Long Evening Poems
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I feel a sudden stiffness in my chest, I have not been running but I am almost out of breath, I stood for seventeen hours in the corner trying to put things in order but the drill across the street keep disrupting my heart beat and the humming bird around the corner keeps scattering the garbage in the street and singing to a musical irony.
I am not used to doing formal exercise but sometimes I go all the way through the painful sacrifice, with my hands on my hip and my foot on the bar, I do exercise that makes me feel tall.
The mornings are grey when my heart is leaning the other way, I wish I had company to exchange a word or two, when I do the pushups , weight lifting and a couple miles on the treadmill.
I love doing aerobic exercise, instead of taking diet pills and drinking green juice, I just love to burn the sweat and stretch and fill my lungs with fresh hear.
See them laying on the floor over there, everyone in their own space, they are rolling from left to right and the body is putting up a terrible fight.
“You have got to shed five pounds”, he said, or I will roll you out of my bed, I will be the director and I want you all to do some frantic move, by the end of the week you will jumping on your feet.
You will wear bikini on the beach and you will ride bicycle through the street and tell the people that you have lost five pounds. You will give them a flyer to join the class and you will start your own business at last.
I cannot feel the stiffness anymore; it has disappeared on the dance floor; I work out mornings and evening and at nights I usually take a swim.
My gym is in my basement and I have emptied the diet pill in the toilet, I feel much happier when I sing, I lose more weight when I stand up straight.
I have to get my mind and body in harmony and my spirit to balance it.
I love working out on the gymnastic bar with that graceful poise and when the instructor comes along, she plays the music of the wild swan.
The stiffness is gone and I feel comfortable in my body.
The ribbon is cut
The die is cast
The cement is dry
Yet nothing lasts
The brazen rewarded
The hero a fool
All reason outdated
New fury the tool
A journey presented
Your ship to go far
With doldrums eclipsed
By the light of new stars
The lands will seem foreign
The people most strange
But they’ll smile as you pass
And call you by name
You run and you run
And you run from it all
With no map to guide you
The albatross calls
And then sweet intention
Returns from respite
Rephrasing the unmentioned
Where maybe you might
In fear of the tonic
All healing disdained
Right, left-side disjointed
The cork from the drain
The covers pull back
Your bones are now bare
The tiller is slack
And there’s nobody there
So you take to the helm
Hands firmly in place
And you care not a whit
If it’s all empty space
As a raven is perched
On the yardarm so high
A land bird that lurches
Cawing all truth a lie
And you wonder then maybe
Have you wandered too far
As you ladle the future
From a long empty jar
The wind starts to move
A gift from the moon
What’s whole has been halved
And the sun almost noon
The rigging is creaking
The mast ever tall
The wind has died down
With no new ports of call
The feeling still burns
In the fire within
To find that one thing
That unfound—to you sings
The ocean is flat
The seas become calm
The seasons repeat
From reflection embalmed
The night sky is clearest
The darkest the days
The winds have escaped you
Adrift you now stay
But then just a wisp
Of a breeze on your cheek
Portends of a magic
And the vision you seek
It strengthens and gushes
Throughout all the night
As the red sky last evening
Had hinted it might
As the headsails go up
The big linen comes down
And you climb up the mast
Stepping over a frown
The creak of the lapstrake
Splashes over the bow
The present’s in sight
Incarnate right now
You look down on a lifetime
In this moment of joy
As the smell of the brine
Covers anything coy
And an Island approaches
From the mist up ahead
As the stillness reproaches
And retreats to its bed
The wonder returns
All speculation begins
Of the magic you’ll find
In this newness again
At the top of a mountain
Strange trees then appear
In a shape that’s uncertain
Neither familiar nor clear
(continued in part two)
A habitation hanging on a pole of love
circled by an orbit
of calm and tenderness.
Unto its walls;
purity and goodwill stick.
Floats on water and edged by the mountains
architectured by exotic plants.
Colour and beauty
mixed with the interplay of nature
as both the living and the inanimate
interact in ordered pattern and harmony
A place where time
has no definition
as so many todays
make up centuries
with nothing like yesterday or tomorrow.
It rains water in the morning
and in the evening, milk
with satisfaction and strength
the content of every marrow.
Everlasting joy;
you need not seek.
Bountiful kindness,
enjoyed even by a shadow.
Beautiful gardens and animals in diversity
forming a clique
as even the Lion's breast
becomes a succulent pillow.
Every being that breath becomes meek.
Unending peace
clinging unto you
like a lonely widow.
All in one simple existence
hardly to believe.
Is it the socialite and the geek?
Or the Eagle in dialogue
with the sparrow?
Are all rare happenings never to let go.
A land void of unpleasant states
where you can neither
find the weak nor the sick.
Equality and happiness is its constitution
with no one down graded to a minnow.
A site full of exactness and perfection,
a serenity edifying and accurate,
an atmosphere so complete and hundred percent.
Where in the world would this place be?
If not in my dream.
The long, long night
Is winding down
From distant rooms
I hear the sound
Of fine old friends
Taking leave
The evening ends
And I believe
The time to follow draws ever near
My heart is tired, my mind is clear.
The shining lights
Are fading out,
The dawn lies weak
On the walls without
The voices drift
And steal away
As we search for deeper
Things to say
The sands keep flowing from the glass
As present lives become the past.
- And we all grow old
- As the Earth spins around
- As we hold to the love
- By which we all are bound.
I don't want to leave the party
It's always been such fun
Through all the years and tears and fears
It's like it's only just begun.
I don't want to leave the party
But I'll go, with all my friends.
Who knows what waits outside the door
When the magic of our living ends?
The hand that holds
Your glass of wine
Is cracked and aged
As much as mine
The shadows of
Our memories
Are lengthening
Into the seas
Of onward flowing history,
The days once shared by you and me.
The love that lit
Ten thousand nights
Is still alive
And burning bright.
The time we spent
On sharing dreams
Is further now,
Or so it seems.
The lives we built we can't forget,
And no one wants to leave just yet.
- And we all grow old
- As the Earth spins around
- As we hold to the love
- To which we all are bound.
I don't want to leave the party,
We're all having too much fun.
Yet while smiling we'll still disappear
Now that the play is closed and done.
I don't want to leave the party,
But I'll go, with all my friends
Who knows what's waiting just outside
When the spell of living softly ends?
evening constellation show was totally tight
not quite contrived, but amazingly bright
the stars were blazing, beautiful white
Kansas crescent moon was gorgeously light
spacemen were in a bit of an Earthly plight
ominous feeling ever since today’s twilight
spaceship was enduring its eightieth flight
amazing sight in the sky, this October night
aliens experienced a bit of an unexpected fright
caught in the beam of a larger space craft’s light
their headlights flashing colors like a giant flashlight
Let’s get off of this planet yelled the first mate McMight
So, they zoomed off into the atmosphere, McMight and Kite
Kite, the captain, was glad to see this planet shift out of sight
Let’s not go back there, he said, something was not right
They never returned, but many had seen a sight that night
I ask of the night why it slips into my bedroom and
extinguishes Earth's light,
He replied softly "I'm a jealous lover and my shade
of evening lies down beside you, as we bid the
augustness of the sun adieu."
I laugh and weep at the same time,
as I'm in love with the four season's soirees
he enchants my heart with.
Many years ago, walking slowly hand in hand
with my lifeguard lover on the sands of Fire Island,
I thought love's charms would last,
his fire with starlight, jewels of moonlight,
and kisses-
with summer's wane he faded into September's
wooing embrace.
Yet glorious eventide was always there,
and, as he filled my eyes with the swallow's flight,
he whispered breathlessly, "You are mine to keep."
There will be moonbeams tomorrow,
and on them will ride
the ghostly images of one last summer evening.
Winter is roaring somewhere,
here it is creeping under the hedgerow,
catching groundhogs by surprise
as they shuffle out into the flakes and frost.
Yet tomorrow there will be one last showing
of a much-rehearsed seasonal play,
there will be long and narrow rays of sunshine,
followed by itinerant magicians
flimflamming see-through illusions.
Ghosts will haunt a darkening sky,
and they may sing sadly of all things
that must bow before
a last falling curtain of shedding leaves.
He laid next to her, incognizant and numb.
His skin once blanche white and smooth, now almost mustard color.
Sickle shape impressions were on his cheeks and chin, an obvious telling sign of the effects of the 'white girl'.
His blue eyes long since faded to a light bleak gray.
His un-kept auburn hair is weighted down with natural oil and perspiration.
In their relationship, they were self contain and relentless.
They both were destined entities with shared infinity of fortitude.
Even with opposite personalities and culture, they were an adhesive pair.
She was strikingly beautiful, a goddess with piercing brown eyes. Eyes that told a tale of misery and pain.
Her tall curvaceous slender frame moves about gracefully, like a beautiful black swan. These were the thoughts that he entertained himself while waiting for the euphoria to devour him.
The dome light in the ceiling along with the wall scones brought a howling glow against her honey color skin.
He fancied that she was even more beautiful in the morning light or was it the evening sunset, as swift the day passes with her.
Black as a raven's plume was the color of her hair.
It was long and wavy and it contoured her beautiful face.
He was enchanted with her from the first moment they met.
He knew that there was nothing he wouldn't do for her,
Even now while they were on the moon.
Even now while he is romancing the 'white girl', his love for her staid true.
The ecstasy from the 'white girl' pales in comparison to the passion he had for her.
She was his infinite reason for living, his breath, his sun, his clinging song.
In this restless world, when so many things were unsure, she will forever be his.
She moved softly against him.
She whispered, come take me.
It was blissful
copyright 2016 Torsional Storm
the open-hair magnolia remains standing
putting a hand on the window-bar
of the camellia
sometimes
i think of knowing from her
through sending a pink-letter
who have gone in the fall of night
crossing the border
on foot
and who have like to deposit
the spoilt water-chestnut
on the obsolete narrow-gauge
does the wild moon ever take hot water
from the slow river-quay of this city
following the rein-deer
it seems
his t-shirt has also disappeared
the pictorial cave-writings gradually
putting their flag down
on the cornice of clouds
that return home in the evening
even-then
why the sinthi with it flows
has smeared so much green
even-then
on this operation table
which wind brings in
so much lemon leaves
and why
so much light of carried off in a flood
has overflowed the blossoms of the brinjal
The day I let *********** in...
I didn’t even know what I was letting in.
I was just a curious boy 11, maybe 12
scrolling one evening.
One video.
One image.
One pop-up.
One “harmless” click.
Boom.
That was the beginning of the shadows.
They say curiosity killed the cat —
but they never said it could kill the conscience too.
It started small:
Late nights under blankets,
volume down, brightness low,
the glow of the screen like a secret candle.
But this wasn’t light.
This was darkness dressed in pixels.
Lust that looked like pleasure,
but left me empty every time.
It never satisfies — it only invites you deeper.
Every click, every scroll,
every “just one more,”
was digging a hole.
I hated it.
I hated what I became when no one was looking.
I’d cry after watching.
I’d pray and promise.
Swear I’d stop.
Then go back three days later.
I told myself I was still a Christian.
But how could I love God in public
and lust in private?
Guilt became my prison.
Shame, my guard.
And I served time.
Years.
One night, I was around 13 or 14,
just being “playful”
a dumb game with a family friend.
Blindfolds. Taste tests.
And I did something I regret.
They say, "You didn’t go that far."
But when God is holy,
"Not that far" is already too far.
I was spellbound by lust.
I booked a bus to sin
and paid the ticket,
but it drove me further than I ever meant to go.
It was with someone who trusted me.
Someone who may never know.
But I knew.
And God knew.
Since then, guilt became a shadow I couldn’t shake.
I tried to keep it far from my family,
but sin doesn't stay behind closed doors.
It grows.
And it all started...
because I let **** in.