Long Forestall Poems
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Admit To Myself
By Roy Merritt
The air is cold against my skin as I stand here on the street
Waiting at the place where you said we should meet
But looking at my watch I can see that you are late
It dissolves all my dreams confirming my fate
And I stand hopelessly silent I don’t know what to do
But admit to myself that our love is through
Admit to myself its over at last
Its died forever had its last gasp
Its died forever like my soul within
And never will we love each other again
What became of our love I fail to understand
Why it faded like water rolling over the sand
Why like a ghost it disappeared into the night
Like a bird it took wing and sailed into flight
And I stand hopelessly silent I don’t know what to do
But admit to myself that our love is through
Admit to myself its over at last
Its died forever its had its last gasp
Its died forever like my soul within
And never will we love each other again
I may love another someday down the line
I may though now in sorrow and painful decline
I may do so or never at all
but this pain I’m feelin’
I shan’t ever forestall
And I stand hopelessly silent I don’t know what to do
But admit to myself that our love is through
Admit to myself its over at last
Its died forever its had its last gasp
Its died forever like my soul within
And never will we love each other again
So I turn from this spot move slowly down the street
Seeing no one my eyes fixed on my feet
I don’t want them to see me or tears that I shed
Or hear the prayers I’m praying wishing I were dead
And I stand hopelessly silent I don’t know what to do
But admit to myself that our love is through
Admit to myself its over at last
Its died forever its had it last gasp
Its died forever like my soul within
And never will we love each other again
So I push on to my home empty cold and dark
With a pain like a dagger plunged deep into my heart
With tears slowly flowing washing over my face
I sit in dread misery in this empty place
And I stand hopelessly silent I don’t know what to do
But admit to myself that our love is through
Admit to myself its over at last
Its died forever its had it last gasp
Its died forever like my soul within
And never will we love each other again
Never will we love each other again
Never to ever love each other again
The village head Pymy Gruzz was hundred years old
He had no daring self neither a piece of gold
Only a daughter had he she was a foster child
She was fifteen years old Kiki– sweet, gentle and mild
She gave him comfort with a docile, obedient smile
“No worry, father”, we are all together in our Lyle.
Night was perilous, hazy, and yellow as a ghost
A chill crossed the craven moon and a platter of duck roast
Kiki awoke and stepped out, in the dark the dragon queen snored
She crossed the lake Obenjinn and mounted the hill of sword
She felt the pricks of crusty prickles but she was climbing on
She must save the village Lyle where she was born
The dawn showed her chubby face happy on the child
Kiki made her journey’s end the day was sweet and mild
She found a man with sunny face god showed her in a dream
She went to him with folded hands and made a pleading to him.
Sire, I am Kiki from village Lyle bleeding in my heart
My village folks have turned to rocks in fear of Kunnegert
She is a dragon fire breather, keeper of skull on pyre
She must be killed by a happy man I want your sword on hire.
My blood my sweat and all I have will go to you my sire
I cannot delay; my folks are locked and human skull on pyre.
The sunny man stood up straight with a radiant face
“Little kid my Kiki sweet you will not fall from grace.
I will go with you my little moon and kill the dragon sure
I say you clean in voice plain what a happy man can endure
A happy man is happy because he lives with his lord
A happy man is happy because he keeps all love on hoard
He gives it free to every creature lord had made on earth
Lord made him his best seraphim to take a human birth
He is born for others and dies for all and in compassion he is tall
A dragon’s vice in valley of Lyle he must have to forestall
So Said he and took her hand and sword shone in golden orb
They climbed down the narrow gorge in finest pace the earth can absorb
Kiki, the daring daughter of the village stepped along the happy man
The golden sword the golden orb reached the final lane
The misty valley still in spell
the misty opiate dulled the souls and spurred the hell
The poet stopped his pen, slept a little, the stories told he had to retell*.
*This is the second part
(c) RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY
14 September, 2014
K379 and K380 of Canto XXXVIII of the THIRUKKURAL, Translated with Commentary
(Just a note on the translations to say that, even if G.U. Pope did more to research and elucidate the THIRUKKURAL, his translations - with some exceptions - bent on rhyme and stilted structure, require further interpretation and are sometimes needlessly obscure.
W. H. Drew and John Lazarus's translations are generally quite clear, but tend sometimes towards needless expatiation. In my own rendering, I have tried to keep to the semantic ordering and grammatical structure wherever possible.
Lest non-Tamils unfamiliar with the Kurals think that the author Thiruvalluvar also used punctuation marks found in the translations, would do well to note that Tamil writers of yore never had this bother to cope with. Besides, as Pope points out, the short and long vowels like "o" and "O" were undifferentiated in the original; now and then however the dot over the "l" (there are three in the Tamil alphabet) was used to indicate the use of "l" as "ela" or "la".) T. Wignesan
K379: nanraangkaal nallavaak kaanpavar
anraangkaal allal paduvathu evan
When good things come, men view them all as gain,
When evils come, why then should they complain? ( Transl. G.U. Pope)
How is it that those, who are pleased with good fortune, trouble themselves
when evil comes (since both are equally the decree of fate)? (Transl. Drew & Lazarus)
When everything goes well, we tend to enjoy life (for what it is worth);
When things take a turn for the worse, why should we whine? (Transl. T. Wignesan)
K380: uulin peruvali yaavula matruonru
cuulinum thaanmunth thurum
What powers so great as those of Destiny? Man's skill
Some other thing contrives; but fate's beforehand still. (Transl. G.U. Pope)
What is stronger than fate? If we think of an expedient (to avert it), it will itself
be with us before (the thought). (Transl. Drew & Lazarus)
Is there force mightier than fate? It will forestall the very thought of one who tries to dodge it. ( Transl. T. Wignesan)
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Strikingly crafty logomaniac presents...
what else... his trademark blatherskite!
While sprawled comfortably
numb upon davenport
Iowa daily dose of poetic mishmash,
thus yours truly couches, kneads, sports...
his imponderable matted
swiftly styled balderdash
noah intent to kindle
potential ark enemy, nor abash
please pardon your
garden variety philologos,
preparing himself for backlash
he spouts nonsense words
with chutzpah and brash
his logorrhea affliction begets
meaningless rot i.e. namely ishkabibble,
where scapegoated test dummies crash
inscrutably, dumbly, busily blankly
boxing, blinking, batting... eyelash
hijacking, flouting, disregarding... covenant,
not causing corpus callosum damage
basically self made edict equals hogwash,
within one North American banana republic
predicated upon fiat gnash
trumpets blatantly non subliminal,
subordinate, subtle... ho hum
messages cuz bosh to liberty we smash
with most popular refrain
"send her/him back" cash
hearing purported dispensable
deportee with swash-
buck killing bravado
marquee, where klieg lights
blindingly broadcast in a flash.
"FAKE" mania loosed doth stall
refugees, where desperation witnesses
land of milk and honey,
perhaps some heading to Broomall,
who if necessary crawl
escaping forced sex trafficking poverty,
persecution, violence... downfall,
viz puppet government
tricked out noble (no bull) border wall
configured as demilitarized zone
hostilility spewing noxious,
poisonous, venomous gall
courtesy commander in chief
who essentially hoops to forestall
his impeachment proceedings
bristling, ranting, scathing... twitter feeds
spewing bosh raining hatred filled squall
spouting jingoistic rhetoric
atop anointed hall
of the mountain king
eerily similar to Taj Mahal
firing expletive epithets
assenting military mandating withdrawal
loosing vicious police and/or junkyard dogs
declaring no exemption against marshall
law innocence absolute zero guard
as sharp teeth nsync with flesh maul
cue hideous sinister laughter
welcome to danse macabre ball!
While sidestepping impediments,
Achilles heel stricken with paralyzing zap
chronically inducing captain klutz
to bemoan and yap,
i.e. (think) booby trap
strategically laid down by the missus -
necessitating yours truly
to patschke with marauder map
in an to circumvent and handicap
becoming lame and crippled for life
essentially rendering me totally tubular
pathetic non-ambulatory chap.
Aforesaid dangerous tripping hazard,
the spouse I do calmly berate
causing me being waylaid
for very important date
and/or additionally hurrying
to forestall bowel movement,
viz urgent incommodious fate
mine impromptu tanglefoot (feet) dance step
doth ineluctably foment hate.
Ready to lash out courtesy sanity claws
meanwhile thee wife burst out with guffaws
me cursing Sir Isaac Newton's gravitational laws
one infuriated husband
our marital covenant, he swiftly redraws
subsequently divorce sputters
thru clenched jaws
underscoring how feigned wedded bliss
(actually shotgun marriage)
replete with many flaws
e'er since chance encounter
regarding future maternal cause
deux daughters we begat
packed their bags at tender age,
and left home without pause.
All these approximate
two score plus oddly even years
avoiding precarious hazardous risks wears
heavily reinforced steel tipped
crampon tricked out boots,
which rugged footwear eventually tears,
though they outlasted lifetime
predicted on advertisements and follow up
customer satisfaction questionnaires
as satisfied survivor traversing
harrowing riddled landscapes,
I feel adequately trained to join
most hardy (doubting thomas) mountaineers,
especially those with surname Reznick
livingsocial, snapchatting, and twittering in Switzerland
possibly linkedin with Harris heirs
this wordsmith conclusively blares.
I non-jokingly attest -
above recounted spectacle no humorous avail,
thereby true love moost prevail
when wife leaves mayhem and bedlam
nothing boot trail of destruction without fail
excellent preparation if/when
purblind poetic papa needs to learn Braille.
A barred spiral galaxy in the Giraffe
has one of the arms curled in front of its core
where dust laden lanes in the grouping outpour
as Hubble has shown it for earthlings’ behalf.
Some sort of encounter perhaps came along
for bent NGC Two One Four Six once took,
which lent it that loopy anomalous look,
engendering forces colossally strong.
So lively in midwifing star births is it
that this galaxy earned the term starburst kind
like clusters of blooms Mother Nature designed
in tropical gardens terrene to visit
or namely the clerodendrum called starburst
which effloresces in a canopy bright
as do starburst galaxies at cosmic height
with budding sidereal young being nursed.
The galaxy’s less large than Milky Way’s size
just slightly, they say, to astronomers’ eyes,
with starry creation in lavish supplies
thus adding to worlds in stelliferous skies.
What habitants will these celestials see fit
to bring to fruition as creatures, to wit,
allow them to flourish as features permit
then blossom as lifeforms evolved bit by bit?
About eighty thousand light-years end to end
it lies ninety million light-years from our place,
this mortal abode of humanity’s race
that’s wending its oft wayward way round the bend,
or so it seems, though there are stargazer dreams
as reveries reaching existence’s plane
whence deeper dimensions of being may reign
embracing the whole of reality’s streams
in sensory oneness with all great and small,
beyond unenlightenment’s treacherous thrall,
a doomed irredeemable fate to forestall
which sadly might ever more likely befall.
We dwell in a realm where delusions benight,
enraptured in spell making wrong appear right
with vision too blurry to notice our plight.
Such times find it vital to seek out the light.
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
Info ~ NGC 2146, a starburst galaxy in Camelopardalis (Anne’s Astronomy News)…
FROM THE PIT OF HELL
By R. A. Merritt
The KKK has got a new name
But they don’t wear a robe and hood
They’re alternative right and are often polite
Like decent people should
Yeah they wear suits and ties
And have wingtips on their feet
And many of them are college grads
And members of the elite
And you know very well where they’re from
Where their minds do dwell
They’re the worse of America
They’re from the pit of hell
They’re giving each other Roman salutes
But not wearing Brown Shirts yet
But I expect they will be real soon
And be marching in Goose Step
They’re all over your city streets
They’re all over your home town
Anger in their excited voices
With faces wearin’ frowns
They don’t love our country
Though they profess they do
They in fact hate with it a passion
For the likes of me and you
And you know very well where they’re from
Where their minds do dwell
They’re the worse of America
They’re from the pit of hell
And they run the gamut
Are old age and very young
And they all walk in darkness
And avoid the shining sun
They’ve infected our country
Are a virus of wanton hate
And if we don’t cure it before to long
It just might be to late
And you know very well where they’re from
Where their minds do dwell
They’re the worse of America
They’re from the pit of hell
Yes if we don’t do something soon
This tyranny forestall
We’ll be headed for their prison camps
Or be pushed up against a wall
And no one will be left to weep for us
Or take account of our strife
Our freedom we once cherished
Will be as dead as our life
And you know very well where they’re from
Where their minds do dwell
They’re the worse of America
They’re from the pit of hell
And you know very well where they’re from
Where their minds do dwell
They’re the worse of America
They’re from the pit of hell
The very pit of hell
I've traveled this celestial ball visiting many places of beauty and renown.
My world travels are over, but there is many an American city and town,
That I really pine to visit before I cease to function and cash in my chips.
I reckon you could say these places are on my bucket list for country trips!
On my grand tour I will visit Tick Bite and Lizard Lick, North Carolina.
While in the area I'll see Shoofly and also Spider Web, South Carolina.
On the way to Texas I'll visit Turkey Scratch and Toad Suck, Arkansas.
In the Lone Star State I'll drop by Buffalo Mop, Cut and Shoot and Hee Haw.
I'll visit Bean Blossom when I swing through Indiana, the Hoosier State.
In Ohio I want to visit Spunky Puddle and Knockemstiff on the same date.
Just a short drive south, I don't want to miss Monkey's Eyebrow, Kentucky.
Hopefully, I can travel to Monks Misery, Maryland the same day, if I'm lucky.
Since I'll be in the vicinity, its a short drive up to Pennsylvania to Intercourse.
Then on to Cricket Corner, Vermont and Hell Hollow, New Hampshire, of course.
Heading west through Colorado I want to see Punkin Center and Cripple Creek.
I'll take a side trip to Bug Tussle, Oklahoma, for more excitement to seek!
While in Washington I'll take the opportunity to visit the town of Opportunity.
And down in Oregon I'll make a special effort to visit Scappoose and Sublimity.
Lord willing, I hope and pray that there will be nothing my tour to forestall,
Then I can truly pass in peace and say that I have seen and done it all!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
NOTE: This is a fictional write written with considerable tongue in cheek. It is not be taken seriously. A lot of the stuff I write is written for the pure fun of it but a lot of comments I receive think I'm dead serious! The names of the places are real, however, and I wrote it purely for entertainment! Enjoy.
Although I'm childless by own hand
That's no crime as I understand
But parenthood I might restrict?
This world's not one that I'd inflict
Upon another soul by choice
So, in this cause, I raise my voice.
I do not judge the ones that do
But wish that more would think it through!
A boy's just toy to those in charge,
A tool for war until discharge
Of duty, all but smart must face,
Although for cripple no disgrace.
Boys taught all feelings to suppress,
That death by war should not depress,
For to the victors go the curls
Of otherwise complicit girls.
A girl too's chattel to the hoards
Of fools who rule conscription boards,
Her privileged status meant to lure
Acceptance of forced life demure!
Her payoff's choice among the rank
Of men untrained to feel or think.
Bereft, accepts the lot of moms
(Who build earth's population bombs.)
Where's freedom of democracy,
When population's blind, can't see?
Is there new hope when women serve,
Experience what men deserve?
To earn the salary of men,
Be president, but without sin?
I do not hold my breath and yet
What if more lived life with no net
Of children born to soften fall
In our old age! Would that forestall
The privilege we seek to gain
Though at the cost of other's pain?
No child is born who asks for life!
And parenthood can foster strife
You did not dream of, or foretell,
(The plans of man don't all end well!):
Loss factored in if you are wise
And plan in fact to improvise!
Just know that rain won't always serve
A ripened field or sun preserve
A field that's dry, bereft of rain,
All life, in fact, foreshadows pain.
Though rain will come, a poem rhyme
God still decides when it is time,
No farmer's labor, love can save,
What lightning burns, we're weather's slave.
Best scorn our pride and value mirth,
Our future's tied to Mother Earth!
Long Tooth
August 1, 2018
Written: August 22, 2023
Letter to My Children Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Quote: I stayed in a really old hotel last night. They sent me a wake-up letter. Steven Wright
______________________________________________________________
In this vast world, my precious child,
There are truths I wish to share,
Of climate's plight and wars so wild,
Of diseases that instigate despair.
But there's no need to be concerned, my son.
For every challenge met, a lesson won.
In life's relentless ebb and flow,
Adversity presence we blow
My kid, the fate of the earth is in our hands.
A delicate equilibrium must be retained.
Because the earth is our treasured land.
It is also our ethical duty to be restrained.
Those wars may rage on, my sweetheart.
But be aware that peace can still be found.
Acts of kindness, love, and creativity are art.
Spreading happiness and calm all around.
Some illnesses may strike, my dearest love,
Such shadows cast from the heavens above,
Yet fear not, for science shall prevail.
And compassion light shall never fail.
In the depths of my heart, I feel a call,
To recount the mercies that forestall,
To treasure each day with gratitude thrall,
And answer the world, standing tall.
With honesty as your compass, you stride,
Integrity is your armor, by your side,
Empathy is your beacon, shining wide,
Guiding you on life's tumultuous ride.
In the depths of our souls, a fire burns bright.
Love is the driving force that ignites our delight.
It whispers through the wind, as gently as a dove.
Transcending barriers, connecting hearts with love
So pace forth, my child, with courage and grace.
Embrace the world, let love's light embrace,
For in your heart lies the power to ignite.
A flame that burns with whispered wisdom and might.