Long Fathomed Poems
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What is the truth of power?
What can refute all lies?
Look at a meteor shower
In clear midnight skies.
Between the fluffy clouds
In Arizona sky -
Between the fears and doubts -
Between the "you" and "I" -
Carrying time and matter
From the galactic heights,
Into the skies they scatter
And sanctify the night.
Meteors, stone and metal,
Burning up in their flight -
Look at their skill and mettle!
Look, and gain second sight!
Look at the sparks in heaven!
Look, and see with your eyes -
Six, seven, eight, eleven -
Look, and be mesmerized!
Hailing from worlds unknown -
Rich with the universe -
Ice, fire, earth and stone -
Passion and speed and force!
Look at the truth they carry -
That they wish to impart -
See how they wish to marry
Earth with galactic heart!
Meteors, bits of planets -
Parcels of cosmic dust -
Iron and gold and granite
From an uncharted past -
Here they come into present
And bring inside their core
Pieces of the Incessant
Into Forevermore.
How do I rise to meet you
Before you burn in flight?
How can the human greet you
And understand your plight?
How can the stars and atoms,
Each one its own world,
Be in their essence fathomed
And in their truth unfurled?
Sun lights us, and we heed him -
Sun is the source of light -
But how much greater wisdom
Dwells in the star-drenched night?
Measure them, know them, see them -
Numerous like the sand -
Capture what they conceive and
Try, try to understand
Everything that they know
All that they have within -
Know them as they bestow
Their sainthood and their sin.
Meteors, flying toward us,
From the unknown worlds -
Messages that night forwards
And with its chill enfolds -
Mysteries wrapped in darkness -
Catch them before they burn -
From the unfathomed, chartless,
Space, they to us return.
And with your head in clouds -
Or on a satellite -
Meet them; yes, meet the crowds
Of meteors in the night -
Look at them as you tower
And fathom as they fly
The reverse meteor shower:
Souls reaching for the sky.
Life is an interesting phenomenon
Everyone talks about it.
But who knows about it completely?
Is it so difficult to be fathomed?
Having said that it’s not bizarre to comprehend.
All scriptures teach the logics of life.
But the journey of life provides one to make it out better.
If so, why should we read those sacred teachings?
They are the documental evidences
Make us get convinced with what we experience.
But experience is not mandatory to learn so many things.
What does the pedestal of Ozymandias speak?
But what is remained there?
The dangling hands of Alexander the Great teach the noblest truth.
The bloodshed of the Kalinga war transformed Asoka the Great.
Arishadvarga, the six enemies exist in every mind.
There is no exception to any mortal.
They stay in dormant state.
When evil impressions intensified, they unfurl their wings.
Fulfilling desires adds colors to life.
The more you want the more you get tangled and life becomes a Gordian tie.
"Desires are the root cause of all sufferings," Lord Buddha said.
We come and go with empty hands.
Give your best during your sojourn on this platform.
Agape love alone brings the lasting happiness.
Now that we are here
Let's carry forward the call -
“May Ben Adhem’s tribe increase!”
PLACED : 1st
Now that we are here Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
Date: 27-03-2023
Jacob, who swindled and swapped his stew
for the birthright, then the blessing
that he felt like were his due,
in time, his dream would be secured,
he’d marry the love of his life,
sweet Rachel, who would one day give birth
to a son named…
Joseph, brother and son, a heart undone
by jealousy, the sin beyond words
expressing the violence of a desperate shadow
silhouettes of vengeance, complicated
by sentiments of what could have been
if only hearts had given in…
then, his potential, forthcoming
victory, a vision, remembered
a dream, fathomed, fulfilled.
the children of Israel, slaves under the rule of Pharoah
who God would harden until he told Moses the slaves could go
but he’d follow – to the sea where God parted the waters,
allowing the Israelites to walk on dry land – while their pursuers
were washed beneath the sea, forever gone –
forever erased from the earth’s soft song…
Moses led them, wandering in the wilderness for 40 years
yearning for the land God had promised them when they left Egypt –
led by the cloud, during the day
led by the fire, during the evening
they were fed manna that only God could have given,
they were given the law, so they’d know right and wrong,
the ten commandments, to teach them God’s rules…
as time continues on, there comes David, after God’s own heart
playing his instruments, glorifying his God,
killing the giant who sought Saul’s army,
destroying darkness with his kindness and charm
David brought victory to the hearts who knew him,
the one who would be King of Israel…
as the story colors between the lines, there is One
who comes to live on this earth, One who came by virgin birth,
One who knows us – the sinner, the soul, the saint
He leads us to the drink of the living water, He is life
and He is the sacrifice that silences our fears,
wipes away each tear and, despite the pain of a cross,
whispers light through the heart, comforts us when we hurt,
makes a way for our heart to praise…
the love, His grace, He is the way
the second chance for me to say
when I die, I won’t have to pay
I’ll have a new life, a new day
God’s Son came to erase the past with a love that will always last!
As Easter remembers – beyond all the winters - here is hope that keeps giving
love that keeps living – He never stops forgiving!
I can see us now Luv,
pettin ponies, musing in warm moon light,
free versin in satin style, a smile born from genuine form,
Two hearts too stubborn for apologies or effigies of maybies,
sunburned by stardom, kingdom of monsters fathomed,
forlorned by the "Cloak and Dagger" of fox hunt horn,
withholdin my love from you feels like a wasted martyrdom,
The riverbanks of apocolypse may swell over my joy
but I will not drown Luv, I will not crumple,
winds of hysterical 'what could be' scratch my face
still I do not frown, I collapse not to the ground,
I am not a runaway from your palace of peeps & pain,
nor am I a tresspasser in your orchard of ecstacy,
I can no longer accept lovin you in the third person,
these masks of merrigold manipulation have become dreadful,
Much of my life has been spent defendin
against manipulators, abusers, haters, and mockers,
I needed to hear you say
that my affection for you was not taken for granted,
Thanks for being my Eve on those evenings of earnest thirst,
my Viper Rose, that it was I you chose, as God knows,
my love is not runnin, its stayin,
not prayin or playin
just gainin from the sayin,
love once levied is forever bevied,
gotta keep certain that my spine is mine Luv -
J.A.B.
THE VAN GONE MUSEUM
A gleaming, extravagant building.
Filled with jewels of art.
The brainless herd pile in at
their allotted time slot. No thoughts
Zombie tourists flock into the Van
Gogh museum. It doesn’t matter
how many nationalities are there.
Everyone does the same.
Observers drone from one gallery
to another.
Their eyes not even focusing on the
painstaking art.
The portraits and landscapes stare
back at the viewer in
disbelief and disgust.
Please comprehend what I am.
The constant shutter of a camera
can be heard but not the slightest
intellectual thought can be even
fathomed amongst them.
Those photos they taken cannot
even echo the detail of the brush stroke
or slight colour difference.
They are a false facsimile at best.
The painting now a lifeless corpse.
A digital copy is what remains on a
seldom used SD card.
Never to be looked upon again.
A gravity trudges the cattle toward
the famous sunflowers ; not for
artistic merit but for bragging
rights and social media selfies
Although Van Gogh is long dead, it
seems apparent his legacy, his art,
his life’s work is now
Van Gone….
Energy found its way through the rigorous
rigamarole of trial and error of those persistent
like the Wright Brothers, the Curies, or Thomas
Edison, and others. The close failures were consistent.
At the time, based on their hypothesis
that it will benefit all living-kind existent.
Yet they were all clueless to the vigorous
negativity that their inventions will be hell-bent.
The electric chair, countless deaths by accidental
electrocution, then the military plane that dropped
the atomic bombs, first on Hiroshima's citadel
by using devices onboard for their best opt
to maximize deaths. Also, Nagasaki being critical.
The Atomic bombs were both propped
with radioactive properties that were essential.
Ergo, good and bad are clarified when mopped.
Since the beginning of human history,
entropy played a significant part
that affected borderlines, racial sophistry
another open flesh wound of the heart
as fanatism occupied and warped the symmetry
of religion and segregates, faiths impart
brained the clueless first via chemistry
until Tsar Bomba took the chart.
The atmospheric conditions are codependent
with temperature. Barometric condition affects
weather and health that are both consistent
as one trails a single value that projects
air quality being as effective and existent
ergo, temperature gauges the fall and rise as subjects
and cannot separate themselves as self-dependents
so they're not polarized, but affectionate objects.
A preposterous venture to entertain as the last phase
of the Three Laws. The First and Second Laws were
easily fathomed, yet the Third, like dots in a maze
became blank when they didn't link keeping the stir
as the only constant having left my mind in a haze
being kerfuffle and not stifled, the informed concur
casting doubts as temperature measures my mind strays
returns a better me. I deduced 'twas by an amateur.
First Law: Energy cannot be created or destroyed, only transformed or transferred (conservation of energy).
Second Law: Entropy, a measure of disorder, always increases in a closed system.
Third Law: As the temperature of a system approaches absolute zero, the entropy of the system approaches a constant minimum.
I chose "NFC", Not For Contest, due to my drawn conclusion, sadly truth became the judge.
(For people of my generation, especially among the country folk,
dating was not in vogue. When a girl reaches the marriable age, proposals would come and after one or two formal meetings, if the boy and girl like each other, the marriage would be fixed. So, it was more like gambling)
As all teenagers, in my seventeen,
I was lost in reverie of my life with my man,
In my mind's canvas, I drew the image of a gallant,
Who would one day come to wed and own me his.
In the nick of time, he solemnly came,
To hold my hand and tie the knot.
With a pounding heart and quivering breath,
I found him differing from the man I dreamt.
The fabulous fabric in my loom,
Looked at variance from the one unfurled,
Transfixed between fact and fallacy,
I struggled to hide a falling tear.
Time marched on in silent haste,
And I learned to outgrow my childish whims.
Sagacity dawned with passing age,
Making me discern the real from the sham.
It made me admire his sanguine self.
On fathomed deep beyond external mien,
I saw him unveiled in taintless worth,
That made my heart ever pine in love.
Piecing together our halved selves,
With the glue of love, our identities merged.
Now he is with me in my blues,
Consoling me with his balmy touch.
He is with me in my joy,
Making it resonant with a hearty laugh.
He is there when storms rage,
Whispering in my ear, not to fear.
He taught me how to savor life,
To meet the slings with radiant cheer.
Now the image is etched deep,
Never to erase, nor to revise!
And the old portrait locked within,
Grew so musty, bereft of use.
In its place, I keep within,
His solid figure in indelible print.
Jan.22. 2023
~ PLACED FIRST~
How Do You Feel Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Mystic Rose Rose
In the land of finite, measurable calculus of existence,
You are a silhouette of mystique, esoteric obscurity,
A symbol ambiguous, living among realm of precision,
Unreachable to quotidian and simplistic enumeration,
Unamenable to honoring bounds of constrained world;
Yet, allured in metaphors, much alike a pretty woman,
Serenaded by poetic adulation in verses of fascination.
We invoke you when enormity we can’t comprehend
Being clueless of its reach or whether its journey ends:
Numbers uncountable, we postulate, seek your vicinity,
Universe we can’t grasp, we claim, expands infinitely,
Time propelling future, we surmise, ticks into eternity,
Whether space or distance you’re un-fathomed entity;
Oh! Infinity, the truth is, we can’t clasp your immensity.
Why, O, why you chase the unknown and the elusive?
Such a dry emotion to be everlasting without feelings!
Being eternal or endless ~offers not a beloved meaning
Unless you can be sensual, evermore of love romantic
Or the vows tolling forever in unbreakable relationships
Or timelessly striving to create treasures of memories
Or a paradise on earth blooming heavenly, perpetually.
Oh! Infinity, be laudable as can be, to instincts of poetry
But, remain true to self ~unknowable, nebulous intrigue.
November 22, 2021
Placed 1st: This or That, Vol 8 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title chosen: Of Infinity
I thought to write about my High School Social Studies
book report. An uncomplicated short story about the
lives of two characters who like to take life the short and
easy way. I decided to write it as a narrative, showcasing
the simple characters as carefree drifters. Near the end,
the lives that they made easy, sadly turned complicated.
It's about George Milton and Lennie Small. The roaming
workers shared their dreams of being eventual farm
owners during the Depression Period. George was the
smaller and a bit learned of the two. Lennie was taller
and that made him oafish because of his limited wit.
Auburn, California, started their course across the state’s
harsh landscape from one ranch job to another. They
closed in on a job just outside the town of Soledad.
Stopping for a swim off the Salinas River, Lennie
gathered up delicate flowers. He is overwhelmed with
anything soft, fragile, and pretty. In his zealous nature,
he hugged it lovingly but much too tightly as they quickly
withered and died. George noted that oddity before, but
he thought it as being trifle to be of no concern. As they
prepared themselves before they arrived at the ranch, to
a slight degree, the witty George would be a money-saver
type, and Lennie's character with his notable oddity, is
simple-minded. Yet on their first day, Lennie strangled
Candy accidentally. She was the owner's son's pretty
wife. The rhetoric grew unstable for Lennie wherein
laid the guilt. George was forced to face some sort of
retribution with farmhands yakety-yak of a lynch mob
that would lead to a hanging. Left with that sad chapter,
George grabbed ahold of Lennie. At a secluded part
where no noise would be heard. George quickly closed
that chapter when he took out a pistol he found at the
farm and he shot Lennie as George fathomed money
to be his closing grace.
Mariners in our wanderlust,
We sail beyond the horizon’s curve.
Fearful, we dare the briny deep
Out of faith in the dreams we serve.
Rough-hewn by years of knots and coils,
Our hands hoist up the canvass sails,
In the ways that the ancients toiled,
To cross the many-fathomed deep.
The muted moaning of the masts;
The pitch and the roll and the yaw
Of wooden hulls upon the deep;
The wondrous fear of freedom’s call.
Daredevil dolphins rise and roll,
As fleets of flying fish fin by
Pursued by patrols of petrels
Winging o’er foam and stinging spray.
We plough the mirrored Milky Way,
Bright on the obsidian main,
As pale phosphorescent plankton
Stream by beneath the midnight moon.
Monsters revel in the tempests,
Risen from out the great abyss.
They lurk in misty fjords, off port,
Glowering in the wine-dark sea.
The heartbeats of our bodies blend
The ancient rhythms of our cells
With the rising, falling rhythms
With the siren rhythms of the sea.
Mariners in our wanderlust,
We behave like a swarm of bees,
Spreading the pollen of culture
To the four antipodes.