Long In laws Poems
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~esoteric~
The story is retold with great relish
Its the great chief who precipitated
The great war by his love endeavors
Its the great chief who led us to war
The great chief loved the royal princess
Sister to Mariaka making her pregnant
Shamed for conceiving out of wedlock
She committed the abominable suicide
Mariaka was now to ascend the throne
After her beloved sister had departed
She asked for gifts from the great chief
Which great chief you delayed in bringing
Mariaka was angry at you great chief
Saddened by the loss of her elder sister
She took the advice of the malicious elders
In the war she aided the imperialist enemy
Troops of warriors from Mariaka's tribe
Aided the colonizers in fighting our people
Our own in-laws fighting us to great losses
Loss of life and the sanity of our people
Great chief you were unable make peace
And the war raged fierce in the slopes
Be my force once again.. never shall be
For great chief this time round you did it
My jeans I’d wear, twirling in the air
the cousins, loved those kids; I’d
see them hardly ever, flying, laughing,
rising. Mother couldn’t understand
the wriggling out of the purple dress;
nails were temporarily permanent,
bought in Poughkeepsie, when it
was safe for teenagers to shop by
themselves.
In thirty plus years,
my daughter-in-law would be approached
and encroached upon; she’d chase off
the ho-supplier. Not far, not far at all
from my childhood neighborhood.
My friend and I look at jewelry, but buy
an assortment of polishes for our eyes
and nails. Purple would fill the nailbed,
on the unwrinkled, no need to iron hands.
Could I explain,
time, cannot be bottled;
tears jeans, cracks nails, hammers.
Could I imagine a son, a daughter-in-law;
not a thought
unless we played the game
of
crisscross.
We’d write down places, numbers, names of boys,
- we’d see where we’d live, how many kids, and
find out who we’d marry,
no one
expected me
to fly
militar-ily
find that guy
who followed me
to places
in disguise.
In purple skies
at cross purposes
we intersect
I now know - where, how many, his name, and more.
Simpler days, would I return the polish and the friend?
I remember the celebration, followed by the divorce.
I remember his daughter, at five - she’d survive
his death. I’d not forfeit the purple polish - in the end,
before my marriage, three kids, in-laws, grands;
I’d not sail away from Sandy - I’d play a game;
it’s been a long, long, long time since we sat
in our grandparent’s house, in her Dad’s absence,
and behaved as cousins, fourteen years apart.
Grandpa called us all
Sons and daughters of the old lion
To the cave of the great tiger
His father
Like Jacob meeting his Israelite sons
He gathered us all
As we sat at his feet and listened
To words springing from an ancient pond
Grandpa blessed his grands
With Wealth
With Marriage
With Victory
With Laughter
Everyone was smiling
I was also smiling
Til he called my name
Like he usually ended his long speeches
My son, we all knew he meant me
Not my his in laws
Not even his sons my mum's brothers
My son, he would call three times as i responded on each call
I will not bless you
Grandpa announced
Guilt of whatever i had done possessed me
For you i will curse
My old friend affirmed
Your tongue will utter destiny
His curses begun like the rise of locusts
Your years will be more than mine
And your battles more
Till you slay the monster i never saw
Your thoughts will flow like the great river
Your fingers will write
All the wisdom and wit of your ancestors;
Words for nations and generations
Your zeal will be your meal
For you I can never bless
Which beast blesses a fellow beast
The great tiger never blessed the ancient lion
You i will never bless but Curse you with all my strength
For a curse is stronger than a blessing
You are cursed my son
To dream for nations
To think for more than you can handle
To yield than you can sow
For in this curse i hide my blessings
For you son
Go with your curse
For you should never see the lion again
Then grandpa died
Leaving me cursed
As i am now
19 when I got married,
claimed that I was his world his love.
if only I knew... love so bitter it had to be my mother-in-laws' early coffee
it's absurd - the comparison I mean.
judging from her sweet pollen gestures, wolf in sheep's clothing I tell you,
she wasn't the only one with a mask.
I've had my fair share of pearls tea and gossip.
a silver serpent caging me from the inside, of course no one knew about it.
I can't find my notes but I think he might,
it makes no difference to me though,
it's about time he learns he has competition,
might make him love me more,
might bring me closer to 6 cushioned wood walls,
might bring me some peace.
what is peace anyways? why love when loss is guaranteed?
lower your expectations, it minimises the pain.
love me when it's relevant.
I don't know if I've actually had enough of it all or not?
Best man, maid of honor,
Father of the bride.
Toss the bouquet and the garter,
Groomsmen on the side.
In-laws, photographers, caterers…
Don’t forget to tip the waiters.
DJ stage, reception hall,
Gold bands, first dance, pillar to post….
And now a toast:
Here’s to prideful selfishness and petty vanities.
Those rocks and shoals can wreck your ship.
Suspicions will harbor resentment
And threaten your future contentment.
Be careful as you navigate your way.
Here’s to unresolved childhood issues
And deep-seated jealousies.
They can sabotage your happiness
And lead to endless miseries.
Beware these hidden dangers every day.
Here’s to poor communication
And a lack of empathy.
Emotional projections
That highlight imperfections…
The disrespect that only leads to tears.
Here’s to blissfulness and diligence,
Tolerance and vigilance,
Wedding rings and lovers’ knots,
Champagne and caveats.
Cheers!
The Story of Every Daughter
They say a daughter has two homes, One — her mother’s house, where her childhood roams,From birth until the day she’s wed,That first sweet home where her dreams are fed.
The other home is called her in-laws’,Where after marriage she follows life’s laws,Till her final breath, that is her stay,Her joys and tears live there each day.
That journey from her parents’ side,
Carries a silent ache she hides,
Those tender moments she recalls,
Bring quiet tears that softly fall.
She wonders — how did she grow apart?
From parents once so close to her heart.
Now her childhood home feels far away,A place she visits on festive days.
She learns to nurture every tie,
To give and take, to compromise,
Before, she shopped just for her delight,Now she chooses for others with care and sight.
Once carefree and light at heart,
Marriage makes responsibility her part,No one taught her how to be strong,Life itself showed her all along.
A daughter’s path is rarely light,
More emotional than outward fight,
Each time she breaks, she weeps in pain,Yet rises stronger again and again.
This is the story of every girl,
Of silent strength in an unseen world,She falls, she heals, she stands anew,And finds her power shining through.
Though joyousness impaled,
albeit skewered over poker hot coals
courtesy roaring fiery
molten psychological magma
kindling sparks incinerate
nonetheless inchoate coalescence
asserts, damned feeble endeavor
fostering, glomming, harking
futile hellbent fixation manifests
imperceptible yearning inclination
atavistic aspiration toward archangel
fleetingly overrides pathos
prevalent within pathetic psyche
regarding mental health
linkedin to mein kampf
oft times erratically spiraling
courtesy grievous gravitational heaviness
simultaneously tripping hair trigger
well targeted landmines cratering
impacting cerebral spheres
out of the blue er...
rather fifty plus shades of gray
egregiously, demonically, catastrophically
blasting aching dormant sentimentality
good times with mine
then adoring little girls
sentimentality mythologized
instantaneously vaporized
i.e. hotmail kamikaze outlaws
indistinguishable from in laws
deep seated bombardiers
devastatingly explode
housed deeply within
subterranean nooks and crannies
loosed blade runners
likened figurative windmills spin
madly maxed out
ache'n throb exhausts me
frenzied furious fitbits,
while archenemies incessantly lob
hand grenades pepper spray
senselessly, shamelessly, spectacularly
strafing third eye blind
quickly, nee instantaneously pulverize
incinerating insight into bajillion little pieces
also vaporizing sanity
into smithereens
futile writing relief,
a weathered vane effort
undermined attempts
to accrue spiritual succor
analogous to volcanic bombs
raining nsync with deadly earthquake
forlorn hope for salvation nil!
Changing Identities
I was born as a son to my mother and
Grew as brother to my sisters
I gained knowledge as a student and
I moved with my dears as a friend
I rushed behind the money as a worker and
married a girl as her husband
I had sons and daughters as a father and
Chased many businesses as a topper
I had son and daughter in laws as an In law and
followed the words of nobles as a follower
I prayed my lords as a devotee and
hold a stick, wore a glass as an oldman
I was taken as a procession in bed as a body and
burnt in to ashes as a Hasthi
I am now in the air as air
Who am I? My Lord !in this world
Created me with a lot of changing identities
Hasthi is the ash of human body come after funeral it will be mixed with in the
Holy rivers to fulfill the life of a human soul
"It happens just because we need to want, and to be wanted too, when love is here or gone to lie down in the darkness and... listen to the warm.” -Rod McKuen
Listen to the Warm
Listen to the Warm.
Two souls in love makes one;
memory of walking side by side
holding each other's hand
nourishing closeness and intimacy.
I was just sixteen, young and innocent,
but a woman grown, very much in love,
you were twenty-one and a gentleman.
We were committed to listen to our soul,
and bringing out the best in each other.
Our love grew like a dream that had come true
with warmth of body and spirit entwined
roots a part of this world filled with promise.
We shared such a closeness in our new home,
arms around each other beneath the stars.
You would be so gentle not to break me
with your sweet soft kisses and embraces
under the heavens studded with bright stars.
As time passed, our home started feeling small.
We'd listen to the sounds of our children’s bare feet
running through narrow halls as our family grew.
Our world was a world perfect,
there was nowhere else I wanted to be,
but holding hands. Until our children grew
and one by one started to leave our home.
Through our golden years we learned
it was a different world, with precious memories.
It was just the two of us listening
to whispers of children throughout our home.
Then one day, you became ill;
memories of the past started to fade.
Holding you were the only things I wanted to do
and feel your gentle sweet kisses like we
used to share under the sweet dark night sky.
Now my days spent listening to the warm.
I kneel, lay a bouquet of fragrant white lilies
where you lie shedding silent tears.
5/9/2016
This is dedicated to my loving in-laws Dennis & Marcy Johnston both passed
Contest: Listen To The Warm
Sponsor: Laura Loo
What have you done to us my child?
I tore my body to bring you here
He wetted his shirt with sweat to ink your books
23 years of learning gave you a well-paying job
Your job gifted you a high held head.
Then what has gone wrong with you my child?
We chose a man to take your hand
We mistook that he makes your life a merry-go-round.
He used your beauty, brain and brass.
But that doesn't mean you have to suffer all the loss.
Did I give you birth to offer you as a prey on someone else's plate?
Couldn't our blood instil courage in you that you surrendered your life to the fear of a demon?
Didn't your red belt remind you that you are a fighter?
Why hasn't your education given you confidence to face life's challenges?
Why hasn't your job given you courage to live an independent life?
The walls of the dark room shouted beyond their limits to stop you
The wooden cupboard tried its best to hide the bottle from you
The locked door tried to break open its latch to show the world your cowardice
The flickering lamp's attempts to ignite your mind proved to be powerless.
When the eyes of your 2-year old search for you in the middle of the night,
how should I tell that the greed of her dad gulped her mother's breath?
When your father madly waits for you over the weekend,
how should I convince him that his bold daughter has boldly ended her life?
When your friends look for a shoulder to lean on,
how should I tell them that you burnt your body beyond recognition?
When my heart wants to kiss your forehead and hug you,
how should I show it the powdered you resting in that copper canister?
I tell all the daughters out there
Your life is not your wicked blackmailing boyfriend
Your life is not your selfish husband nor your greedy in-laws
Your life is not your snatched virginity
Your life is not a dowry case on the cop's table
Your life is your courage, it should stand as an inspiration.
Your life is your identity, it should set an example.
Your life is YOU.
Your life is YOU.
Your blood is yours, don't let it flow for the foolish.
Your bones are yours, don't crush them under their greedy paws.
You belong to YOU and not to anyone else.