Long Cacophonies Poems
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Filtering through the empty broken balconies along the rivieras
are the waning cacophonies echoing monotonous songs,
“Merciless they are to us at the breaking of dawn”
Where life once thrived, we arrived in the city called the strip,
an open-air prison, an amphitheater without any spectators
insight, although the world is watching
We trudge onto yet another camp
The sun brings nothing, not anything more than light
that shines upon a smokey sky
I see more of nothingness, space, void, rubble
Everything is foreign and everyone has changed
All are cold, scared, and hungry, we walk aimlessly
In the hands of anyone unknowing if he or she's sane
There is so much fear, I am no longer safe
A new reality has come upon me
To the smell of death should I adapt?
A new day has dawned, morning has broken
Echoes pick up murmurs of others tears long spent
sifting through these ruins where I hide
Unattended unattached, no time for a sigh,
cry, or yawn, I am zombie like
The unrest of the last night has begun again
The recent blood red scenes now past
Yesterday's echoes filter one more reality
Will it be me today?
A thousand drummers playing drums
within my head,
like firecrackers bursting,
Rivers of (whatever) oozing out,
Trickling eyes, prickling nose,
Snee..achoo!..zing...and sneezing...and sneezing!
Every muscle aches,
Feeling fatigued and flushed,
Puffy eyes, stuffy nose,
Bouts of throaty cacophonies come out uninvoked ,
Body sore, mood sourer..
Even the bed seems uncomfortable,
Pain deludes, sleep eludes (snuffle!)
Inflamed glands fight ill-famed flu,
Tasteless food, faceless foe, endless distress,
Don't come near! This is contagious!
Life is drear, this is outrageous!
Eyes flowing, nose-blowing!
And I feel like...
Chasing this flu away.
9th Feb 2023
For Charles Messina's "I felt like" contest
Bubbling babbling burbling banter from the bar..
Sup hush….memory lane trip...Proustian rush..pleasingly tickled.
Plushly ebbed…spidery beer swirls webbed…lace whirls..grace dimpled dappled jar..
Perch...parched pagans besmirch..sip...druid fluid drip..Iris’s secular church..
Venerate yesteryear dips…commemorate Faustian fillips....teasingly pickled..
Smug treacle toned thatch rugs hugs sturdy slabs.. shrugs..
Tugs tussling tree torn trusses and trestles....
Trumpets tradition.. crisp crumpets in flames..sedition flickering..
Like sassy strumpets calling each other names…playfully bickering..
Remember the surreal cast….gayfully ethereal echoes..
Beacons blush in the embers of the past..
Classy pubs dripping with polished pewter.. parochial paraphernalia…ballsy brass...
Crepuscular charms. splinters splicing smokey shadows..
Wafting whispers.. across tobacco tinted tainted times..
Whistles whetted..quaffing…quenching ...cavorting with crannies..
Carousing with nooks naked in timber flannelled panels..
Canoodling on fecund bulbous bales farm foraged.. freshly fashioned...
Flirtatious follicle flicks....gurgling guffaws, raffish rascals' whisky whimsy..
Courting curious covens..sporting prosecco cackle cacophonies.
As sons become dad..in turn perched with their lad..
Lady lawyer betwixt a pimpled tyro…local employer, bumpkin on the giro..
Museums of marvels.. hoodwink misplaced metaphors..
Laced with a house pour of moreish memories of before..
That without impunity the nub of a pub..
The bar.. a community hubbub hub..
Gracious Landladies…loquacious Landlords..
Sagacious stars...near and far..
We raise our jar.
For our home from home..
A public house..
Ta..
deck is stacked with black cats
hungry and forlorn
pressing in
bolts of thunder -
blinded with cacophonies
the ace of spades -
fear, bad luck, hatred, war
worry lines, frowns, battle torn
coal, night, pitch -
the starry night, disoriented
lost in oblivion
newgate’s knocker -
prison bars, color drained
from countenance, no kiss
in the abyss
midnight, a dog’s guts -
no clouds, moonless, open
to the elements
the iron cast - seasoned
to death
ebonic plague -
a poet’s drowning in ink
&
someone’s lighting a fire
under
the chimney sweep
8/3/2022
a resilient soul
hoists his drooping wings
dreary but dreamy
soars far
so high
he keeps on searching for his illusive dreams
regardless of the storm and height of mountains
goes through miles away
in his equanimity
straight with vision of sunrays
on plight are failures
not too bad
tries again
the mighty swords in his heart
so much patience and love help him to survive
in every vicissitude and kinks of his life
oftentimes
we can get the melody of what we want
if we allow the cacophonies to come
Dec. 5, 2012
Form: Suzette Prime
First Place
Contest: Suzette Prime: Prime Numbers and Philosophy
Judged: 12/14/2012
Poet Sponsor: Suzette Crous
Far away from our little village
In the middle of green paddy field
On the small mound the banyan tree was
Beneath calm and sweet shadow of green leaves
On the lap of this old giant tree
You and I were only there for our twin loving soul
Strangler figs were spreading all around of us
Flock of sparrows and tailor-birds were came to play with figs
Through the chirping and far loving speech of flute
My head was on your lovely lap
You cared my black silky hair by your soft finger
You drew fingers line on my face
Your lips penned best graph on my lips
My nose smelled fragrance of jasmine, tuberose, gardenia from you
And now
In this house you and I are alone
Balcony touches the green leaves of coconut tree
No parrots, no nightingales, no sparrows are around of us
Cacophonies of crows make us tired
My bald head is on your lovely lap
Now your old loving fingers care my white beard
Although no hair of juvenescent
The head and shrunk face still get your love
Kiss comes with tears of old age
As if we live as cast away dove
-October 22, 2018 Chattogram
////
written on the sense of my old grandparents
Noise in her Mind
I know her so well she came long ago to visit my being
we share beauty and bedlam boudoir and kindest of spirits
She walks like a cat woman hears like a bat feeds birds
quietly she soothes thunder’s volcano howls with the wolves
Klimt’s Kiss Vermeer’s Girl With Pearl Earring Botticelli’s Venus Degas’s
Dancer In Repose Fedro’s Much Better With Age she
absorbs pastel and paint strokes symphonies on canvas
so many facets big bangs and roaring giggling convulsions
Sometimes Woman Laughing from Goya’s dark paintings
a Broken Column like Kahlo’s when some Munch’s Scream
invades and infests silence deep inside her beautiful scull
Voices shout from profuse directions focus condense and
refract confront tease torment disagree and interfere with
calm serene serenades when a few notes tender chords
and accord vanish into cacophonies misleading the song
I know her so well admire her resilience and how she copes
with the noise the disruption and the ballet of so many
different views pandemonious clangour onslaught of turmoil
as she appears calm on the surface orchestrates quiet composure
How she holds it all together I cannot really fathom with all that
jumbling distance so close and yet so far from my innocent mind
My Venus Of Milo has taught me so much most of it all and over
above that imperfection is a wonderful gift and very complete
When the ocean swells the boat of life shreds shoddy anchor line
I put to words from pen and keyboard what matters most in time
and seek a buoy a float some flotsam dejected towards the storm
then hope for tides for rudder oars and compass worn and torn
Cannot want not pretend the sails are healthy all is mighty fine
attempt to find refuge shelter calmer waters in poetry and rhyme
listen to the climate forecast watch the stars that seem forlorn
seek charts and words’ expression transposing dusk to dawn
The waves and swelling torrents thunder remain whatever spell
fills sadness metaphors lost rhythm alliterations sent from hell
The weather remains whether or not I scribe my melody and tune
cacophonies or lonely harmony despondence hewn and strewn
In sink or out of kilter self soothing or shouting angrily is what I got
some scribbles join some dots to pointed hooks not to loose the plot
Apocalypse may find its way or not when Armageddon calls seduction
yet poetry verse narrative or stories fend of that teasing deadly suction
The worldly whirlpool will not succumb or surface because I put on paper
destruction mindless soul depression timid aspirations hopes or vapour
when steam cannot be rescued the pit and bottom loom away from shore
But writing keeps me just above the water line and I cannot really ask for
MORE
..............Baby Steps Out..
..........There's a waiting world
.......Doctors nurses eager staff
......A doting father, mother in pain
.....It is said that we chose our birth
....An act of free will, desired destiny
....The paths are all charted by our will
....This birthday I decided to recall..loll
......A memory jog, back to time of birth
.........An unborn peeping into his future
..............The little steps on roads ahead
.................Unfolding destiny milestones
.....................Cherished moments in wait
.....................Some vivid some smudged
.....................Hand drawn on masterprint
..................Paths to travel people to meet
................The resting places n thirst stops
...............Careful leaps on stepping stones
...........The journeys that were yet to unfold
.........All vivid in storehouse before take-off
.....In the sojourn I was told: Precious is birth
...In baby steps or our giant strides a purpose
.The joys or sufferings are like passing screens
There is an axis a polestar guiding & connecting
A constant the unchanging in all that is changing
Distracted get our senses by colors cacophonies
.Not difficult to lose the picture in such a journey
...Precious is birth- holds many a promise....es ....
......like many seeds...finding ground.. ..yes !!
.........pods germinate ..stored... ..loved ..
...............friends near far ...unmet :)
......................thank you.....<3.....
.................................Fam ....frnds
.........................................................for remembering
.............................................................flowing wishes
Spring things arrive, assaulting eyes unused;
Hollowed by a winter grey, whitened paint infused.
Bleeding sudden kaleidoscopes to landscapes,
Cacophonies of endless greetings, drowning pain
As nature comes with energies and hunger once again.
Along a garden wall in shades of many trees
Where grasses lean to show the shallows,
left by bended knees,
Winter mourns the missing; finding solace spring allows.
Into the blossoms of her bosoms’ bounty boughs.
Each year, the trees and grasses form a springtime here.
Shadows burst to life inserting wisdom to our trowels,
Flagstones, Breadcrumbs,
Streaks of dappled sun through arbor boughs.
Clouds of every nation’s hue, the garden wall allows.
Beneath the trees, along this wall,
Where mother earth colludes with all
To waken us again to waiting lives.
Where we will walk in morning light,
And say goodbye to Winter’s night.
Follow footsteps west, to trace the sun,
Feeling radiance shine on us as daylight meets us there.
Each mornings’ border brings a new frontier.
Where things are quiet, unborn yet of fear.
Finishings are left; beginnings yet to be.
New is all there is for us to see.
Eyes search skies of azure blue,
Ears detecting every clue.
Hearts wait here for birth of love,
A comfort known by few.
Upon a log with gnarled burls of hardened skin
We find a resting bench,
With green moss tablecloths
Grown from the earth
In its slow-moving wisdom,
This tree laid down its life centuries ago,
Knowing one day we would come,
To sit upon its broad back and learn that faith
Is sharing life through patience and sacrifice.
Nearby, the ocean waves create a spray
That towers over all, providing raindrops
Sent to splash upon the garden wall.
As dew drops form on maple leaves; so small.
Although each soul is born to different bendings,
Spring shall lend itself to form a call
New beginnings, giving birth to endings
That one day beckon every drop
To somehow find its fall.