Long Besieged Poems
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After a hazardous trip from a far- off district,
With drooping spirits and waning energy,
I alighted at the station to catch the night train,
My heart besieged by memories of a home, left behind.
Like a drop in the ocean,
I quickly merged with the buzzing crowd.
In the blinking light of platform lamps,
I saw a huge crowd- the young and the old,
With baggage heaped on baggage
Patiently waiting for the arrival of the train.
Soon came the grating voice of the loudspeaker~
“The Rajadhani Express from Delhi to Trivandrum
Scheduled to leave the station by 9 pm
Would be late by one hour’!"
I went cold at the thought of another long wait.
In the sweltering heat of a summer night,
Amid an undulating mass and deafening holler and roar
It would be hell tied there for one more hour.
The cry of babies fell in my ears like the squeal of piglets
Some old women sat on haunches on the floor,
Before some homemade food and snacks,
Spread out on old newspapers and began munching.
Youngsters busied themselves on their cell phones,
Sending missives to their loved ones,
Or chatting with their pals.
I sat away secluded, inhaling the soot and the dust
And looking vacantly at the curl of smoke
From the grumpy looking man’s cigar,
Sitting opposite to me lazily.
When his red falcon eyes fell on me,
My inner voice told me to move away,
And instantly I walked into the ladies’ retiring room,
Regretting once more, being a woman!/em>
Our suffering merits the celestial, gentle waves bearing the message of love.
I venture not to fall sleep, and keep absorbing nature's enchanting spell, enough mourning in anguish, and revive!
"The old world keep unfolding in your soul, need a new garment." I pay generous attention to abnormalities. In my oceanside inn, nobody inquires about the pandemic, though they prefer to mingle with the seagulls than the crowd. Have we stemmed the tide of the plague at last? The patients go on dying, an obese lady brags she was healed, I sense a quiet uprising against the quarantine here, rich in confidence the hounds of pandemic have lost their tracks. We're thrown in this world for self-concealment. In all the hoaxes we use, paramount is our eternal hope, lost in its boundlessness. But, through my open window, the gentle waves loudly challenge us to new living, at night a meteor nurses the sky with its flame, an errant voyager from alien destinations. Sky remains the untouched domain, like a castle above calmly holding its own.
"A star's gaze, now that would be a sight," I murmur, let the thought boldly snatch the moment like a shrewd brigand.
"Who's profiting from this gruesome horror? And who's the wicked in the guise of benevolence?" Ah the aroma of beachside fire, and a tiny bird floating in the air, obviously pleased to hear the tongue of ocean splattering on the rocks. The moon's sacred dim rays add to the cozy aura, nimbly moving into darkness. I'm expecting to run into a survivor of Poseidon adventure tonight. A timeless flood of images and then the question: What do you make of survival? An irkesome sport, imagining it was worthwhile. Death is at our back, its treacherous stratagem is to frown at its intrusion, has this scent of never approaching too near before its time. But I have built an impregnable bastion, a lion's citadal, that will never succumb. And don't give me the baloney of illusion. A man has the right to deceive himself. Stubbornly besieged by sleep, I surrend to the Queen of Comfort and its stately limitless inner, infernal ocean. "Save yourself in dreams."
Beset with uncertainties of the future
hurling “what-ifs” intensifying gloomy woes…
…tortured minds grieve in affliction’s turmoil
fearing tomorrow’s insecurity-despair
longing to be shielded
inside God’s fortress of truth's assurance
against invading skepticism and doubt.
Besieged by enigmas of life’s realities…
…apprehended souls struggle, confronted wearily
against survival crises while seeking for assuaging answers
to combat fears and miseries’ distress
seeking to be enclosed around Christ’s care
away from sham's projection, hypocrisy-roofed
pegged upon deceits’ stakes.
Beseeching the Sovereign Lord
Who welcomes everyone with bliss
in His fellowship’s haven…
…we who trust Him are offered ready refuge
upholding our faith toward faithful stewardship
as we, by His assured protection, conquer desolation’s attacks
lurking under the shade of agonizing solitude.
Blessed to reach-out
with the spirit of servanthood...
…we who are graciously pardoned by the mercy* of the Saviour
verily acquitted from sin-condemnation’s verdict
likewise grateful that He draws us nigh His heart
can now reach out to the needy, thirsty for His jubilant compassion
and help them be extricated from pale shelter of apathy fetters.
*Psalm 86:5 For thou, Lord, art good, and ready to forgive; and plenteous in mercy unto all them that call upon thee.
November 13, 2019
2nd place, "Pale Shelter" Free Verse Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton; judged on 12/7/2019.
A Memorial Day Commemorate
The sights of the stars and stripes,
Invoke in me a sensation of pride,
When I hear The Star Spangled Banner,
I’m besieged with chills running up and down my spine.
Because they represent the justice and freedom,
All Americans have come to enjoy,
But sadly, sometimes it’s at the expense,
Of the lives of someone’s little girl or young boy.
These brave Americans chose to serve,
But, unfortunately, not all will survive,
To revel in the accolades they so well deserve.
That’s why, on the last day in May,
We celebrate and pray;
Lord, please comfort the souls of our fallen heroes,
And God, bless our beloved U.S.A.
An infinitesimal slight speck tickled
nostril follicle – activated via an itty
bitty, nitty gritty dirt band noah bigger
than a mole luck yule set in motion a
chain reaction, whence mine sensitive
proboscis honker (wheeze - hilly little
bridged fine tuned pug nose aroma
sensor), got unexpectedly in gauged
(in holy matt trim mo’ knee) to achew,
and eschew pledging troth (in favor of
hanky-panky) found this chap feeling
phlegmatic because an endless string
of faux allergic emanations, which
upon subsiding left me throat rather
raspy and voice some octaves deeper
akin to a coterie of celebrated jumping
frogs from Calaveras County, California
took residence and refused leaving
stranglehold upon math rote upon
awakening from a hard day’s journey
into night across the outer limits
of thine twilight zone resurrected
during slumber, yet upon awakening
felt much refreshed and hungry enough
to eat a horse – nee – make that forced
whore – gulped down within a hoof
n hour and now recount how back in
the day when zooming thru the Lilies
of the Valley (whooshing mass elf tubby
an aeroplane) frequent bouts with uber
twittering snapchatting sinus attacks
besieged crinkled, doppelganger expeller
for germs hunting with his clean X
instantaneously for nasal passages
to enter surreptitiously the fecund
effluvia dripping, oozing, and seeping
clear liquid as wintry cold air looses
droplets from out a near frozen nose,
which bloke knows not why frigid blast
stimulates gallimaufry of sniffling
to spurt into a volume of one after
another gesundheit donning, snorting
trumpeting unwittingly confusing
Canadian geese, who misconstrue
the honking from midway centered
facial organ, which angry birds
in tandem with flock of Seagulls
quite perturbed to espy one curmudgeon
chap clapping hands over (what feels
like Smashing Pumpkins on face)
in an effort to stifle subsequent gummy
emissions, which residue expectorated
with heave hoe shove
schnoz el tov blowing into snot-rag.
Anything you do
is like what you’ve done
Anything you find
is like what you’ve found
Anything you say
is like what you’ve said
Anything you dream
is like what you’ve dreamt
Wherever you roam
forever afar
Whatever you say
forever you are
Wherever you look
forever you see
Whatever you pledge
forever you mean
If ever you wander
the world at your feet
If ever you daydream
the world is complete
If ever you dance
the world is your stage
If ever you write
the world is your page
Whenever you ask
the questions reseed
Whenever you reach
the distance besieged
Whenever you wish
the future at dawn
Whenever you love
— the darkness is gone
(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)
Saddle up! Saddle up! It time to go.
I heard the Sergeant’s call
I held by rifle against my chest,
And vowed to give my all
It’s time the Sergeant said, move out
Let put your boots on the ground
For God, Corps and Country,
I took a solemn oath, I’m duty bound
To the landing zone I gladly went
Then the day slowly began to wane
I picked up my ammo and weapon,
Not a word did I complain
Suddenly, I heard high in the sky
The gunships thundering roar,
I watched with great anticipation
Then felt my pulse begin to soar
Six Huey Cobra gunships suddenly
Bursting forth from the sky
It was my ride to to camp Khe Sanh
Where many marines live and die
Towards the besieged compound
Without a word we went
Their engine roaring louder,
The gunships pilots refusing to relent
When I arrived on the battlefield,
I stepped out and pensively planted my feet
I looked around at my surroundings
The pestilence of war their I meet
From inward fears beyond passion’s pledge
In their hands they held my fate
And of this mortal enemy
Their rockets would not abate
Then I heard the sergeant shouting
I wished the rocket had gone awry
While in this dreary existence
I turned to God and sought a reason why
I dove into my sand bag bunker, I didn’t’ hesitate
I felt my heart beat strong in a bunker in Khe Sanh
And when the sun rises heralding a new day
I’ll strain all my senses, look and ponder long
I never meant to linger, only thirteen months I’ll stay
For strong is the life of which I intend to save
As the North Vietnamese Army surrounds us
Their intent obvious, to put me in a grave
Remember...Remain Calm, Collected, And Cool...
Matthew Scott Harris...ARG
This, a near imp
possible mantra to apply
when this 2009
Macbook Pro went awry
triggering this enduser
to experience tidal waves of high
anxiety, which besieged this fie
foo fighting dirt po' pa well nigh,
who might need buy
another laptop, yet my
anorexic checking account
on life support, no lie
could not afford, (to sigh
phone even one red cent,
all because ordinary healthy
electrons deployed aye
did NOT see usual expected
predictable apple luck
quiche hun activity via my
left and right eye,
yours truly did not espy
usual kickstarting linkedin magic after
preliminary electronic setup
unexpectedly failed to start -
no idea why
unbeknownst tummy, what
ghost in the machine didst defy
programming code of honor,
whereby pixel display
unexpectedly exhibited "abnormal"
computer behavior -
like a turncoat ally
meaning one hoop wrest
illegally start button signaling
subatomic warfare unleashing - guy
did missiles as taught
during routine training
to turn bot tin down stevedores
loose on the Jobs (dan-g) rather, I
watched slack jawed,
as that very singularly narrow
vertical lined band width
(analogous to a medium black
sabbath tipped magic marker)
did NOT display
prestidigitation instantaneous flash
demarcating binary DMZ
(demon mailer zone,
viz dividing screen in half, -
versus top to bottom array), qua
incomplete automatic
initialization stopped
partway thru automatic preparation,
after which cryptic
error message appeared,
which malfunction found me
bursting with damned tears,
and ready to cry,
(which gush of tear
rivalled Hurricane Florence),
cuz mechanical and/or
application so much
of my creative
write minded person
(reed literary) self choked life vie
ability to live, thus the only alternative
...insane asylum to apply!
--------------------------------
SPOILER ALERT...
postscript: after some fluke brought
desk top in view, the quick thinking
chap attached an external drive to a
USB port, and thus breathed easier
knowing a backup got made.
Written: August 17, 2025, for contest sponsored by: Rob Carmack - Placed 2nd in the contest
Quote“Let there be no boundaries. When you lose all sense of self, the bonds of a thousand chains will vanish. Lose yourself completely, return to the root of the root of your own soul” - By Rumi
***********
I sipped from the calyx of core delight,
a dusky elixir steeped in dopamine’s
effervescent whisper—
and the world, erstwhile mundane,
became a chatoyant tapestry
of evanescent truths.
The walls sighed slightly.
Not in the metaphor arena—
They throbbed, aquiver,
With a sapphire auric touch,
each brick is a doppelgänger.
of some long-lost self.
My limbs, once velvety,
turned to lissome vines
waltzing through the horizon
of lush lagoon reverie.
I was hungry for meaning.
but found it a chorus of voices,
amorphous, shapeless,
a palimpsest of pastiche and prophecy.
Time fractured—
a pavonine shimmering
spilled across the sphere of memory.
I beheld my joy,
blithely besieged
by the clamor of disorder,
and still, it twirled.
with emulous passion
in the cottage of my marrow.
Epiphany hard-won
not as a blaring trumpet,
but as an aphonic balm—
a murmurous susurrus
in the riparian streams
of my noetic flesh
I was not ontic, but rather an iconoclast.
I was both an iconoclast and dear.
both amort and zoetic,
a rubicund speck
in the celestial glow
The collective noosphere surrounds it.
The mind—
that winding maze—
offered no panacea,
only a twist of insight
and its evanescent brightness.
I beheld my nemesis.
in the mirror’s moiety:
a charming crone,
disheveled and tenderly smiling,
Her gaze was soft with weariness.
Her voice was gentle and silent.
And I understood—
Awareness is winnowing.
a desultory dalliance
with the unutterable.
To behold is to dissemble.
To feel is to effloresce.
I emerged.
not healed,
but imbued—
a scintilla of the sumptuous,
a fleeting felicity
in the halcyon hush
of the waking world.
In my melancholic turmoil moments besieged with pain
As I groan along mocking injustice terrain
Languishing in misery brought by deceit of betrayal stain
Sorrowing* midst righteous verdict I hope to gain…
My God offers to me His grace, never vain.
I draw near to Him, placing my life into His mercy’s domain.
In my melancholic turbulent days against guiltiness’ cohort
When I cry for divine aid and support
Excruciating from my downfall’s discomfort
Wailing due to my worldliness and its carnality-haunting escort …
My Saviour pours His mercy for my ultimate resort.
I draw nigh to Him, laying my faith upon His strength’s fort.
In my melancholic troubled times of grievous despair
That I need urgent care
Beseeching for an assured welfare
Ailing with discontentment’s scare…
My Lord presents His promises which His words declare.
I abide in Him, exposing my soul to His victorious stare.
*"Sorrow is better than laughter: for by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better." Ecclesiastes 7:3
July 21, 2019
5th place, "Writing Challenge 2, July 2019- Melancholy" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart; judged on 7/23/2019.