Long Meadows Poems
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David wrote out many praises
To the One who holds the moon and stars
He penned many words and phrases
Sometimes they were filled with sobs
~
His words lifted the Lord to the heights
Of mountain tops and into the heavens
Giving him the honor for all the sights
Filled with God’s compassionate essence
~
His words applause God’s greatest blessings
With feelings of pure, tender affection
Reminding Him that He has given lessons
On where we need His Godly direction
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David wrote about the meadows and brooks
Wisdoms that come from inspired hopes
Words and pages that would fill up books
With gentle feelings that are ways he copes
~
His words were like a music to God’s ear
Telling Him of all that He’d given His friend
Words and psalms that only God could hear
Sweet kindness that would always amend
~
His words haunt the heart who does listen
For the joy and faith found within them
Fragrant verses that seem to simply glisten
With joys, peace and faith that are a gem
~
David wrote the writings that esteem the Lord
With perfect prose of sensations that warm
Tender compassions that should not be ignored
Because God is the reason we all should conform
Meet me back on those effervescent days;
Let’s swing on shafts of their lingering light,
Like our childhood hero in vine-borne flight,
Till we’re again in that sun-swaddled place,
Where once we were colts free to roam and race,
On meadows with dews of innocence bright,
And friendship’s rainbow arching every sight,
Before we were called to the adults’ maze.
Let us leap across the years, my dear friend;
Though our bodies may balk, our minds are lithe.
On the playground of our youth we shall land,
Where birds still kiss the sky, stingless bees hive,
And our mischief roiled through a drowsy glen
Whose slumber still our laughing echoes rive.
I look back at the dusty trail of memory,
in the reflecting time of the twilight hour,
see in the pediment of the distant blue hills,
cascading down from the hazy horizon,
the young scarlet sun burst to spread
the surreal splendor on the landscape latticed
with the carvings of meandered streams,
verdant meadows, transparent ponds,
thriving thickets and emerald vales.
My youth embedded in naïvety of juvenile exuberance,
fluttered on the wings of indigo songbirds,
scaling the cerulean sky like my multicolored kites,
flying free at the fringe of the fleeting clouds,
that made enigmatic shadows adrift on the topography,
sculpting my fantasy into nebulous shapes,
so expressive in the intricate play
of the opposites, light and shade,
like the pattern slanting sunbeams created
on the far flung foliage of the thicket
where I ventured to chase the butterflies.
The infantile motifs engraved in the ductile young mind
lie buried now under the dust of time,
that blew across the memory lane of the uprooted life.
Walking the last mile at the edge of the falling night,
I now trace back the faint footprint trail,
to the fading eroded plateau of the past,
sweep the piled up dust, trying to retrieve
the scattered pieces of my youth,
shrouded by the mist of obscurity.
August 2, 2020
Contest : Dusty Old Memory
Sponsor : Constance La France
I listen to the wind as it dries my tears
because its flowing current is wiser than all my years.
~ Quote by poet
Wind is never silent, echoing its cries
Sings in the night to stars in celestial skies
Stories are told upon the rushing wind
but in the telling, never does it feel chagrined.
Quicker than a heartbeat, it errantly flies.
Across mountain peaks its music is heard.
In harmony, I listen to every word.
I feel the cold of its temperate sting
and along with its beckoning lyrics, I sing.
When its message touches me, I am stirred.
In a gentle voice through meadows, it talks
Capturing my attention on morning walks
Inviting me along with flowers to take flight
to soar to the moon. I'd accept the invite
if I had pinion wings like eagles and hawks.
I listen to the wind as it howls without grace,
blows briny waves of saltwater in my face.
It speaks of love in such a solemn breath
In its stillness, sometimes I hear it mourning death.
I slip through the dark, sleek, lank and lean
shadowed, haze gray, red, white, blue unseen
'neath the faint light of distant moonbeam.
I creep cross the meadows, sands and moors
traversing streets and empty stores
unrecognized at your once open door.
I scan the horizon black and bleak
rest and comfort for a moment I seek
but all is want and need I meet.
I fought for you in foreign and domestic wars
freedom came and passed yet was abhorred
profit was the desire you fought for.
I am the life easily sacrificed for greater good
you claimed freedom was all for which you stood
while you took and benefited all you could.
I was a soldier strong, patriotic, brave
fighting for family, country and those enslaved
but now you barely tend my grave.
You look the other way taking freedoms away
and as I closed my eyes at the end of my days
you slipped into politics as a game you must play.
What was the point of being victor
when the world sought only peace as you just got richer
past histories should have been more accurate predictors.
A nation, no, a world on the edge of time
should live by reason, honesty and hope, not policy undefined
tyrant, dictator, oligarchy, monarchy rarely are benign
They send soldiers, volunteers, believers into the fire
to satisfy their own hidden desires
and the people quietly sink into quagmire.
Monologue of a chicken kept at automatic poultry farm.
*********************************************************
I am a chicken,
did your mouth water on hearing my name?
To you I am a delicacy, mere delicacy,
beyond that you never think about me.
Look at the conditions in which you have kept me,
this cage is too small for me,
I can't even move properly.
I give eggs everyday,
but you merciless creatures,
take them all away,
don't even leave one for me,
I watch helplessly,
this happens daily.
I shout and cry,
nothing melts your heart.
I used to think,
one day I will be running in meadows,
joyfully I will play,
dig the ground for worms,
enjoy every day.
I will sit on my eggs,
my young ones will come out,
I will take care of them till they are stout.
But now I understand,
it can never happen
I am totally struck up.
I have no thoughts,
no memories,
I am going mad sitting like useless here,
I tried breaking free,
it only hurt me,
I want to die,
but even that is dependent on humans.
I am powerless, helpless,
at the mercy of humans,
and they are heartless selfish creatures,
they have no feelings for others,
they cannot see beyond money.
Please God take me away,
please listen to me at least today,
I can no longer tolerate this life...
please atleast give sensitive hearts to humans,
so that they don't behave so in human!
I guess I have committed many sins here,
That's why even you are merciless!
I am a living creature,
I too want to live happily here,
please set me free,
I beg to you,
please set me free .
If you can't, at least slaughter me,
I want to die.
kill me,
please kill me.
PLEASE KILL ME
"Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along".
____________ By Rumi
Once there was eternal spring all around
With plants and flowers in multi hues and scents abound
Butterflies from here and there and places unseen,
Flitted back and forth in colorful sheen.
Birds sang tuneful songs of contentment.
Squirrels and bunnies hopped in spirits buoyant.
But now all along, I see trees- leafless and bare,
Nakedly shivering in winter’s chilly air.
Even when the Earth adorns in full glory,
Here I bide alone, so dull and dreary.
Oh! Dear! Why have you hurriedly left me?
Was it to make me drift aimless in this turbulent sea?
I tried and yearned to cling on to you for ever
But fate cruelly snatched from me my treasure
We used to walk through meadows gathering blooms
And roam aimless inhaling the air, the wind perfumes.
We watched life’s ceaseless ebb and flow.
We waited eager to grab life’s evanescent glow.
Now each wayside flower recalls to me your lovelorn face
And every withering petal reminds me of a bygone grace.
We have seen seasons quickly glide and shift.
In joy and sorrow months and years passed so swift.
But without you, I feel days move at snail’s pace.
No balm can ease my pain, nor time, my gloomy thoughts erase.
At times your sweet words create reverberations in my soul
And your ubiquitous presence makes me whole.
Deep in silent nights, the odor of your flowing hair,
Comes wafting, and for a while, I feel you quite near.
However far you are, I know within me you ever stay.
The sweet memories of our days together can never decay.
Though in worlds apart we stay and to a celestial realm you belong,
In thoughts and spirit, we are in each other all along.
When thoughts become obsessive,
is my heart being made redundant,
laid off, cast off, sent astray
recycled pulse rates mere skip hire fodder,
atrophied organ sinking into deep morass,
panic stricken warning notice object,
abject part indigenous scarred,
or scared from sudden rupture,
once a golden seal enactment,
the intensity of love and verdant pathways,
but thoughts they zigzag devious,
without a leash, curb or rein,
they stray like homeless after dark drifters
whose piercing blue eyes scupper vagrant mist,
but oh those torrid thoughts,
of past romantic Himalayan peaks,
where nostalgic loitering a back to front yen,
currency of tantalising moment,
fluctuating in a reckless high stake instrument,
cliff top shudder inadvertent plunge,
yet each thought I used to frolic with,
in meadows of a mythic mystic mind,
we’re so glare blind and delusional,
dragging me on circuitous dandelion epiphanies,
symbolising gurgle stream limestone cave exit,
some dual world attachment barely visible,
detachment on aloof scorched red wood boundary,
thoughts are like those joined at hip beings,
feeding off the actual mesmerizing carousel,
of fleeting guests and life events,
or so it seemed, perhaps it’s just a thought,
of all those things that never settle in one spot
In the Spanish language, it means “The Meadows”.
To this desert oasis, many a gambler goes.
There are hotels with restaurants and fabulous shows.
However, the biggest attraction is the casinos.
They drive from as far as Los Angeles and San Diego.
Plenty of cash is dumped in each casino.
With no more money, gamblers cannot roam.
There is no other place to go but home.
The one thing to do is to depart this scene.
Unfortunately, they need a tank of gasoline.
Filling stations have strange inventories of stock.
Penniless victims go there to pawn and hock.
There are watches, cameras, and diamond rings.
They have loads of gold jewelry and other things.
In the near future, these visitors will return.
History will repeat as if they will not learn.
A long-lasting friendship is a great river, flowing from a high and distant source. Its origin may be a mountain spring, a chance meeting in youth, or an unexpected turn in the landscape of life.
In its youth, the river rushes and tumbles over rocks, a torrent of shared laughter, inside jokes, and boundless energy. It carves its initial path with the force of shared experiences and the excitement of the unknown journey ahead. It is shallow then, easily rippled by small disagreements or the changing seasons of life, but its current is strong and true.
As it flows onward, the river deepens and broadens. The rushing energy settles into a steady, reliable current. It winds through meadows of peace and reflection, and carves through canyons of hardship and sorrow. Sometimes the river faces obstacles: dams of distance, drought of inattention, or the branching off into different professional or personal tributaries.
Yet the main current persists, finding a way around or through, its direction constant. Tributaries join along the way, new friends and family enriching the flow, but the core river remains. The water that began as a spring is now a deep, powerful body, a life source for the surrounding landscape. It is a mirror reflecting the passing clouds of joy and the storm clouds of sadness.
In its maturity, the river becomes an estuary, vast and calm, where fresh water meets the salt of time and memory. The journey has shaped the banks and the land around it, creating a rich ecosystem of mutual support, shared history, and unwavering trust. The destination is not a precipitous fall into an end, but a grand, peaceful merging with the great sea, where the individual current becomes part of the endless, timeless ocean of enduring connection.