Long Impinge Poems
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By Sashi. Prabhu(zeauoxian) 1/3/2012.
Often, I glimpse from my roof top garden, leftward,
From the sedentary swing but I know the descent of woodpeckers have soared.
From the vertical column sans a crown of leaves of rotted dead wood,
Once, which was in its own right a magnificent coconut tree where it stood.
Freshness, splendor, Vitality and flexibility of a live tree all depleted and gone,
T’was a pertinent choice for the woodpecker mates to build a home foregone.
Abundantly birdies flock, Pigeons, robins, mynahs, hornbills, cranes and parrots,
On the evergreen nearby tamarind tree, but the woodpeckers my eyes ferrets.
From that eventful day my eyes they set upon,
Their wood pecking bills would on the bark sculpt and impinge on.
A homely hole to drill,
Their head moving rhythmically and looks like a cap with red frill.
Twenty five days back they first arrived I lucidly recollect,
Ten days, a pair of hatched altricial chicks, mates from adversaries’ have to protect.
One morn had me glancing to the oval cavital hole on the bark,
And feasted my eyes on feeding chicks being readied, their lives to embark.
Blissful and content , I recollect now I sat a bit longer to observe and discern,
Glorious hues, auger bill, cap with red frills, of the peckers as they take their unambiguous turns.
To zip across like beige, buttery yellow plumaged darts across the lush foliage all green,
Within, watchable bounds to fetch, insects, worms and saps as nutriment routine.
The chicks I saw they peek out of the shielded barky holes with awe,
Strength it seems to me have filled their wings bill and sharpened claw.
Now I wonder if I can listen to the joyous feminine “chrr”
and the shrill masculine “kwirr”.
As the young chick in the hole frolicking, giving it a try to fly,
Away in the wide world after saying a good bye onto the sky very high…………
Now the mates without emotions, kerfuffle and ado,
To each other, their home and their prying neighbour me have bid “adieu”.
Often, I glimpse from my roof top garden, leftward,
From the sedentary swing but I know the descent of woodpeckers have soared
Milton’s Paradise Lost is a book I sometimes dip into. For modern
readers it does not lend itself to a quick browse. It’s pretty clear from the
start who dunnit.
My version in paperback contains insightful explanatory notes.
Apparently “Science” in the Tempter’s words“ O Sacred,
Wise and Wisdom giving Plant, Mother of Science”,* being derived from the Latin verb “scire”, really means what we now understand as “knowledge”.
This note seems to be for the benefit of such innocents who are
unaware of the process of diachronic semantic change, and who
may also entertain misgivings about nuclear power plants.
Newton’s apple might jolt us into considering matters of considerable
gravity.
Today we are concerned more about fallout than with the Fall, more
with the atom than with Adam.
Science is not primarily concerned with moral questions, yet
we have all benefited from science. That science has also
furnished Man with the means of self-extermination and involves environmental pollution on a global scale we must accept as collateral damage, call it what you will.
Science is not primarily concerned with moral questions.
Even though scientific knowledge is based on the axiom that our sensory perceptions, the experiments, observations and theories of science cohere,
being phenomena in one and the same time-space continuum, a scientist
should not be diverted from his or her quest by troublesome thoughts about extraneous factors, be they social, political or moral in nature, that impinge on the awareness of one indivisible reality.
In Milton’s day “science” simply meant “knowledge”.
Milton was concerned with the problem of good and evil, the relationship of God and Man, the conflict between Truth and Mammon, not with the complex realities of our modern industrial high-tech world.
Perhaps cogito ergo sum, that premise of the modern scientific method, also has a moral dimension.
Milton’s Paradise Lost is a book I occasionally dip into.
(I wrote this PRIOR to the election, but many of the same questions remain)
I cannot tell you where I stand,
I don't know what to think,
Our beloved country, USA
Is standing on the brink.
The candidates for POTUS
Are questionable, at best,
And I cringe to think what each might do
When they're finally put to test.
See, one is spreading vitriol,
The other lies at length,
And their affinity for bickering
Just saps our nation's strength.
They seem to have forgotten
They're supposed to be our "voice",
And the selfish aims they represent
Just further clouds our choice.
I've never been more worried
About the future that's in sight,
And what our votes may bring about,
Whether leaning left or right.
I'm beleaguered for my children,
And for my grandkids, too,
For this eventuate selection
Will impinge on all they do.
The problems that we're facing,
As a people and a land,
Have never been more critical
Than the issues now at hand.
Our economy and human rights
Are balancing on edge,
And terrorism spreads unchecked
As the caliphate is fed.
New racial tensions plague us,
Foreign policies are unclear,
Immigration needs attention,
Health insurance crises near.
Our defense systems are ailing,
Our penal system weak,
Our cyber systems vulnerable,
And crime has reached a peak.
Our preference is for party lines
Over unity, of late,
And it seems we've traded kindness
For animosity and hate.
Never in my memory
Has this country needed more,
A leader with true character
And integrity at their core.
Yet as we enter crunch time
The lesser evil seems the choice,
For our votes will have no confidence
As we lack a steadfast voice.
I wish our path was clearer
As election day draws close,
And I wish I could be hopeful
For the land I love the most.
So, I'm praying for a miracle
And a light to shine the way,
But I fear we're at dear mercy's sake,
For our beloved USA.
Avast emotional gulf manifested; courtesy
series of unfortunate events; sundered
biologically accorded, cherished, enshrined
paternal bond; resultant dereliction defies,
justifies, ratifies...dissonance; unbearable
hindsight excoriates impropriety reviewing
dirty deeds done dirt cheap; impossible mission
to excise indelibly etched psychological
impacted repercussions upon mine fountainhead;
weighing excruciating deserved self loathing;
permanently deplorable depravity yoked;
unyielding choke hold, no longer asking
forgiveness, but airing errant culpability;
dada's guilt indefensible impropriety; begetting
permanent fallout; exacting just desserts; bitter
regret beast of burden (oxe see moron) housed
within self made villain; unjust to impinge your
providential opportunities, whose blessed smarts
plus unfettered, unencumbered, undaunted...
daring do promise productive existence par
excellence, versus anxiety riddled torturous
legacy writ large across countenance this papa;
analogously das scribe bing mortal epitaph, while
dark shadows haunt this edgy rusty knight, who
once pawn time shrugged off mischievous
lascivious actions as payback; recognizably erred;
misperceptions (mine); deduced ex post facto,
when the missus doled out unpleasantries;
exploding anger; vented regarding significant
roiling perturbations harkening to her own
unrepentant poisonous stinging toxicity;
delivered courtesy birth parents; hands lack
king awareness to rock cradle with tender
loving care, hence burdened with childhood
tsoris prior to accepting yours truly as life
contra dance partner these preceding xxii+
years avoiding unseemly behavior; aware
that the mother of our two darling daughters
doth love and forgive me, though recouping
similar results with first offspring may remain
tense, and many years past not a happy camper.
The Discipline of Failure
By John Herlihy
There is a discipline to failure that no one can deny;
We are set up to fail miserably, by others on the sly.
Risk can be calculated into the mix to heighten success;
You cannot achieve higher goals if you settle for less.
There is more discipline to failure than there is to success;
Failure teaches us about caution and scrutiny, I must confess.
To examine what went wrong in spite of concerted efforts,
And to learn from our many mistakes like seasoned experts.
My individual success may produce unreasoned envy,
Coloring with darkness the meaning of the word friendly.
My failure only exposes me to the vulgarity of people’s insults,
But insults do not necessarily impinge upon my final results.
Success by definition includes the inevitability of failure;
Without the risk of failure, mediocrity will be our savior.
Failure makes the drudgery of digging holes into a fine art;
We dig our own graves and then lay down with a broken heart.
Risk-taking is now a fashionable impulse in the modern-day salon;
To ward off failure, we cling to it tightly like a police baton.
We take risks in the hope of achieving a glorious success,
To ward off evil and make sure that failure has every redress.
Make every effort to control risk, otherwise risk will control you;
What seems at first a pot of gold may only turn into a boiling stew.
There is a time to have courage and express the need to be bold;
But recklessness only invites failure and the feeling of being sold.
Hold fast to the discipline of failure as a means of achieving success;
By God, I will ultimately succeed in my goals and never settle for less.
So what country did you make?
Is it a penthouse, or a rented cubbyhole
in the same sky high city where the difference
is the size of your hold-out that can also peer out.
When the TV is silent and sullen
do you wonder
what other country you belong to?
Do you risk getting shot
for just looking out of a window,
or do you lollygag over fine wines
and does your bowtie spin
when you grin?
Do the people guard you
or impinge upon your sovereignty
with their greasy knives and forks?
Did you register as a foreigner
with the borderless guard dogs?
Did your country come with
a trash compactor and a rattrap?
I also come from a land as isolated as yours.
I travel incognito
as a stranger known to be unwanted
until kidnapped.
Did you choke twice
over an olive in your dirty martini?
Did you vow to stay far away
from the drug-dazed
and only send out or call in
for your own addictions?
Does your country salute you
for having regular bowel movements,
for not clogging up the toilet bowl?
I, like you, wrote my own constitution
it is written on an old postcard
that I sent to myself.
Are you a founder or a spy
snooping from an eye in the sky?
I may visit your county;
feel free to borrow my nose hair trimer,
my first born.
We, the Emperors of just enough space
should ratify unworkable treaties,
we may need to test
the limits of a mutual hostility.
When you turn the TV back on
do you, like me, wonder what country
this is that hates us from afar?
Blow smoke, smoke blow, suck when necessary,
bruit a patriotic vapor
into a rattling air conditioner,
never surrender.
I reckon I've seen about everything in my nigh four-score years.
Obnoxious teens, obnoxious elders and unpleasant Wall-Mart cashiers,
And those baggy pants with the crotch nearly reaching to the knees,
But folks with a cell phone in their ear compare to none of these!
Some people sport spiked hair dyed orange, red or green.
Others with rings piercing their lips - a weird sight to be seen!
Gorgeous ladies flaunt tacky tattoos that seem mighty *****.
Plus all of that, they have a cell phone glued to the ear!
Vexatious ringtones on some cellular phones cause me to cringe,
'Specially if in a fine bistro or church my serenity they impinge!
The "William Tell Overture" in a concert is mighty fine to hear,
But please spare me that tinny tune from the cell phone in your ear!
Some use their cell phones while driving - to all others oblivious,
Never minding that such inattention could be very injurious!
Seems to me 'twould be tricky trying to concentrate and steer,
With that consarned cellular phone sticking in the ear!
Cell phones are an improvement in communications, I suppose,
With their music, cameras, computers and a dial that glows.
But, alas, for future generations I often wonder and fear:
Will babes be born with a cell phone protruding from the ear?
Entry for Simon Rogerson's "Let's Explore Digital Technology" Contest
(13 Feb 22)
SALVATION ACCORDING TO FAITH
“Help, help!”, I shout out loud, in fear.
‘HELP, HELP!’, echoes of my voice I hear.
Over and over, impinge in my mind
Closer and closer, it gets so near.
Louder and louder my cries, my plea
Further and further they go from me…
……they’re gone.
Silence now reigns, it deafens me
Panic has broken and overtakes me
Faster and faster my pulse is raised
Harder and harder the pounding, the beat.
Tighter and tighter I clutch my head
Greater and greater, the feeling of dread.
……I’m lost.
“Why? Why?” I asked the mirthless grass
“Speak, speak!” I bark at mirrored glass
Angrier and angrier, my voice phonate
Wilder and wilder, my eyes gyrate
Darker and darker my thoughts evoke
Uglier and uglier my moods provoke
…..I weep.
'Non Compos Mentis' is my best state of mind
'Caveat Emptor'!! …as I cannot be kind
Nastier and nastier I’m down in the dumps?
Lower and lower I’m in the doldrums?
Crazier and crazier, I spit at my shadow
Weaker and weaker, …my life is so shallow!
….I pray!
“Come, come”, to only You I turn.
“Come, come”, my life is so forlorn.
Dearer and dearer my love for God
Stronger and stronger, my body, my soul
Forever and ever my faith shall hold
Redeemer, redeeming, The Lord God of old.
….I’m saved.
(The Fg 81.5.8)
Form:
This query of consent
the run a round is bent
a brightened acquisite
no needing, no resent!
Too scattered, as in Spring
through harshness fallaced bring
Ah, let these winds control me not
the error, from impinge!
If error, I've misplaced
your firmament more sure,
I've lost the best so needed
to qualify my nerve!
And seeming so abound
the constant is profound,
to know thyself unfetished
removes the waste's confound.
No license, no conjur
my walk now soft and pure
confesses with some atrophy
forrgotten, with a slur!
That equal strain survive
and make thyself demure
we constantly arrive
to only leave no cure!
Some difference mount in claim
and then toward its reward
that justice not the tiff
but only hope's accord!
All silence seems the sword
and then to what ~ insane
the hush marks are more futile
then all the loud shouts main!
What were we fighting for
the noise is so acquit,
my memory is dashing
about to make it fit!
'Twere better said than not
just say as though begot,
the center ring is hostile
my mind consume's self taught!
Exaction falls to rule
and hominess' consent
does edge away dual
complacencies resent!
This freedom to be heard
and then above the wind
exells o'er nature's spurred
the license ~ without sinned!
Daylight savings ends... Sunday
November 3, 2019
2:00 AM Eastern Standard Time.
Seasonal affective disorder clinical woe,
albeit depression associated,
edge of nightfall
dark shadows grow
most pronounced late
autumn and winter
outer limits of twilight zone
impinge psyche status quo
said phenomena doth
not affect this bro,
who believe me
you relished mucho
more hours without sunlight
think allegory of cave courtesy Plato
Socratic dialogue titled "The Republic,"
inferences intimating occupants
housed inside grotto
to speculate external environment,
they can never know
conjectures predicated courtesy
shadows moving to and fro,
hither and yon across subterranean walls,
albeit exaggerated sinister show
shape shifting humongous,
monstrous, riotous... silhouettes hello
kickstarting, instagramming,
flickering... torches diabolical
phantasmagoria make cameo
forked flamed tongues
evoke towering inferno
superstitions defeat braggadaccio,
no matter atheistic, cynic, stoic...
atavistic fears including vertigo
nausea, adrenaline... analogous
psyche unstrung like mama's yoyo
thankfully yours truly no
well coward as outsize claws...
plucks me to daylight
courtesy steely mettle, viz Geronimo!