O Quintessence!
That which makes us, shapes us,
Through the dirty day
From dust to dust –
Did they know, when they unleashed you, what they wrought?
Stellar eternity condensed in cataclysmic instant,
Iota wreaking death, and smaller blasphemy –
Brief man stealing star-power against the night.
Did he know, when he died the little death, what he was doing?
Not you, for true, but great symbolic father in the garden;
Death brings death, seed seed, life life – the third will last
Then may we live in harmony with you, O fundament.
May we find a link that harms not you nor us.
The wild fruit we may not see again,
And End awaits he who tastes the tamed –
Somewhere in between, then, and let it, like a pomegranate,
Sweet us, bind us to it, that me dwell our time
No less, no more.
They Call themselves friends , but then they deceive you.
Their hearts are merely full of evny and treacherousness.
They plot to exploit you and take advantage.
They are only friends for benefits.
They seek only friends with benfits.
The minute you cannot help or assist them, they leave or elope.
When you can offer them something they tag you the nicest friend.
The minute you are broke or broken you cannot see them of find them.
For you are now no use to them.
They forsake you just so.
They exibit not one iota of loyalty or sincerity or stickability.
they are soo devious it's not funny.
But Remember they are your friends.
Yea yet they are friends. Friends to the end. Only what end?
Yet noty all friends are like that, there are a few true true friends.
Uncondional, consumate, most genuine, not mimic.
Cherish them most kindly and warmly.
At the altar, see
our shadows serving
under the hand
of our Majesty’s Spirit.
In this succinct space,
how does God lean
into us, light up
our souls - with healing,
comfort, ameliorating whys.
His Spirit overshadows us.
Undeserving mankind,
less than an iota of sand,
means much more
than we can fathom
to the weightiness
of the savior’s cause.
God’s face had turned
from sin - to bridge the gap,
a worthy sacrifice;
completing the action,
resurrection after death.
That same Holy Spirit
in operation,
at the altar -
we should be duly in awe,
thankful beyond measure,
drawing closer
to His safe, loving, grace-full arms.
Precious, pretty, fleeting.
Flitting butterfly, lifting
wings, too heavy.
One, two, three…
One, two, three…
the flower’s delighted
to be explored.
Colors, themselves,
adored or unnoticed.
Just that one spot, spotting
the prettiness in the pot;
the stems stand tall;
lantanas, an unsung song.
Silence in the flapping.
How can the breeze accommodate,
provide a zephyr, a zip, a zest,
unrest?
My eyes rest upon loveliness -
this fixed point; is the universe
such things - I could explore
forever, one iota at a time.
Place: Honourable mention
“Oh, my dear mirror!
You show the queerer,
The beautiful and the ugly,
As they are!
Everything on the left
Stays on the left;
Everything on the right
Stays on the right.
What you see, you show,
Neither less nor more!
You’re the best judge,
That we all know!
Even for the sake of fun
Against none,
You never show
An iota of grudge!”
When I ask, if it has anything
to say on the contrary, it humbly says,
“If I’m curved inwardly or outwardly,
I show you the things quite differently!
If I’m broken into many pieces,
A shattered image you get from me!
I’m impartial to the core when I’m flat,
And reflect exactly what is before me!”
You are portrayed altogether differently
By the people with crooked minds!
People with plain minds portray you as you’re!
A great lesson from the mirror, we’ve to learn!!
I’m …
(thus told)
oft’ purveyor of a pen
drowning in the anguish of the heart …
bulletin:
love - not always love
love - always pain
always -
all ways …
wherever, whatever, WHOever the
soul divides for,
consumed, one day …
lost to time’s bitter casualty -
forever’s coda,
postscript of existentialist id …
not an iota
escapes the darkest of fates
ALL is impermanent
and sorrow, the outcome …
in contention, then -
pray, how moans the sea
if not broken on a reef?
how chants a catbird
if not mourning for its mate?
how drinks the earth
without heaven’s weep?
and how bright a sun, if not immersed in
the bitter, unforgiving black of space?
please fear not, that ache -
those throes of casualty are but
the ripples of passing on love’s expanse -
those prayerful pangs,
the precious payment for
life’s dearest …
so, if that blessed abyss be
the stead of my demise,
embrace it, I shall …
and if those briny beads of the
eye are the only coursing for my ink,
so be it …
there are far more poisonous
potions to waste words …
upon.
You said you loved me,
But you still left me,
And you took a piece of me with you,
And I want it back.
I gave you my heart,
But you broke it,
You took a sledgehammer to it,
And left me to pick it up piece by piece.
If you really loved me,
You would’ve accepted me,
If you cared enough,
You’d still smile at me.
Whenever I pass you,
You don’t even look at me,
Your eyes are cold,
And your heart is hardened.
In my hardest time,
You knocked me down,
You left me for dead,
With not one iota of emotion on your face.
From someone I know to someone I knew,
In the blink of an eye,
If you cared enough,
You’d still be here.
I did not think their music could become one iota more annoying
I was wrong
Maybe it’s the loudness; my ears are cringing
My sensitivity is crying
Why oh why do people use pounding music in a public place?
It does not help that I am waiting for a haircut
And two people are ahead of me
Neither of them looks like they even need a haircut
While I look like the wild child of Borneo
Who put her fingers in a light socket
A farmer ploughs his field,
And sows the quality seed,
Expecting a bumper yield.
He is so ambitious in deed!
The minimum support price,
He fails to get for his produce,
Instead receives many an advice.
Finally, found hanging to a noose!
His Echo Returns Not!!
A bride as a spouse,
In mind with many a hope,
Enters her in-laws house!
With them, she can’t cope!
For her to rejoice her married life,
There, she finds not an iota of scope!
She is denied her status of a wife,
For everything she gets a ‘nope’!
Her Echo Returns Not!!
They, who are readily and always available;
Checking if your vital signs are stable.
They work round the clock with lives in their hands.
Carrying out nature's most delicate command.
They go into the surgical room without an iota of fear,
Bringing the much needed hope and chasing away despair.
The surgical robe, a garment light as a feather;
Worn by the doctors, heavy as a boulder.
ECG steadily beeping, ECH continuously whooshing,
They are intricately focused, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they are perspiring.
The nasal cannal steadily pumping oxygen into the patient’s nostrils,
Leaving no room for disaster and peril.
They're racing against time, or rather, in a race with the Grim Reaper;
One trying to harvest lives, the other trying to preserve.
They deserve their flowers, a kiss and a thumbs up,
For sticking with us and never giving up.
By;
Solace.
Be the biggest fan
Of yourself
Before others
For when the waves
Are against you
You can still rely
An iota to pull
Yourself up
Because you believe
That you yourself alone
Can help you
Stand and survive
The hurdles of life.
Oh, lovely flowers
Greet my nightly song
Upon this starry, starry night
In my bed I see your plight.
What a dream it was
Sharing the love we had
All night long is sweet ever
In your embrace I quiver.
Oh, how lovely you are
To me, is just a fantasy now
As you turn my joy to sadness
You choose money than fondness.
Beauty to me is veiled farce
Love dies when money wise
Insecurities has reason to believe
When heart has no more vision to relieve.
How long this craziness I hide
When no more iota of trust remain
Love is funfare and self-eloquence
As grave is waiting great for a lonely prince.
The islands seem afloat in the sea
So have they been through the ages
Yet they have not gone on a journey
Even as they are bombarded with waves
When a tempestuous storm rage
They are anchored at the deepest level
At the bed of the ocean floor
Where mainland and island are stayed
And connected as one massive body
That is the generous, loving Mother Earth
Individual human beings are islands
In the vast sea of Infinite Expression
Discrete as we perceive them in vision
Yet firmly held as one great mass
At the deepest level of our origin
In the indescribable Cosmic Assemblage
Where there exist no iota of disparity
As it does happen with shallow humanity
Arise all ye chelas of the Truth
And embrace the verdure of your nature
In the medical field where hierarchies reign,
Students’ growth can be stifled by the chain.
Boss’s word, as stone inscribed,
Leaves one baffled, thoughts denied.
Without an iota of doubt,
The question that sprouts:
Is there room for a healthy atmosphere,
Or will it be lost, dissolved in the sphere?
"Learning should be joy," let that be the theme,
"Please me" policies are but a meme.
Let curiosity flourish and bloom,
And wisdom dispel the shadows of gloom.
I want the best for you,
though I'm not your kin.
Like a stargazer,
I'm content to watch you
from below,
without wanting
or expecting
anything in return.
It is not for your love of me,
but for your light,
silent though it is,
that I sing of you,
bright rays
I'd hate to see dimmed
in the slightest,
by gossip,
by hate,
by jealousy.
It is from afar,
that I make a wish
for the best for you,
with not an iota
of resentment
towards you
for your reticence.
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