Rust flaked signposts,
from dew-stain,
era enigmatic,
omen, symbol,
scratched by,
yellow fog weather,
floating visual,
or pigment’s,
crumpled inmost span,
waned crossing,
I peer with,
hazed whimsy,
on my prime flush,
streetscape ambit,
what is destination,
but infinity of kismet,
elliptic nudge from afar,
“BLINDLY” lolling in,
circular pursuit,
then founding paradigm,
raise the “BLINDS,”
wisps of unearthly whisper,
almost orange-red robin,
yet impactful brain stroke,
luminous and lucid,
a close kin carols,
your inlying map,
is weatherproof,
absorb urban soundings,
with gut sense hunch
Spontaneous Prosody
a
projective
metaphysical
glowing
imitation
of
the inmost
soul
this muse
aglow
in
harmony
of
inner
needs
in
a
crisis
of
confidence
a
traditional
original
heart
with
an
individual
talent
in
retrospect
a
theory
on
loving
toward
the
pure
yet
modern
the
romantic
picturesque
beauty
sublime
a beautiful
principle
briefly
sureal
aglow
in
a
future
memoire
Awaken me to your amorous assurances
Bind me to your sweet, sensuous soul
Connect me to your comforting care
Dance with me in dreamland's distant skies
Embroider me in harlequin patterns
Forge me into a freeing form
Gild me with that golden stardust
Hold me close to your heart, darling
Invite me into your inmost inbox
Join me in affection's joyous journey
~ "Kiss me when the sun sleeps..."
Love me till forever lasts
Make me your miracle moonbeam
Nestle me in your nurturing arms
Overwhelm me with outstanding devotion
Please me with pure tenderness
Quiet me when trouble trotting comes
Ravish me with rambunctious passion
Savour me slowly in silken shadows
Touch me with your roving, romantic hands
Unwrap me with "your fingers around my soul"
Veil me in velvety embrace
Weave me into your heart's tapestry
X-out my fears, tears and smears
Yoke our hearts into one essence
Zoom me into Zephyr's whispered promises
She kept her secrets of love tucked away
In a shoebox, a forbidden affair
Protected deep in her innermost heart.
Their warm, playful, and inmost affection
Had blossomed in their youth, under a full
Moon that hung large in a sky scattered with
Millions of radiant magical stars.
But she had been promised to another.
A deep hearty view about "just kidding"
Can relate silence to dying feeling's quest,
Dreaming of moments to seal nice bidding...
Love can't crave less what its morales suggest.
A blunt crazy truth against "I don't know"
Can give knowledge to doubt, gentle mind mash,
Staging unseriousness as lucid blow...
Storm try tempts its unaware violent splash.
A calm norm while approaching "I don't care"
Can bail out tricks peace held in cell for long,
Shaping bravery to tackle inmost flare...
Misguided to depend on pointless wrong.
A painful but emotional "it's okay"
Can't lead on a dark grief to lightened fray.
What mystery binds his poesy,
what purpose is behind his art:
to pose, “To be, or not to be?”
confronts the self-reflecting heart?
What destiny has this poet,
what future prospects wait for him,
when his words pretend to know it,
but the skeptics won't explore them?
Truth's cryptic message hides in rhymes,
chameleon-like, and spreads as memes,
disguised, rewritten several times,
to fit his coded, programmed themes.
The Enigma of this poesy's rhyme,
and process, meant for the clever mind,
to search their inmost, heartfelt clime,
to peel back the puzzle's layered rind.
Each day, for me, is an endless delight.
Rainbows of optimism enchant my sight.
Like monsoon drizzles, fullness flows and floods.
Worlds of hope are seen in the blooms and buds.
There's an unknown stir in my inmost soul.
A weird whirl curls and furls my hidden goal.
A sunbeam silently enters my shrine.
Like gold in the sun, my heart and mind shine.
New blood of change flows through new flesh and veins.
The environs are in mirth, freed of pains.
As the grace of the divine fills the earth
Physique and psyche gain constant new birth.
Each day seems to be an endless delight.
Rainbows of optimism enchant my sight.
Like monsoon drizzles, fullness flows and floods.
Worlds of hope are seen in the blooms and buds.
There's an unknown stir in my inmost soul.
A weird whirl curls and furls my hidden goal.
A sunbeam silently enters my shrine.
Like gold in the sun, my heart and mind shine.
New blood of change flows through new flesh and veins.
The environs are in mirth, freed of pains.
As the grace of the divine fills the earth
Physique and psyche seem to gain new birth.
Did I ever know that I would be born?
Did I decide my psyche and physique?
Why is a rose shielded by a sharp thorn?
Providence creates each creature unique.
I think of building a castle for me.
I end up assembling a thatched hut.
When I, like a sparrow, wish to be free
An unknown force, from within, keeps me shut.
Untimely rain signs on the summer breeze
Floods and droughts play tragedies unannounced.
Earthquakes shake the inmost shrines of the seas.
Divine verdict is wordlessly pronounced.
Events, like gift foils, wrap my existence.
Existence, in turn, is wrapped by Providence.
Within the secret sacred shrines of any rose
Dwells a well filled with fountains of a unique scent.
This scent pervades the florescence as each bloom glows.
Though the rose may fade, its scent endures without end.
The fragrance is not on her peripheral skin.
This aroma arises from her spotlessness.
Facing each thick and thin of the seasonal spin
The fragrance finds the inmost shrine's bottomlessness.
My soul is the fulcrum of the scent of goodness.
It's from here that the scent spreads in acts of compassion.
With the unending showers of divine kindness
The stream of scent secretes and flows with dispassion.
Could any rose forget and forsake her fulcrum?
It's towards the lesser-known scent, I Am a Pilgrim.
You are my strong man.
You never try to pursue glory or praise,
You don't run after mere appreciation or raise.
It is the invulnerable faith that lies inmost.
That you know it will keep you going.
Quietly and silently you keep on working and striving,
For the one whom you love and care the most.
Each day seems to be an endless delight.
Like rains of monsoon fullness flow and flood
Rainbows of optimism enchant my sight.
A world of hope is seen in each new bud.
There's an unknown stir in my inmost soul.
A sunbeam silently enters my shrine.
A weird whirl curls and furls my hidden goal.
Like gold in the sun, my heart and mind shine.
New blood of change flows through new flesh and veins.
Physique and psyche seem to gain new birth.
The environs are in mirth, freed of pains.
As grace of the divine pervades the earth
Slow and serene could I walk at the jheel
If wore on my visage a pleasant smile,
Relaxed to core, deep-set laity to feel,
When weary thoughts were left behind to pile.
A seed of joy within sprouts peace and love,
What a perennial source in life it is!
But not for me in rush, ever on move,
Ever on rise a buoyant sea to seize.
Life’s leisured walk, a sprint nor blindfold race,
If to reflect I opt for peaceful pause
That puts me in prime touch with inmost face,
Where’s joy in chasing a gossamer gauze?
Too bad, it dawns to me on a late day
That there's no way to joy, joy is the way.
_______________________
Sonnet |03.08.11, revised January 2025| joy, journey
Poet’s note: A jheel (Hindi) is a shallow, sprawling lake.
Jairus had faith in Jesus. He's a synagogue leader.
He was impelled to implore Jesus in his times of need.
Jesus knew his inmost heart, as he was a mind reader.
He pleaded with Jesus to heal his daughter. He agreed.
The compassion of Jesus the divine consoled Jairus.
She is not dead, he said. He called out Talitha Cumi.
All around him thought he wasn't aware of the crisis.
The girl rose up. All stood as though struck by a tsunami.
Full of concern, like a father, he told them to feed her.
They felt the Almighty himself had arrived before them.
With his affection, their gloomy existence, he did stir
Each little being, for him, was more than a precious gem.
Death is suffering; Jesus proved, life is a miracle.
When lost life is won, the joy gained is incomparable.
He's aged and gray yet my heart still melts,
his eyes and his smile have not changed
and put butterflies within
the inmost part of me.
Love is mystery
and will escape
the greedy,
squeezing
mind.
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