily from Alaska, deep-fried buzzards' gizzards;
Finely sliced sauteed tongue of Komodo Dragon lizards!
I decided to order an enticing delicacy that really caught my eye;
'Twas a dish called Braised Himalayan Rabbit that I thought I'd try!
I asked the server about its origin and its preparation mode.
"First" said she, "we find him-a-layin' on the road!"
(At that I stifled a roiling barf and from there I quickly strode!)
waterfalls thunder down Himalayan peaks,
cuckoo calls pierce echoing mountains,
April displays stalls of flowers for customer bees,
pines wait, wearing overalls of pearl white snow,
river flows silent between walls of ancient rocks!
Something beautiful in 5 lines poetry contest
Charles Messina sponsored
written 07/Nov/2021
rhyme see bold highlighted words
Imagine me the creature in broad daylight
with green metallic crest
as I flaunt a copper plumage wild and free
whilst feathering my nest
native of the Himalayan range I scale
the sun drenched mountain peaks
the zoom and swoop spirit I encapsulate
when skimming gold vein creaks
I dwell on red oak conifers or alpine
meads bound by rock-strewn ware
pale blue eye patch forager whose curved bill dig
unearths a snow crust fare
coruscating migrant over altitudes
whose bone chill turf I fly
rooster among canopies I hatch my brood
with poignant shrubland cry.
I am a Bird - Personification
Tania Kitchin Sponsor
Date submitted 26th July 2020
The view is one of rare and ineffable beauty
as our plane passes over the Himalayas.
Mountains, enveloped in dense forests
embroidered with meandering rivers and streams
exude the soothing radiance of green.
The sky is a panoramic show of clouds
appearing in myriad forms:
layers of vapor surging forth;
fluffy balls floating around
or nestling against mountain peaks;
a goddess majestically looking down;
and soon,
a lion looming through the mist.
All at once, the show climaxes:
it's clouds and only clouds crowding the scene.
They look like mountains of snow outshining
the real snowy peaks they now hide;
as they hide everything else: even the blue sky
peeping out through chinks.
A sarcastic frown;
Labeled grumpy old feline;
Still beauty is found.
As the bus rode
through the molting pine forest and
the crumbling ochre rock formations;
bits of colorful cellophane litter brought the only relief to the eye.
Inside, behind a profusion of people,
boxes, backpacks and assorted baggage
babies slept.
The bus creaked, shook and groaned
its way down the serpentine,
asphalt, mountain track.
Passengers chattered away in Indian, Nepalese, Danish and English,
abrasively punctuating
a Universal discourse;
As the vehicle draped from roof to bumper,
careened from rock walls
to sheer ledges, beeping.
Stray pets and wayward cyclist dodged its downward flight
Into the valleys maw.
The young men sat, planted under the overhang
like the pansies and geraniums that surrounded them in boxes,
as the rain pelted the terra-cotta terrace.
The mountain air was sharp with the taste of lightening.
Having bid farewell to the arched shard of a rainbow across the valley,
they sat tensely watching the celestial bombardment of Katmandu.
The lightening stoked the day’s heat,
thickening the early evening sky like the yogurt they’d eaten for lunch.
A home-made rice wine poured freely over their tongues
from an innocent looking water bottle.
Their eyes turned garnet with the harshness of it.
The bottle sat with its tattered label, upon the arm of the white chair.
The wine within tasted faintly of the gasoline,
yet, they reveled in it, and the freedom from deep seeded societal traits,
it freed them from.
Overhead, the sky was draped in a bridal veil of stars;
as I emerged from the room to sit beside them.
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