Long Mildly Poems
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July 25th, 1996 tied the Gordian knot,...
(I spent noose cents)
begot deux daughters, the major events
both since flew cuckoo's nest,
the eldest angry at papa for offense
sieve behavior fatherly bond
forever sundered permanent rents
unforgiving progeny vents
bile, explosive vitriol whence...
Aye yen for bachelorhood every
now and again doth mildly abate
after saying "I do...,"
when axed by justice of peace
nearly two dozen years wedded
bull hissing, rest assured
I will abbreviate
encapsulate, fulminate, narrate...
and forthrightly admit,
yours truly oft times
yearned to abdicate
spousal unbridled warfare and injustice
reason enough to abnegate
null and void husbandry role
ex post facto finding thyself
questioning pledging troth even
Frosty the snowman would abominate
to say "screw this -
marriage nut for me"
bolt in a huff boot (dang)
ne'er did absquatulate
altercations that adhere
to rule of physics
and tended to accelerate
as muzzled, neigh saying saddled
former groom did
lament and accentuate
his physical needs,
she did not accommodate,
cuz this solitary soul
(with good n plenti horse sense),
never did fully acculturate
with female species,
one whose blunt cold front
seemed to accumulate growing
gripe list bestowed courtesy this mate
tit for tat wrathful pitiless,
(not so cherry) feedback unmatched
within annotated coupled courtship of fools,
this scrivener with steely
iron maiden breastplate,
nonetheless did rack up and accumulate
battle scars hitting bullseye,
since donned with
corrective vision spectacles
hen pecking, needling termagant
untameable shrew did acerate
(worse fate than death -
validated by grim reaper)
avowed covenant thru torturous years
exponentially punishing innocent soul
(slightly biased) did acervate
popping one after
another over the counter acetylsalicylate,
no ampule adequate
to relieve permanent suffering,
thus lifetime electric shock treatment,
nsync quaffing prescription
kool aid battery acidulate
ineffective to activate
palliative, and restore
liberty (yeah) sense and sensibility
subsequently providing freedom
against further wifely scourges
whereby Doctor Phil Ander
refused to adjudicate,
perhaps understandable why I advocate
selfless mercy killing (euthanasia)
for this urbane country bumpkin.
I was sleeping and dreaming, silently screaming, while violently weeping And mildly feeling that I was honestly grieving I was quitely greeting my anxiety's breathing It was wildy eating at who I was... I could see through the mirrior he was frustrated Feeling devestated, felt isolated, feeled truly aggravated Did I mention the love and hatred upon his eyes Or even the soul teared through a genocide A gemini inside, but set aside he felt terrified But through the lies disguised in your mind He was ultimately petrified...It was you that was scarier then ever, even his barrier Now I'm flying high like a harrier, with you i'm more marrier Was it scary cause of your terror, or your character? See I truly miss you miss, you're a beautiful beautious Broken and brutal, but with you I see what beauty is I love it, cause you're so humorous, is it obvious? I'm operating this auto race Just for you, I'd be dominating...I'd be going pedal to the metal, just till it's settled I just want to win a medal, I'm feeling kind of dreadful I've even beaten my only devil, going crazy, am I mental? Nah, it's where I extract scratched tangets and you stare vast in past pamphlets And you have no answers for your last math's classes, within exams I see you vanishing You close your eyes and drift in planets'n'canvases, and you crash in crafted canyons That clash with granite and imagitive paniced bandits with a habit that granted An attached handprint that reflected my poetic languages They call us anguished animals, but I pass on my damages, on through these messages See I may look different with my clothes that are charred and almost carved off I'm scorching like dark hearts, and warped like barked bronze Can you see I was meant for journalling? I'll be discerning them, as they see me surfacing I'll just be surging in, and it's you that i'd prefer to bring even out of all these earth-a-lings I hope it's permenant, you showed me what my purpose is, I needed the encouragement It was a form of your subtle perfectness, is it courteous that you bring me nervousness? Right now, you got me prouder then, all my extended ends, it's pride from you that i'm conjuring in.... Your loves got me flying high in your turbulence, it's a superb inherent gift, I don't think I could picture it, It has me feeling one with the churches and all my burning urges end...
winds chill the bones and rattle the teeth of the those who dare stand in the cold,
when there's a shield blocking the chills, the cold seeps in; drowning me in a unbearable
quilt of
frigid cold. i can't escape. i try and i can't, i look for the one i see in my dreams when
i sleep,and the one who appears in front of my eyes when i'm awake.
his touch is warm and thrilling, his voice is like satin against the bare skin of a
child. his hair is twisted silk, blond; shades of wheat that glimmer the sun's rays when
the sun itself rains down upon him. it's him that appears to me when i sleep and again
when i wake, the feeling of being watched is haunting; i feel as i'm trapped most days,
with only my dreamer to talk to. only sometimes, i say.
some say that one who talks to themselves is mildly crazy or just insane; that they should be locked
up someplace where dreams are choking nightmares and warmth is sucked dry into chilling
winds. turning bones into icicles and teeth into rattlers. that's what i see in the eyes
and many faces of the people that pass me by, and see that i'm speaking to no one that
they see, but, maybe, some one that i see.
and someone i see is tall, strong, and exotic. hair; different shades of wheat, eyes;
shocking and sad, and his voice, satin --soothing, soft like silk against skin. caressing
it. this is who i see, it's who i speak to when i'm alone, and to whom i sing to. he is
light and nothing bad can happen in his presence. he makes anyone feel special and
intoxicates them with his luscious and enthralling scent.
Mm .....pine and lilac; rose and freesia, lovely. it's a scent that should be bottled and
sold, but also, not. it's his scent, and his alone.
he seems like a dream, but at the same time, he seems real. maybe, he's an apparition of
a person in the past and came to me seeking help, seems to be. whatever he is; i can't
wait to see him again, tonight i will sleep. and i will see him reach out to me and hold
me in his arms. singing softly in my ear. then i will wake, and he will be in front of my
lids again. smiling a white toothed grin; both infectious and intoxicating; and reach for me.
to most, he's a day dream. a figure that shows me what i want, but, it's hard to think
logically about him. he's mine....my mate in a way. yes, my mate.
The Untold story of a Sitar 1 of 3
.
.
Few days back
I got hold of a strange gift
Of an old and slightly broken antique Sitar
It must be older than
Seven to eight decades
Or maybe it came to see the first light
On Earth
Around a century ago. 01
.
My heart was throbbing and almost jumping
To think and imagine
That I posses something
Of unprecedented beauty and melody
With an untold story
Still breathing
In its heart. 02
.
Thinking that I may get success
In adding again
A replacement of those
Strings and knobs
Which may bring back
All its missing tunes and music
Which the Sitar has lost
With the passing
Of many decades of time
When the Sitar got forlorn and neglected
And gradually
It lost some of its most essential
And dear body parts. 03
.
One day I was watching it minutely
To appreciate
The beauty of this antique Sitar
When I suddenly found
A name ‘Tan’ written
On one of its broken keys
And unknowingly
I began to anticipate
That with the perhaps
With the passing of time
The Sitar would have shifted
From the soft hands
Of its first owner
Whose name was perhaps ‘Tan’. 04
.
And surprisingly
This name ‘Tan’ was still
Faintly visible
Written on one of the broken knob
Of that antique Sitar
Which I happened to posses now. 05
.
I imagined and presumed
That perhaps
It’s unseen owner Tan
May had left that beauty mark
By writing her unique lovely
Name ‘Tan’
Which still appears to be
Singing silently and shining dimly
After many ignored decades
The untold love story of Tan. 06
.
That faintly written name
Appeared to me
As the last impression and effort
Of a beautiful skilled
Musician woman in love
To immortalize her name & musical lore’s
By mildly engraving that name
On one of the knob
Of this beautiful Sitar
Which for me was
No less precious
Then the Grecian Urn
Which was spreading the same
Beauty and stillness
With a difference
That the Sitar was still capable
To reproduce
The vibrations of all those sweet melodies
Which got lost on this unique
Musical instrument of the last century
With the passing and change of time. 07
Ravindra
Kanpur India 13th April 2016
Hooray for Captain Spaulding...
though he played only a cameo role
helping me secure corrective eyewear I sport
mucho gratitude to all parties involved
including the missus,
cuz she needed to shuttle me
to and from hither and yon,
wherever I needed to go,
cuz entire bill paid
(including thorough examinations and lenses -
the frames repurposed
from one used many moons ago)
courtesy AETNA Medicare Advantra
in tandem with superb
ocular optometrist Doctor Paul Halpern,
that would be an unpaid for plug
touting outstanding kickass knowhow
insync with his offbeat good humor
without making a spectacle of himself.
Many insightful revolutionary breakthroughs
linkedin to gamut of intelligent people,
whose exhaustive mental,
physical and spiritual efforts
witnessed visually impaired
(shortsightedness affected wordsmith
since he entered second grade
at Eagleville Elementary School
circa approximately mid nineteen sixties)
and anticipated him being called
mildly derogatory name four eyes,
thus withheld donning glasses
at the expense of lackluster marks
for that half year, cuz parents moved
to 324 Level Road
initially R(oute) D(elivery)
until Donald Neilson
(if memory serves me
more correctly than spelling
of his surname, and "The Idler Wheel
Is Wiser Than the Driver of the Screw
and Whipping Cords Will Serve You
More Than Ropes Will Ever Do" by Fiona Apple),
and yesterday November 12th, 2024
happily, proudly, and zealously wears glasses
to see the webbed wide world crystal clear.
Post cataract surgery,
about couple months
after consultation at Kremer Eye Center
and finally came to figurative juncture
whereat (drum roll please...)
prescription adjusted eyeglasses
now sit squarely on my button nose -
as long as I hold them there with a finger
until cosmetic surgeon affixes a bump
on the bridge of said nose
analogous to the song titled
I can see clearly now the rain is gone
I can see all obstacles in my way
(courtesy Johnny Nash,
who raked in quite a bit of cash)
to drive our 2020 Hyundai Elantra
after dark shadows slink and slither
along the edge of night
encompassing an ever widening berth,
where the outer limits
meld with swathes of the twilight zone.
In my New York suburb, I’m mildly fond
Of Helvellyn Road, and Gracemere pond
But the original Helvellyn called...
Ravenglass too, even the name enthralled.
Of Lake poets, I eagerly read
And I found what Alfred Wainright once said:
[chorus]
His words echo across time’s bridge
That always there will be the lonely ridge,
the silent forest, the dancing beck
Though we have fleeting time on a cosmic speck.
Wordsworth thought the loveliest spot ever found
was near Grasmere Lake so I walked it around.
I beat the crowd to the top of Scafell Pike
Saw crags on all sides, what not to like?
Saw the Mourne mountains across the Irish sea
Snowdonia in Wales, steeped in history.
Wordsworth liked walking when mists veiled the sky,
Mists add variety, they distort, they magnify.
Hugging emerald meadows and tarns and becks
The mist lifts, to glorious backdrop effects.
I've often gone to where the grapevine led,
And I remembered what Wordsworth said:
[chorus]
One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
than all the sages can.
I'd like to be on an airy ridge, seeing far
It would be cool to climb steps up a limestone scar
then stride to a big-sky panorama
Maybe join a fell runner, in nature's drama.
Follow Wordsworth where the rugged trail led
Recite once more what the poet said:
[chorus]
A deep delight the bosom thrills
Of these fraternal hills:
On top stones like bones the earth left alone,
But on those stones lichen has grown
Colored between the rocks and sky
The Lake District kind of high.
At the foot of Saddleback, while its brow appeared
A sad purple before cloud-shadow cleared
To the left I saw the jaws of Borrowdale
On the pure lake a standing man with a windswept sail.
There’s a confession I should make
The trip to Cumbria I could not take
I could only watch videos on my PC
Experiencing the region vicariously.
I make room in my mental space
For the good times of those who visit the lakes.
I think of sunset on a ridge, a hiker’s face aglow,
And that somewhere this exists is comforting to know.
An imagined eyrie where spirits fly
And fell runners reach that Lake District high.
I'm deeply trouble and that maybe saying it mildly. Of all the war's of the world,
"World of War's", to what's been proven? I can not comprehend. Cann't wait to
Kill someone, "the rise and fall of mankind causes such a seperation, that the peo-
ple lost its best friend. ~Creator~ And still-after all the bombshell and the unbib-
licle need for power. Monday morning our four (****) General call your's (Russia,
Germany, Japan) and ask him!!! "cann't We all just be friend's". I'm trouble deeply,
from minute to the hour. ~Power~ "The Trouble with Dying, is that we forget to
live". Now it's (Tuesday) yeah-God still has the (Power). Wednesday come, the
weather is extremily cold ~outside~ the deep trouble of my thought's bring on de-
pression-no rest for the weary soul. Why be ~defeated~ O'Weary soul, "is that we
live and he gives ~Life~ to the many that are dying. But by ~Thursday~ they see
their zone of comfort ~inside them spiritually~ and on the outside in the "Cold".
The Trouble with Dying is the wage's of Sin is death", ~Creator~ the sustainer of
life rewards the Mom's and the Pop's, sister and brothers we're all destine to met him
again ~Holy Spirit~ to me he like sunshine that shall last forever and (ever)...
The Trouble with Dying, is that we forget to live, Russia, Germany, Japan you have
made ~imprints~ in the sand. But in the nd who shall carry you! U.S.A. that include
you too. For I'm deeply trouble on this hour, and trouble is on every corner. All coun-
try that were mention "will your weapons of mass-destruction", protect you or will
you search for some hero. ~WARNING~: He or she shall-not be there for (You)..
Saturday and Sunday, "I'm deeply trouble again but still I know that Each of us will
be dead soon, and I quest- I ques..I'm really not looking forward to it, for he promise
all will (Die). Now that it's Monday all over again. The one who is the ~Creator~ will
not let us forget to live. Because not only are we going to be with him in Heaven. But
not only are the roads wider that leads to distruction but understand O'Weary soul
of all that are mention, but the narrow road is he pathway of peace and everlasting re-
dention:
i treated your loss just like death
grieving for you as i did my mother
i still wonder if the universe
wasn't teaching me a lesson in karma
for you were a personification of heaven
which surely meant there would be hell to pay
for a year i tried to drown you out
with illegal drugs and spirits
something to wipe away the memories
numb the gut wrenching pain
and to quiet the nightmares
that made me fearful of sleep
you still remain
after my previous endeavors failed
i sought out pleasurable company
calling on old acquiantances
and admirers of our once shared love
dull, boring, lacking in every sense
and that is putting it mildly
then that lonely august afternoon
an unexpected surprise
chiming from within my apartment
your tender voice on the other end
everything rushing back
my soul revitalized
your freshman year in your rearview
returning home to gather creature comforts
inviting me for a ride along to arizona
after all others had declined
i hesitated thinking it a bad idea
but knew the courage it must've took to ask
hey danny, do you remember
sleeping in the cab of your truck
at that shady looking truck stop
just over the new mexico state line
you nestled up in my arms sleeping
just like old times
i remember climbing with you
through the catalina shadows
chasing roses instead of lilacs
jumping over chasms
eating prickly pears
and showering in the springs
three days i spent in your bliss again
while three days you sharpened your dagger
waking up to the sight of ian
hovering over me, smiling
like a buzzard mocking its pray
unaware i'd been mislead
our time together cut short by my request
unable to bear the thought of you having moved on
standing alone at the terminal side-by-side
your hand reached over to cup mine
turning i could see the tears welling up in your eyes
your voice cracking now with apologies
one final embrace
your face buried into my chest as you sobbed
your eyes opening shedding tears
one final kiss
feeling just like the first
under the fall
a decade has gone by
i've sworn off love in hopes
someday you'll return to reclaim what's yours
now and forevermore
even after all we've been through
you still remain
~ fin ~
Arabesque Whispers
To a flower
You are the fragrance
And for poetry
You are the refrain
Something left from a dream
Has taken time in place
And the Now is only your face
like a sea before my eyes
Your beauty overflowed my thoughts**
And wrecked my sails
And then, i look at you.
Big dark eyes, from Arabian Nights
Serenading Muashahat of halcyon glories
knights and queens' love adventures
Love and sacrifice, and still your eyes
hold undeciphered charms, that
I have yet to decode..
Every spot , every speck is a whole in all its integrity
Your arched eyebrows have traced.a perfect bow
And trimmed it with a painstaking care, and genius hands
No wisp of hair was left out of the range.
was left out at random hands to alter its beauty..
And the black hair that droops loosely
Upon your shoulders
And down to your hips where
it lands gently in warm lap,'' i just imagine
It with a wish this might happen...''.
Lines like an intricate Arabesque of a human design
intertwined fibers not tangled in chaotic hustle
or weaved with awkward beginners.
Classy and tactfully polished......
Then you smile with lips lightly pressed
A mildly stressed corner of the thin sweet lips
Shyly giving a hint of discretion
A sign of reserve and self-containment.
It's what makes the beholder get willing
For a curious inspection, and poetic research..
You look heavenly serene and blissfully Zen
No care, no stress ever can a poet discern in all your lines
You gently wave like the ebb and flow
Of a Summer calm sea,,
At even's quiet moments. you take my eyes
Silently, as i sink blindly in your deep
Shattered dreams and promises that they cannot keep,
Many mouths to feed and tears as their children begin to weep.
To say that it leads to stress would be putting it mildly,
As the society suffers with them as they face their plight boldly.
Where are those who should listen as they cry out in pain?
Who will help them rise as they struggle with guilt and shame?
This is a monster that wreaks havoc on the masses,
And believe it or not it is not only among the lower classes.
But while they will get a helping hand when they fall,
The poor are left to wallow in self pity without help nonetall.
The toll of hungry days and sleepless nights lead to frustration,
As they rise to face another day of their unbearable situation.
Stress and more stress as they think of what will happen tomorrow,
And without a trace of hope they carry on with a heart filled with sorrow.
How can men, women and children who face these circumstances survive?
Without an income there is no way forward for them to grow and thrive.
And our society suffers just the same as spending decreases all round,
But at every corner they live in hope that a way can be found.
And when the bills reach the ceiling and it affects their self esteem,
They wish this was not their reality but just another awful dream.
With no way out and mounting pressure they turn to crime and violence,
Not caring much or even thinking about what will be the consequence.
Bills must be paid and food must eat and the children must go to school,
But it is a pity such a pity that this was their solution instead of a tool.
Get a piece of land and do some farming but crime is never the answer,
Become masters of your own destiny as together we fight this monster.
It is easy for me to say when I have no clue of what they go through,
And I wish oh I wish that I could make a difference for you.
The shame and low self esteem that come from loss of income,
Will make anyone’s mind blank and their fingers numb.
There is such deep sadness in their eyes as there is no form of enjoyment,
But let us find a way to rise above as together we tackle unemployment.