Long Enviable Poems
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I’m glad to hear that your meditation practice gives you the means to define your sense of purpose in life. That is an enviable state of affairs. My own charter would be less ambiguous and my agenda more coherent had I certainty regarding the disposition of such matters.
It seems to me my sand has nearly run out; the frontier is closed and I don't do reservations. You'll never know whatever became of me. You'll think about it once or twice, then forget I ever existed. Till one day you'll come across something that brings me to mind and you'll hurt to imagine lost might-have-beens.
Like 24 karat gold, my kind of purity makes me too soft to be of much use in any practical sense. That's my problem. As a result, I have cultivated an outer shell that is hard and crusty. I think it might crack soon. I don't want anyone to be around when it does. The mystery of existence will continue to puzzle me, but I’ll not accept institutional dogma as answer to the question of why I’m here. A little dogma creates a big stink.
As a result, I make it a point to always go out of my way to avoid stepping in it whenever I choose to take a stroll. There is no truth, but that which one chooses to believe. Any other notion is childish speculation. Oh, and I am sorry about the time I told you have a fat ass. I didn’t really mean it the way it came out. What I meant to say is – you have a fat ego. But that didn’t sound angry enough. And I was very angry.
The wind I asked,
A message of my love for you to carry
And with its sweet breeze, I begged, the softest of
Kisses on your enviable lips from me to place,
A reminder to you that
Your presence I miss, your love and
Your affection
While dreaming of your blessed
Return.
The wind,
Eager to please,
Opened its lofty wigs and flew to all
Directions,
Searching for you everywhere, my urgent
Message to deliver
The time passed,
Waiting became unbearable as hours, days and months,
Declined to advance
So
Autumn wind brought no reply
Neither did that of winter’s or that
Of spring’s
Then
The summer came and with it, the
Long-awaited wind, finally, arrived
But
The breeze I had once sent, unrecognizable, had
Now returned:
A howling hurricane
For
You, my love, had my kiss
Rejected!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
19 SEPTEMBER 2014
Since the day that I first left
Looking back,
Through different windows
Knowing there will be reft
I am for what I am, and I'll be
I am for what I am, you'll see
I found it hard to explain
The actions of our cause
Highlanders against the Lowlanders
Simply because
I am for what I am, and I'll be
I am for what I am, you'll see
The answers and reactions
To which they promptly, replied
Trust and honour abounds
And pity those who lied
I am for what I am, and I'll be
I am for what I am, you'll see
I'm now in an enviable position
To look back on my ancestors so
I'm Scottish, the son of Kane
From my days so long ago
I am for what I am, and I'll be
I am for what I am, you'll see
My name is semaj, The Highlander
I've come back from your future so
To an earth in rutted grief
And allow your tomorrow flow
I am for what I am, and I'll be
I am for what I am, you'll see
All Nations should be accounted
North and South Hemispheres
To allow you to continue
Allay our space age fears
I am for what I am, and I'll be
I am for what I am, you'll see
It's the reason I have returned
To Scourie is where it started
Your future wormhole lies
For me, it's where I departed
I am for what I am, and I'll be
I am for what I am, you'll see
We can only take,
The ones who'll live so free!
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy.php
Forever in my mind, you’re the right one who reminds me
Of the light, you’re the righteous kind of sunlight.
If you appreciate what I feel inside
There’s really no need to hide your mind from mine.
I continue to speak of great heights, Heaven’s gates, the Finch’s fate
Those heights in my mind are inside the night sky
When the Finch gets old, he’ll know that by flying high, we can make the soul rise
How precious one holds the part of the golden heart that’s forever bold
At the high gates where the Sun emanates.
So, where should we bear the fairest feathers
Where must I share my barest feelings, out there
In the clouds where the shroud covers my mouth
Out of respect for one ounce of the Finch’s doubt
Happiness heals the deepest parts of my mind, which were blind
Where the mightiness starts to depart for the complex parts
Dedicate yourself, we are the same, even with different names
We play the same games; we are the rangers, facing the same dangers;
Thereby, I give you my name.
No one can take your place when you are the greatest
Nourished by the forest’s rain, all the same, we can play this game
You and I are the same in this race, at the center of the plain.
No hate, only caring to fly to high, to golden gates
At the same rate.
I hope you’ll appreciate the love chant we can say
I hope you’ll appreciate the games we can delay
I hope you’ll appreciate the greatness of each play
In my mind, so exacerbated, so alleviated, so concentrated.
If only the Theatre could give you branches,
Those visions that are enviable,
And lift the Finch up on treetops, above the bugs,
Keeping him uplifted, lovable, and huggable.
Oh, how erred
the impressions of a life can be ...
we humans, with our lofty views of acumen,
pride ourselves on distinguishing a creature's habits
by merely appraising its footmarks in the sand.
And yet we fail to estimate the full relevance
of the imprints WE leave behind,
and what may be assumed by them,
right or wrong or indifferent.
Looking back, I try to focus on a pattern -
My prints in the muck ...
the only true wisdom gleaned
from an irreverent, sullied journey, is this:
such an existence,
while oft' feigning the emblems
Of mystery, adventure, and passion -
while sometimes gaining a wisdom of the dark
that only a burning ardor for the eventide can accord -
and while flesh and marrow may come to savor
the sublime anguish of extremes -
Such a life is NOT romantic,
or charming,
or even enviable ...
whatever bleeding typewriters may say
to the contrary.
~ Honorable Mention ~ in the "Strand Select K Any Form Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
White Supercilium, black face mask,
White collar,
Dark buff head with Black central stripe,
Dark gray stout bill,
Gray eye-ring with white awake – eyeliner,
Buff crowned,
Glossy blue, dark green, Turquoise-Blue,
Shocking white wing-coverts,
Thin black trace, garish scarlet Underbelly,
Black blue-tipped tail,
Toned, endless, enviable strong pins
pink
Divine ensemble apt for
Wallpapers, earrings, motifs, art, stamps and study
They sit shy, inconspicuous, in
Leftover dense forest
Mad for being naive in
Sartorial world, they keep
Picking up worms under leaf-litter
On forest floor, autumn always
Secretive Monomorphics
Complain to Sun
Once at dawn, once at dusk,
risks
To migrate preferably at night
Opulent pair dances to mate
Nests to breed, care their chicks,
Teach their fledglings to hide and play
Along predators’ plenty,
Teach their fledglings along
Stressful achromatic life,
to fly away
On this landmark an image stands...
statue of a man.
Man of honor and talent,
admiration of any man.
Born with great love for country
Died with one heart of chivalry.
Studied in different schools,
aced all subjects in drools.
A man gifted with excellence.
Shared great works in pickets,
Cured many patients without wickets.
A man of great stature,
No man may be able to equalize.
A man of great sorrow,
Sacrificed himself for tomorrow.
Fellowmen freed to visualize.
So much more can be said
About a man of enviable skills
Young and old have all laid
Heroism of a small man...
Bigger, higher than hills.
Curious hands took delicated folded sky lantern,
"Be careful you don't tear or rip me," it said.
"Cause I'm the one that gives wings to your hope.
I'll embrace the sky's beauty more and make it glow,
With my charming warm light, I'll flow.
I can banish anxiety and mesmerize those who are sad,
I can never be harmful; I can never be bad.
Gleeful eyes gazed at the enviable warm light,
The poor girl who dreamt about it,
But couldn't give her hope and wish such flight.
The flame was fading and slowly losing its height,
Its pride was falling too, but the sky was still bright.
Unknowingly, it landed at that girl's house,
Where all her hopes of income were alive.
Hay and the stored crops caught fire,
Her father cried a lot and the crowd gathered.
The girl didn't want to see that thing ever,
The harmful lantern burnt with her hopes forever.
After mid morning coffee
will stretch out to the store
My piano to fetch
spread my fingers by a fine degree
You're invited to bow a little
for today all honour must go to the birds
It will be a melody of gratitude
to the aves given us by heaven
For their everlasting beauty upon earth
Upon the inspiration of blooming flowers
Birds take to the skies in radiant plumes
bejeweling the everyday dome with enviable
patterns, copied from millions of miles away
So here I hit the beats of beauty for the birds
to complement the fine melody of a bird-song
that invites daybreak and adorns dusk
like fine wine up the hills, making man suffer loss
why was such beauty not given him?
Bringing tidings of peace from your world O birds
whenever man gets crazy wanting to own your world
of colourful fruits, sweet grains and plumes of pride
You hover over his head, looking up, sees his folly,
Repents
Long curved beaks,short bills,sharp, obtuse
and your blessed fore limbs,
the sails for your voyage
across oceans and lands
All you will ever need
You know how lucky you are!
You love it, I sing it
Echo my tune like the baobab
Will you?
This got to be a melody of kind wishes
for all the birds of skies and seas
A site of nature’s appreciation
in wildlife and physical geographic beauty
blessed with a set of spoken identity
having over a hundred and twenty limbs
of which the Bantu stretches the longest of them all.
It is the creator’s Museum of human history;
its song of natural pride and general patriotism
is unbelievably shared with two of its neighbours
as its existence feeds on a unifying regional government.
Habitat to the globe’s largest and most delicious crab,
preserving the world’s largest and intact volcanic caldera,
a site for its continent’s highest and lowest points
and the continent’s largest and deepest lakes.
A major African contributor to the allied forces of world war two
and prides in the most expensive hardwood in the world.
With such a wealthy history and enviable reputation,
its still stuck in the major challenge weighing on the dark continent.