Long Abating Poems
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crushed at rock bottom he gathered the fragments of descent
slow motion agony that started at a plateau of deluded deceit
free falling sadness spiraling out of control beyond fast repair
the black dog on his shoulder had survived the fall and barked
another round of sadness an insurmountable sorrow cheered on
‘you are useless and even void and oblivion are having a laugh’
a tunnel with no light and the canary asphyxiated in the mine shaft
another panic attack unable to ease the landing of a scarred mind
scared and confused he gathered the pieces and stabbing shards
with broken bones and un-abating accusations he collected his guilt
fears and shame about yet another defeat at the foundation of evil
demons and miserable clairvoyants spoke in bifurcated obsessions
possessed by the mother of all depressions he reached for a glimmer
of hope he searched for a message from science deities and reason
yet unable to guide his emotions all efforts crashed without rescue
the rope had twisted once more and he dangled helpless face down
just enough slack to disfigure his angry face that featured disgust
and yet as the blood flooded his brain he surrendered his objections
one final attempt and he severed the noose with the open fracture of
the razor sharp dislocation sticking out just below the palm of his hand
with a further snap of his wrist and life line he surrendered lost dreams
if life gave you hemlock but the vessel had cracked on the impact
of the smash and grab of lifeless cycle of disassociated insanity he
resolved to drink his own blood and call upon autoimmune response
after all the medication had been useless and hours on Freud’s couch
had only imprinted more festering pressure sores on purulent skin
cognitive explorations had only dragged him further down self-denial
religion mantras and science had failed to invoke sanity and healing
levitation would not emerge when he fell from the edge of madness
the cross lay in pieces and nails had lacerated his heart and resolve
just when he felt the pulse getting weaker and with delirious gaze
he succumbed to a last ditch attempt to reassemble a piece of his soul
wrote an ultimate will on the wall and vowed to hand over let go and live
15th June 2020
Deep ocean of azure blue
Overhead seagulls circling flew
In constant motion, heaving sides
The old merchant ship upon it rides
Rust scorched it's barnacled coat
Salt encrusted railings forever afloat
On the horizon's sinking sun's amber glow
Beckons enticingly along the flow
New moon appearing from out of the west
Silvery waves splintering against foamy crest
Figures emerging from the hold below
Peering skywards at the star studded show
Then into action to each their appointed task
Some heaving ropes, others mounting the mast
All working together to achieve one aim
To secure the sails aloft the bounteous main
A rumble of thunder and a flash lightening sound
Mountainous waves gather pace all around
Working in unison the crew now complete
All tasks meritorious as a well drilled fleet
A shout from the Captain, as the thunder roars
Urgently gesticulating "secure the oars"
Rain clashing as in sword play
Freeze drench they stand
As they see the top sail rend
Now all secured they disappear down
Below decks they ruminate
All worrying, no sound
Then vocal in assumptions from mate to mate
Until the Captain shouts "Silence no need for this din,
I shall calculate our bearings, now where to begin?"
Spreading out his charts he clears cups for a space
Each man concentrating, deep intent on each face
"Look Captain", one points "there's the Cape of Good Hope
enough time to manoeuvre and with luck stay afloat"
The temperature plummets and the crew mill around
No warmth except mittens and blankets draped around
The storm is abating and two bells is called
As each man takes turn to pump until hauled
Buckets of water overboard they keep on
Clearing sea water over gunnels, until all is gone
Ship breaking water all in it's wake
No matter the weather only headway to make
Dolphins leaping and diving below
Thoughts turn to seamen of long ago
Royal Navy Standards, a jolly jack tar
Plotting each course by the Northern Star
Pirate vessels hoisting their skull and crossbones
Biting winds moaning and pelting hailstones
Sailing ships with elaborate sails
Above the wind, sailors hearty hales
Anchorage sought and a comfortable berth
Homeward port reached and feet on the earth.
When I appear there Nature seems to
Dance and dance and dance,
When I disappear she is prone to
Weep and weep and weep.
Withdraws all clouds from sky to set a
Splendid scenery,
So that me rising from the river
Afresh may there espy.
Whether it sun or shower or snow or
Storm, when I arise
To set my arms, the setting Sun
Certainly will be there.
Women who go to the river for bathing
Choose my choicy time,
So that there they may bathe in warm and
Yellow sunshine time.
Now here a plant blossoms and blooms and
Soon another there,
Here Spring is reappearing, with her
Bring all beauties back.
Nature is dancing with her rhythmic
Steps and divine smile,
Why can't I row a boat here swaying
To and fro on waves?
The valleys wear their flowery carpets,
And the mountains are
Once again clad in colours, such this
Sylvan scene is set.
White cranes are there always on serene
Haunted islets sit,
Or stand by whiter cows there grazing
O'er the lushy green.
Suppose some Beauty glance and dance in
This wild atmosphere,
Then surely that's a dance to see, when
Mother Nature dance.
So Nature takes the pen out of my
Hands and writes for me,
May that there me, the clouds and cranes and
Cows and waves witness.
On cloudy days, practically there will be no sun to see. But it was my insistence that when I rise up after bathing in the river and look up to the sky, the sun should be there in the western horizon for me to worship. If it is a heavy raining day, I will select the time to go to the river according to when the rain will have a possibility of abating. Even on the heaviest raining days in the east, nature is benevolent enough to uncover sun at least for a few seconds. I will select this time to rise up from the river with my eyes closed and fervently wishing for father sun to be there when I open my eyes. With closed eyes when we look westward, standing river fresh, I don't know what makes it happen but the sun will always be there though sometimes be for only a few seconds. It is like this life-giver listens to fervent wishes of his off-springs and grants them.
A Poem By P.S.Remesh Chandran. Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books. Trivandrum.
Read more about our views on poetry and about our various poetry editorial services, kindly visit http://poetryeditservice.blogspot.in/
Who Am I To You?
Am I just a stranger?
An online lover or a nobody
That once who passes by
In a lifetime of your stream ?
Maybe a poet?
A woman only good in sweet words.
Easily fooled by his own feelings,
And by the world that often says
I am just another plaything?
A con artist? A pervert? A toy? Or
Perhaps, one of your movie character
That portrays your imagination
In a stage play of fantasy and dreams?
I am not perfect.
This is reality.
I am not a role model.
I have lapses and flaws.
I am not the woman of your past.
I can't look like her or be like that.
I am not whole, I am also broken
And still have issues of my own .
But the truth is, all of us
Needs to be loved and trying to love
In one way or another, our denials
That we keep telling ourselves
Will be defined by time and memories,
If we're truly happy of being alone.
If not, then tell me
Who am I to you?
Please tell me what we have
Is true, before I go...
©® Ven-lyn A Valdez
Who You Are To Me?
I find myself in thy manger
You are a modern Peabody
Whose pen aids to dye
My board with awesome dream
You are more than a poet!
The one out of all beautiful birds
That freely flies around the earth's ceiling
Unlike the caged birds with less ways
Timely been abating
The twist, the challenge, the fruit outpour
Enough pieces crushing like a constrictor
Holding unto a great aspiration
Flowing through grace so agleam
I am not only for prospect
This may be false in its seeming triviality
I am not a mollycoddle
Yet have respect for tight clause
You become of me, an enthusiast
With keen interest not eyeing to scat
Even when all of it is token
Bountiful harvest are from vial seeds, sown
Nevertheless, in my fuss
I will always be the real dove
And not act up for trials
Abandoned on shelves
The much ado about plight in diaries
Crying for reading to be well known
Life is short, let it be
Less to the review
More to life shouldn't really be halve
Totality is key to overlook every foe
You are who you are
Keep doing what you know best
Someday, you will be the shining star
Silent helpers locate what resisters detest
Shine on.........
©® Wems Henry Temmy
I heard Imagine, one of my favorite songs, this Juneteenth morning
and thought how John Lennons’s lyrics and music still ring true….
I suppose that’s because imagining is also one of my favorite things to do.
When I’m shocked and saddened at the hatred and prejudice I see
I imagine a world where people embrace our differences and live together in harmony.
When I look at the greed and selfishness occurring right outside my front door
I image a world where we feed the hungry…and house and clothe the poor.
When I see how we are heartlessly polluting the Earth’s skies, and land and seas
I imagine a world where we live in balance with the rivers, the animals and the trees.
When I think we are too accepting of people’s hate…and wait too long for it to start abating…
I imagine a world where we our love defeats the people who are hating.
Of course you may say I’m a dreamer…but that’s okay with me
because what helps to soothe my heart is knowing I’m in good company
I don’t always have to imagine a better world, however, because when also in front of me
acceptance, love, compassion and kindness are also plain to see.
Every time there’s a natural disaster…as we watch those affected try to cope
I see diverse neighbors and strangers coming together…offering friendship…kindness and hope.
Every time a countries goes to war…after every bomb their planes release…
I see people on both sides coming together in unity…
pleading for harmony and peace.
For every act of prejudice and bigotry that result in sorrow and despairing…
I see random act of kindness…I see empathy, love and caring.
For every sorrow that results from every needless death across this Earth…
there is the joy that fills the air from every newborn baby’s birth.
When I stop to think about the world I’m living…what is so evident to me
is how half the time I am disgusted…and the other half encouraged by what I see…
Which makes me wonder if enough of us dreamers
(for I believe there are more dreamers than haters in the world I see)
If enough of us got together
we could turn our imaginations…into reality,
Round 1: New York won!
By Brett Somers
Written 10-13-2018
Like a ghost in the shadows
New York
People and places and vaporware faces
New York
Experience of magnitude
To have everything in the world
Yet what at all?
Transient position
Always moving
New York
Cool spots, cool spaces
Beautiful faces
New York
Astounding architecture
Money and merchandise
A workers paradise
New York
Does one settle?
In New York
Rent is rising
Always compromising
Who’s your friend in
New York?
Meetups galore
Mr.’s and Mrs. and more
But who’s there anymore?
New York
Does New York have an artist scene?
When the arts are from out “there” but not in-between
New music, new arts?
Tourists are looking for the cover
Buskers better try another
New York
The scene
The scene
Where is the scene?
West Village you’re my beauty queen
But is jazz your only thing?
Trains oh, I’ve had enough
Loved the no car deal
But life in a subway
Always waiting
Dim lights, poor air
Rats abating
Are we friends New York?
How I loved you and your sampler of samplings
You grew on me but your shoes were too big
You made me yes, I’m thankful
Carved much of my lid
The anonymity did allow me to find my LGBT me
And to dabble in my artistry
To your big globe shaker
You shook me up and gave me more
A break from California’s shore
Fooled me once
And many times more
But I learned a few things
How not to be a bore
But your energy is surging
An electrocution
To my core
So I did my best
You hustled the rest
And now we must part
I’m hoping Austin’s more art
But let’s you and me be friends
I’ll be back again
For your addictive allure
That never ends
You’ll be my show stopping tour
And then you’ll finally venmo my pockets
Like the rich grandparent I always hoped for
I’ll forgive you for not embracing me
Like the Hudson embraces its humidity
I must admit you conquered me
But I’ll be back
I’m not finished with you yet
And when I return
It will be my turn to color the sky
With such a sound as you’ve ever seen
Embracing your lonely buildings
And reviving your dream
This August 26th , 2018 rendition
regarding previous literary endeavor
Wick End Up Date, Snippet Sans...
...The Deadly Scourge
...One Obsessive/Compulsive Disorder
(Never abating infiltrating
writing material e'en superceding
the death of John McCain, where
Munster monster rears gnashing
undermining marriage with ambivalence.
Anorexia nervosa absent bulimia
nadir of onset schizoid behavior,
which agonizingly slow suicide
self starvation maelstrom within
psyche of self prepubescent lad
(particularly devastating
immediate family members)
emaciation pitted existential
ghastly revulsion unseen,
wuthering heights wrung death
knell annihilating fragile entity
christened Matthew Scott Harris
obvious preemtory imprimatur
yieldeing covalent bond to die starkly
horrified kith and kin helpless
Zorro slashed signature profound
perilous depressive psychological gouge.
Now at about two plus score years
attaining centenarian rank perfect 20/20
hindsight supreme advantage swift under
currents alluded drowning, when das
scribe juiced started to nibble puberty,
whence devastating emotional crisis
tripped, trilled, and tricked chronological
clock theorizing numerous educated
guesses within mindful middle progeny,
and sole son (of Boyce and late Harriet Harris),
why I willfully hurtled flesh at light speed
down abyss toward death. Literal and
physical lightness manifested within
nooks and crannies prior to full blown
symptoms to eliminate sustenance
drawing curtain on brief residence be
fore high noon of life. Metamorphosis
from boyhood into man found solace
attempting to keep at bay natural cycle,
which trans formation grieved me
pining nostalgic childhood’s end
(one fraught with romanticism)
vengefully interpreted attempt to halt
deadly tracks intervention of mother,
whose nursing experience helped fend
passive attempt promulgated silent...
BAT SONG
(This Song was written in 2009 for a dramatised Rap Music & Dance Group in Rural South Africa. They wanted an amusing song with a message incorporating an unusual rural image. It unfortunately was not performed on stage, but the young teenage group had great fun practicing the drama-song.)
[TWO CHORUSES]
She tried to fly
was too blind
Up she went, fell, fell
flapping webbed wings
in a dirty night
[CHORUS 1
Dark dank night
Not knowing when
not knowing what
Blind bat, bland bat
blank bat]
On electric pylons rested
she was persecuted, prostituted
they stalked her, sallied her
stoned her
in a dirty night
[CHORUS 1
Dark dank night
Not knowing when
not knowing what
Blind bat, bland bat
blank bat]
Sirens screeched, screamed
What are you ?! Who are you ?!
you simpleton sleazy bat
we will slice your wings
in a dirty night
[CHORUS 1
Dark dank night
Not knowing when
not knowing what
Blind bat, bland bat
blank bat]
THEN came beckoning
Bella, Bella, Bella !
abating abating
up on electric bars
a fast bat out of bell
out of bell
not batting a lid
singing batwing
snippets
[CHORUS 2
Velvet night, vortex night
knowing when, knowing what
bold belly bat !
bold belly bat ! ]
No fear she fluttered and flew
I’m flaunting soaring strange
no slicing webbed wings ordained
me no belittling blind
crazy as a dime
[CHORUS 2
Velvet night, vortex night
knowing when, knowing what
bold belly bat !
bold belly bat ! ]
A scavenger slunk away
sirens slipped into sewers
cities in distress
raised up their brows at
beckoning bats doing
a bogey woogy
doing a bogey woogy
a batty bogey woogy
[CHORUS 2
Velvet night, vortex night
knowing when, knowing what
bold belly bat !
bold belly bat ! ]
©GhairoDanielsPoetry
&Song2009
Alarming heart wrenching
(stabbing non-abating
with genuine appall
ling brutality) zing
across screen, or
in print exacerbating
forcing, imposing viewer,
and/or reader to revisit
atavistic primal past activating
21st century *****sapien
to experience (albeit vicariously)
quotidian tragic news,
which relentlessly doth wring
realistic sadness, sans psychic sting
eventually admitting figurative
(sic) kill your hammer
blows deaden public
emotional trust, thwarting
the ability to feel,
which subsequent empathy
decreases to abba
solute zero sensitivity,
whereat comfortable numbskull state
of mind turbo-charges,
quickens, and nudges
callousness, via onslaught of killings,
viz where plethora multi
media platforms air
(twenty four seven)
(far more horrible, reprehensible,
unconscionable, et cetera
egregious violence -
splashed across front page, which
grim stories lack shock value,
and with flying blood red
colors surpass fictionalized
made for television macabre
nuanced crime stories),
way beyond the outer limits
of the twilight zone of credulity
visa vis not even discoverable
tapping into the unimaginable realm,
where dirty deeds
done dirt cheap by
some contemptible person,
who contemplates (premeditates)
deliberately inflicting
maximum human suffering
which ignominious atrocity
(interestingly enough) affects
a portion of the
population to wring
hands, while unbeknownst
non relations (i.e. strangers) fling
arms around each other
such as yours
truly reckon eyes,
the existence power of consolation
despite the lack oven available antidote.
Who am I
to give Light's sway
to Earthly kindness?
Who am I
to praise
love's bold told synergy?
sun sung soprano
diva voiced
Through life's more challenged
LeftBrain capitalized energies
fearing dark base shunning
echoing not yet mind dead
predicting bare survival choice.
Yet choice
may here
and there be wrongly voiced
regarding numerous sins
without apparent othered victims
preferring to expand
win/win resilient
thriving to rejoice
is obviously more brilliant
Restoring justice
non-verbally unchoiced
sacred Whole Identity Systems
could become our mind repletely full
of fertile health solutions
reseen as wealthier
when just-right
choice
To avoid further trauma narratives
degenerating loss
losing fried-out markets
to support a regenerating win/win land
where 1 is not
not also 0 empty nonchoice
out to sea
In/out
Back/forth mindful
of timely voice
sung sapient and signed silent
inside thoughtful
Integrity's rejoice
For resiliently healthy
universally salvific
synergetic
win/win wealthy
making
Baking
up-shaking
frosting on the cake
remaking
Abating win-1 to lose-0
less than restoring resonant kindness
Yang and Yin's binomial rebalance
choice
When mindful with this quest
for who are We to give
Light's empowering sway
to Earth-compassioned
wealthy choice?
Of faith
We're all doing our therapeutic best
toward a trauma prevention Earth
easing off inside loathing diatribes
becoming Kindness Tribe
full-voiced
Curiously repeating
How do we already
give Light's empowering sway
to grow Earthy kindness?
To know
when our mindful care
leaves just enough time
to generously let go.