Amid great darkness
A beautiful light appeared
Carbon filaments
Incandescently lighting
Moving man out of darkness
You may missed it, but you are
incandescently alive; a shooting star
at dusk-colored sky. Falling
into the atmosphere, first contact of
fresh air. Friction
wears you armor in blazing flame, highlight—
In the star-sown space, you
a knight descending into this earth
on your loyal mount that is
you, and stardust from unnamed planets
that you once drifted among
aimlessly—until inevitably gravity
from this earth hooked
you. Out of all lost asteroids—
You
Into this earth
you fall, this earth you soar—in a sky shared
with this new species called doves, you
fly your own sky, draw
a tail of wonderstruck dusts
On trails no comets share, tremble—fear—
but keep chasing, by dint of
the white-hot oxygen that
ignites heartbeat at risk of explosion—
Know: in your motherland they speak
the tale of a young star
claiming his spark in new air.
This morning we jogged early
I was back in my flat by six-thirty
From my tenth floor view of the Charles River basin,
The morning was incandescently flushed by the peach-colored sun.
The transparent clouds seemed stylistically stained, artfully workshopped,
which offered a softened, Tiffany glass effect wholly worthy of worship.
I can’t stop to admire it. I’m jamming things into suitcases.
Cramming things into boxes, giving things away.
I had a second interview Monday afternoon, for Johns Hopkins med school. They put the question to me:
“The semester starts in 18 days - can you do that?”
“Yes,” I replied, and just like that, I'm a Blue Jay.
Of course, I had to withdraw from the masters program but Harvard gave me a full (95K) refund - I think they’re more excited about my med school admission than I am.
I’m not afraid of discordant notes.
They change the landscape.
Take us to new emotional places.
Any major work is going to have them.
.
.
A song for this:
Hang on Little Tomato by Pink Martini
It's Amazing by Jem
A twilight, hard as it tries to disparage,
shall always remain dazzling in my mind.
The Sun, down, down, into the dark of night
carried off by the gloaming, gently it goes;
glaring, blazing, and impressive to the eye.
Never forget the astral stellar winks skyward,
from the ever-present celestial constellations.
The dark is cloudy; the dark is opaque, much
like the closing curtain during the end of a play.
The zany mists of morning, but a lazy sonnet,
as rising smoke from a snuffed-out candle.
A sunrise light is gnomish; smaller, shorter, but
full of the light of day. Incandescently yours.
Tarry along now, the night a glorious memory,
a magical one-act play that awakens your day.
The teapot whistles, a toaster pops, time for
a muffin with blackberry jam and green tea.
I saw that girl,the mysterious one
Who roams in the corridors seen by none
I saw that girl,the mysterious one
I saw her walk past the doors
Hair draped by sunshine, footsteps against the floor
The touch so gentle as she picked up a book from the floor
Her name became a mystery,her face seen by none
I saw that girl,the mysterious one
Step by step she walked past shelves,corridors empty and a dozen racks
A voice drowned in sadness swept my ears as I looked back
There she sat in a corner with her face in her lap
I saw that girl,the mysterious one
Picked up her book,wiping up her tears
Face immersed in books,creating around her layer by layer
The book she held became the book of a griever
She was incandescently beautiful and beauty was the least of her
Her eyes deep as a an abyss made me drown into her
Hours flew,eyes met,hearts drowned,pains felt
I fell in love with that girl,the mysterious one.
keep the music sorrowfully low,
so big daddy doesn’t hear.
the shadowy figures, surrender
and whisper in your ear.
the psychedelic colors flow
like the sea foam beat.
Angie, your chromatic hair
smells incandescently sweet.
locked and loaded, alone
with your beastie dreams.
your pillow’s soft and it leans -
your coming apart “at the seams”
one boy plays peek-a-boo, sniffing
your honeysuckles suspended.
tickled by your goldilock curls,
not realizing all it portended.
like walking into the deep dark wood,
he creeps hand and foot, eyes first
like a prowling tiger, tail wagging,
with a rattling tongue a-thirst.
Angie, swooshes her fingers
through his hair, hushes him.
...he stares at the ceiling stars
...loud music descends on his limbs.
Angie digs her embryonic duffel bag,
smiles and adds his decomposing bones
to the ashes of her huge imagination
and recalls that in this world, she’s all alone.
5/8/2019
Musical Inspiration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Song choice: Angie, Baby by Helen Reddy
Dance with me
Under the apple blossom trees
Beneath a super blood moon
Shining radiantly, incandescently
Down on you and me
As we move on a soft warm breeze
As if floating effortlessly
Across the lush green grass of verdancy
Looking into each others eyes deeply
As if this moment defines the rest of our life
But in all honesty I hope to be with you beyond many more lifetimes
Our bodies entwined
And being of one same mind
That everything we share in life
Will be created from light
And inspired by love
Like this night
Dancing under the apple blossom trees
Under a super blood moon
That shines on our life radiantly, incandescent.
I wish I was an eagle soaring
With golden wings of light
Incandescently gliding across a moonlit sky
Swooping, diving, rising upwards
Harbouring dreams of a new age
Idyllic is the beauty of the feeling of feathered games
Wondering how the eagle feels soaring high over mountain peaks
Everlasting memories is that not what we all seek
Ruminating on questions about all that eagles see
Everlasting quintessential birds flying on filigree golden wings.
Eloquently serene
Reminds me of seas
Of aquamarine,
Peaceful solitude
Aids my dreams,
Of forested trees
In bottle green verdancy,
I create my dreams
In luminescent
Tangerine themes,
Warm is my heart
That is fired by my passion,
In flames that are burning
White hot incandescently,
In a life that has more colour
Than we think or we see,
Vermilion is my blood
That races through me,
Golden are my days
Bathed in spirituality
Filigree are the wings
On which I fly from thee,
Into a pink, purple and orange
I fade into this sunset
And let it envelop me,
As well as all my hopes, beliefs and dreams
For now and all eternity.
A rasping autumn's evening rings
Caressing in coppered exultation
Rising gently in satisfaction
And winter coming dances merrily
Time lifts with quiet dignity
In the starlit nighty
A cloud sparkles incandescently
As God draws nature in delicately
While artful flurries, spreading opulently
I light a candle for I love its soft light
But it flickers despite no breeze in night
I like the flicker, but I want it to be happy
To be steady, contented, a friend true and sure.
Is it puffs of wind that disturb it so?
I feel no draft of breeze on go
Perhaps its warmth creates its own updraught
Perhaps it knows more than I about air care.
Is there a spirit congealed within the wax?
That I bring to life with enlighted match
If so then I welcome this spirit stuff strut
But Please! Stop waving at me incandescently.
Is there some imperfection in the candle?
Have I urged in buying too cheaply, got junk
Next time I'll buy better, I promise.
So Please! Stop the flicker, forgive me!
When I stare at the candle intensely
Does it flicker more or less
Is it better this way or that?
Forget the flicker, move it away a tad.
There now, the flicker is beyond peripheral
It is still there ticking away its flicks
But flicker and I have compromised
A concensus to be unconsciously enlightened.
“...fallen into the sere, the yellow leaf”
As the Bard penned, describes eloquently
How old age steals up on us like a thief
At night, invisible and silently
We frown at the mirror in disbelief
At wrinkles, lost teeth and vitality
So, something that brings a smile to one’s face
Helps roll back the years and glumness displace
The label promises blooms from this box
Each yellow sunflower yields thousands of seeds
Which lure insects in swarms and birds in flocks
Its cousin, cosmos, will out-climb the weeds
Nigella (or love-in-a-mist) grows stocks
Of blue flowers enough for all our needs
Oh, and then there’s the lovely red poppy
No other garden flower can copy.
Antirrhinum (from Greek) means `like a nose’
Called snapdragon it opens for a bee
A cold weather plant that can survive snows
Midget, medium or tall it might be
But each red, white, pink or yellow bloom glows
Like a hot ember incandescently
Last, lavender exquisitely scented
If they all grow, I’ll be well contented
My Mornings are now, well, wonderful.
Something I now look forward to.
There is a bird singing outside my window,
And he sounds a lot like you do.
The problem is, he has to fly away, every now and then,
And I wish that he could stay.
But he takes my heart upon his wings,
And somehow makes it all okay.
And even though what keeps me from him,
Is a million constant waves.
He moves me so, incandescently,
In a billion different ways.
If only he could see my eyes,
He’d see the joy he brings.
He’d see the glistening happiness…
In the corners, where it stings.
And even when his years are numbered,
And his feathers have turned to grey…
I’ll be lying against my window.
Loving him.
As if, it were the very first day.
glistening, sparkling
incandescently bright blue
pool of mystery
You’re an enduring eclipse of quotidian winsomeness,
Existing in front of all others, compelling the aforesaid into your shadow:
My Beautiful One…
Surpassing their talent for beauty,
By allowing the world to witness your gift for it:
My Beautiful One…
Rejuvenating a word once relegated to becoming depthless,
Its affects near fleeting, Beautiful showed few signs of standing peerless as it once did,
Though within your presence, Beautiful is brought back to its quintessence, to its inception,
Shown the miracle it was conceived in, you’ve promoted its ordinance even over that of the beholder’s vision:
My Beautiful One…
In your arms, embosomed by you, Beautiful is free from its superficial cellar,
No longer just vernacular, the “B” word for pretty, or merely our lexicon’s adornment.
No, My Beautiful One…
In your face, Beautiful finally returns nature’s true reflection,
Your facial features burn incandescently and uncontrollably, fueled by a lifetime of beauty all in one place.
My Beautiful One anoints Beautiful with her grace, returning its virtue,
Granting it renewed potency…thought lost for always…
Written in Afghanistan -27 OCT 2013
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