Long Insouciant Poems
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A dark blue midnight awning has its portrait,
etched by a a starlit silver lustrous galaxy,
silhouette of black lace frilled clouds,
in somber quietude adrift beneath a vibrant pearl,
amber moon whose gleaming radiance bemused awhile,
at the stark underbelly of flickering candles,
that the urban nocturne spellbound revel in perchance,
sleep pattern held captive by ethereal bliss,
angelic dreams wrapped in opal tincture,
what optic relishes await at early first light,
a colourfast dawn unveils it’s bronze bespoke banner,
heaven bound yellow flare insouciant whim,
red orange burst sky a stirring presage,
for wingspan flight of stone gray plume creature,
natural world usher whose gold throat cadence,
rouses wonderment among the persimmon trees,
tapping into human yearning for awestruck omen,
Kashmir bright velvet hue azimuth a scant gem,
yet sapphire orb twinkles close or distant lure
might embolden dull minds with ardent spark
"Bildungsroman"
childish things
become children
the sweetness
leaves them
when the dream
in reality leaves them
to walk hand in hand
with the nightmare
of what becomes
us as adults
protagonists are
sometimes heroes
sometimes villains
inside us all dwells
a versatile shadow
we save ourselves
by extracting
the unwanted
familial
in our marrow
antagonists
challenge the
villain in our heroes
we are torn in two
walking down
the middle path
a territorial line
safe and blunt
drawn from
the grey of
sharp black being
and null white seeing
dull dotted lines
wanting erasure
signatures
we are footprints
walking out
all our contracts
time stipulated, then
broken
for better or
worse
driven to Bildungsroman
a complacent district
insouciant
no longer kicking
and screaming
tokens passed
between malleable
lips, minds slipping
softly
marshmallow
into the long kiss
good night
children again,
dreaming
becomes us
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"A Dream About You" / Airshade, Dreamscape
https://youtu.be/lt0_ql7duDg
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bildungsroman
In the laundry room are bags
And boxes from the past,
Filled with photos, books and papers
That I have amassed.
Today I went through one such bag
And in a tied-up stack
Were the wedding cards we’d gotten
Over forty-nine years back.
I read each one and there were names
I did not recognize,
Plus notes from students in my class,
Which came as a surprise.
Another cool discovery -
A work I’d been assigned,
Describing speakers in a course
And how they’d tapped my mind.
The hand-writ ten page paper,
Which I shared and read aloud,
Was insightful and insouciant
And made me feel quite proud.
It’s nice to get a little glimpse
(And more so as you age)
Of a younger you and how you were
At such a different stage.
Monotonous keyboards clicking
Redundant clocks ticking
Phones ringing, elevator doors swinging
Coffee pots brewing, vending machines spewing
Insouciant workers, carefree shirkers loitering
Clerks, secretaries previewing, managers reviewing
Visitors on stairs, in lobby chairs, lines queuing
Fate's dissonant chords o'er content hordes teeming
From Crescent's waning moon, spell of doom flinging
Across availing sky, a wailing strain is stringing
A portentous raven o'er torrentous swells winging
To his charted course, a venal force with guile clinging
Feral beast an imminent peril to prey quickly bringing
On the ethereal cusp perching, for crown jewel searching
Swooping down with force, beams from foundation divorce
Death's shadow in dust o'er screaming remnants streaming
Night's, palling darkness Day's ordained glint stalling
i never wonder why i love you
why animals can migrate with no map
why do some moths as well as butterflies
able to choose wings up or down
yet they never vary in their species
the sun rises in the East
the full moon is gravid with romance
birds innately build nests without a blueprint
nary a lesson, born with their own song
all of these things point to a natural order
of what is and meant to be
that which is tried and true
what has worked thru the ages
what most of all endures
when i am holding you
my arms feel filled beyond measure
everything in this world is where it belongs
i love you because i belong with you
as does the evening's song to the nightingale
come morning the lark's duty to sing dawns' glory
the roosters claim upon the rising sun
a mockingbird's mating call fills the darkness
i see the natural order that surrounds my life
i never feel a reason to wonder why
you belong with me and i with you
the Earth and Moon, lip to lip
in a celestial dance, lost in each others' gaze
insouciant to a surrounding universe
it is said that if you never had a question
you will never need an answer
and when i look into your eyes
i never see a why i see every reason
of why i love you
9/18 Kismet
There's a love that's divine
and it's yours and it's mine like the sun
And at the end of the day
we should give thanks and pray
to the One, to the One
Have I told you lately that I love you
Have I told you there is no one else above you
written by Van Morrison
from the song
Have I Told You Lately That I Love You
While the waves lash the shores and splash in soft music
The dishes we serve here in this Golden Grain restaurant
Emanate aroma into the nostrils a pungent sweet exclusive
Have you visited this earlier too or how are you insouciant
A sip of sweetly sour sea food clear soup with tofu in your mouth
While on your hair the wind from the Arabian Sea plays its tickles
As you change your seat for the cool wind coming from the south
Our gracious waiters serve you mouth watering sea food pickles
Tasting the cheesy tuna salad as you share your moments with sea
The boundless sky above invites you to look at its cracked blue art
We are mystified if we will have the listen and sight or have the glee
In Sorpotel with rice, the Goan cuisine we must take to fill our heart
Made of pork in spices coconut vinegar and green chillies
Sorpotel is the essence of Christian gastronomy of Goa
The pungent and little salty flavor will without doubt ease
Your fatigue and more so if you take chunks of chilly soya
To which delight you will employ your perception is
A challenge as your eyes are amazed at the sight of
Seagulls in front of the restaurant leaving the breeze
Have become scavengers in their wing-spread hops
There is the all time favourite basil leaf spread lovely
Pizza dough of Phoenix with a crisp but chewy crust
Made by our chef himself who learned his art at Italy
Sweet salty pizza margheritta of ours take you must
Bebinca you all have to take in its full seven saffron layers
Get the personification of Goan spirit in this unique dessert
While listening to and looking at the splashy music players
Nonetheless your taste buds seek the sweet food for a flirt
Golden Grain is a golden moment in the golden sea beach
Do step in and taste the food with waves within your reach
_____________________________________________________
9/9/2016
For My imaginary restaurant - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
Truly those days were fun,
Little children playing each,
With a fine decorated toy gun,
Life was serious yet catchy;
And we were easily convinced
‘ Sit back, I will buy you Akara’,
Was enough to pacify and evinced.
I can still peep through the silhouette,
Of throwing stones at Mango fruit,
And playing with a plate of omelette,
Those hid and seek games in the rain,
Truly those days were fun,
We went on errands without gain,
Whether it was under the sun!
And when a person died in the hays,
Goosebumps, fear sits in the air;
I can’t forget those jannock days,
As fear was harbored, decency was the heiress
An old woman could tell her daughters,
“Do not touch or allow a man touch you,
For when you do, you will be in a family way:”
I wish to go back to those days in decipher,
For the imagination of her dream, is not new.
These days;
Even a seer can’t see what a teen talks,
And behold, they are all on Tiktok,
Staring at things our fathers only but imagined,
And when you tell them to face their books,
Oh God! They are on Facebook,
These days, decency is just but a crime,
And when you see it, we call it archaic;
Mothers that should do their job,
Are their, on the sad side of Instagram,
Influencing in their nude paraphernalia!
Majority of these parents will taste,
Eli’s strength, a sad reality disguising,
And truly this age is punctured;
And it is bleeding in black jars,
Where then should I start the tale from,
Truly the beat has changed;
Leaving us naked in the daylight;
Where is our morality forte?
Even the news of these days,
Does not sit well with the mind...
It is either abduction, manslaughter,
Banditry, and all those odd news,
I’m debilitated and would want,
To go back to those days!
My eyes are witness to this insouciant.
A dark blue midnight awning has its portrait,
etched by a starlit silver lustrous galaxy,
silhouette of black lace frilled clouds,
in somber quietude adrift beneath a vibrant pearl,
amber moon whose gleaming radiance bemused awhile,
at the stark underbelly of flickering candles,
that the urban nocturne spellbound revel in perchance,
sleep pattern held captive by ethereal bliss,
angelic dreams wrapped in opal tincture,
what optic relishes await at early first light,
a colourfast dawn unveils it’s bronze bespoke banner,
heaven bound yellow flare insouciant whim,
red orange burst sky a stirring presage,
for wingspan flight of stone gray plume creature,
natural world usher whose gold throat cadence,
rouses wonderment among the persimmon trees,
phasing into human yearning for awestruck omen,
Kashmir bright velvet hue azimuth a scant gem,
yet sapphire orb twinkles close or distant lure
might embolden dull minds with ardent spark
As the second hand ticks away my breaths
a half-clad moon catches my eye.
Was a time when I might've seen
the ghost of half-eaten melon,
but I'm older now, my thoughts less spry.
Dark fear's hobgoblins
were long since relegated
to memory's chuckle drawer;
open windows to warm nights ease my mind.
I must shave and write.
Neither seem as pressing
as the once hormone-inducing prance
in distant starlight,
the hot exhalations of desert air.
Nor do creased page corners
to detective thrillers and t.v.'s prattle
beckon hours with purpose.
I'm the insouciant sentry
at castles in retirement,
the dragon minus annoying fire.
Crows no longer pick eyes of the dead
in picture frames on paneled walls.
My shoes don't guardedly tread
engineered woods of perfection.
Aging brings a basset hound,
graying around the nose,
laying placidly on the rug.
I'll get to tasks eventually.
For now I commune with the moon,
allowing my mind the idyll
of a worn desk in a cluttered room
and the dulcet laze in lyrics of night birds
serenading summer's first hours.
6/19/18
My soul had long been troubled...
by hatred,
dejectIon
and contempt.
They were the poisons
that flowed red in my veins,
burning like wildfire from my head to my toes,
as if this world were inhabited by demons:
that have teeth instead of fangs,
tongues instead of flickers,
and take delight in loading tears with sorrow.
But from that day you responded to my greetings,
the heavy burden life placed on my mind...
was lifted by your single show of love,
such that I am full of smIles,
joy and grace.
Your love is the lubricant:
that greased the torpedoes
fired from the mouth of haters...
the balm that soothes
the wounds my foes inflicted...
a calm for all my affliction.
You became my protective shield ~
that the fashioned weapons of enemies
became like blunt sticks...
landing with no impact,
no pain,
no repercussions —
more of a toothless bulldog.
My machine needs more of your lubricant, sweet baby,
be my lifeblood,
giving a kiss without a hiss,
that invisible driver
that rolls sorrow into the abyss,
needing no assist to resist ~
evil over good —
an emolument as my emollient.
I can't just be insouciant
to your love being my life's lubricant.
It is like trying to recant
all the toxicants
that hatred had previously injected in my life.
So let the lubrication
brought to oil the machine of my love
never dry,
let it run through my system:
cleansing every trace of hatred left behind.
Reborn my soul.
Redefine my purpose...
my eternal lubricant.