Long Necklaces Poems
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when I gaze upon you,
I see not the skin,
I see not the shape,
I see not the size.
I see your light.
Radient from your chest,
the warm tint fits you best.
Placing a smile on my face
as trust begins to encase.
Pin-pointing the light.
Glowing so bright,
Your silly smile can add,
even when you are hurting and sad.
Then I see it.
On you they spit.
your light fades.
you crave for blades.
My hands shake,
how dare they make
your light dim.
My rage begins to brim.
I know that look,
your joy they took.
Their words engrave themselves upon your skin
Beating you down, they want to win.
Wiping their hurt upon your delicate heart.
fading light, my panic rises, the tears start.
Feet moving with out my permission
Their words churning my ignition.
I step between them and you.
Their anger flew.
Arms strait out,
I'll take their blowout.
for they can't see
how beautiful you can be.
They cant hurt my light.
Not when this is my fight.
My eyes hold strong,
because their words are wrong.
I remeber their words to me
How I didn't even disagree.
the long nights alone,
making my skin atone.
Remembering the rope necklaces,
all of the fake faces.
The tears cried in pain,
wanting for life to abstain.
I stand,
nothing they say can land.
for I fight for a cause
to make your pain pause.
When no reaction will come,
The leave saying 'no fun',
I turn to you
and tell you its not true.
I hold you tight
Strengthening your light
Those words are but a blight
This is our fight.
I will pull you off every ledge you stand on,
No matter how dark, there will still be a dawn,
So let that light shine bright,
Let your soul take flight.
You are stronger than you know,
this is a temparary woe,
So dont let your light go.
This is your life,
so lay down the knife
You'll make it through this strife.
And when you do
No one will shine as bright.
there won't be another loney night.
For you won your fight.
Stay strong,
stay brave.
Don't let them take your light
This is all of our fight.
You can win.
"Never let them take the light behind your eyes"
(My Chemical Romance)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Listen to the songs:
Light behind your eyes - My Chemical Romance
Optional:
Sunrise - Our last night
Stand in the Rain - Superchick
Fight - All Good Things
I must think fast. My house is on fire and I'll have 16 minutes at the most
to decide what I will save!
For sure, I will rescue the computer, or the flash drive at the very least.That is number one, for this represents a great number of hours I have spent creating poetry.
The second thing is my photos. I've saved most of them in albums, and there are many! I'll have to grab them up in armfuls and make two trips back and forth to get them out!
Third, I really should not forget paper documents: proof of birth and house ownership, certificates, checks, etc. To get those things redone is a huge hassle, and luckily, I have them all in one big box.
What next? I think I will grab up my jewelry, especially my rings with precious stones that I love so much. Bracelets, earrings and necklaces too. I'll toss them all into one big bag and worry about sorting them later!
I've used up at least ten minutes of my time by now. Next I will try to rescue my clothes. There are too many of them to save them all, but I will grab up my favorites, yanking them from hangers and taking them to my lawn in big piles. I'll use the hamper to carry them in!
After clothing comes shoes! Of my many pairs, I need only to save a few which are my very favorites and my two most comfortable pairs which I wear the most often.
Finally, I have arrived at the final thing! Most of the sixteen minutes to get stuff out of my house has disappeared by now, so I will run into my kitchen and grab up my supplements along with any healthy nutrition bars and dark chocolate, all kept in my pantry. I will just shove them all into a large box and get my butt out of the house.
Whew!! The fire truck is here now. I am praying all my favorite nic nacs, books and old records will somehow be preserved! I can always get new sheets, blankets, furniture and televisions, but the things I most cherish are the things I grabbed first to take out of the house, especially those things irreplaceable such as photographs and my poetry!
And what did I learn from this little exercise? Well, I really need to have all my favorite things previously organized into big boxes which are easy to carry!
Feb.21, 2019 for
Caren Krutsinger's Seven Things You Would Save If Your House Was on Fire
The Clanking Chain of Wild Geese
I was watching the September sky every day,
With a hope to once again get a glance,
Of the clanking chains of those lovely wild geese,
That suddenly appears with their music melodies,
But quietly they disappear every year,
Like a Rainbow that comes and gets lost gradually.
No one knows when like a rainbow,
The wild geese would appear suddenly,
While changing their forms like clouds in the sky,
Mesmerizing our eyes for few seconds or more, and then,
Disappearing in the sky, like the dim vanishing evening.
The wild geese often appear in the sky,
Forming a shape like the garland of God,
And quickly changing shapes, like our emotions,
While moving in the sky like an arrow,
They sing the joyous songs of today, not tomorrow.
Forgetting the past and the future like an arrow,
Which keeps running, until it reaches its marrow,
The destination to pierce a heart,
They create either a joy or sorrow,
While singing a song of today, not tomorrow.
Oh, September sky I watch,wonder with ,
And hope to see them once again,
My childhood friends wild Geese,
Coming from north and vanishing in south,
Like my thoughts which arise and fall.
But this year, I did not see the winged necklaces of God,
Neither could I see a rainbow being formed,
Nor even hear their chorus like songs,
No clanking of wings, No music of their joys,
No rise and fall of images like thoughts,
No sounds and music touching my heart.
One day, I was stunned to hear,
The species of goose are in great danger,
Man has stolen many of even God’s necklaces,
The rainbow of birds and the grandeur of sky,
A great heritage of Nature is vanishing before our eyes.
Oh, my sweet friend,
Will I ever be able to see and hear you again?
When you would clank your wings, in the windless sky,
Creating a dance and music, on such lofty heights,
Where no musician can ever fly,
With a hope till I am here on this earth my friend,
I would keep waiting and watching
For you O wild Geese in the September sky.
Ravindra
Kanpur India. 1st Oct. 2010
Dedicated to my loving wife Dr. Shashi Kapoor, as a birthday gift for her
Birthday on 2nd Oct. who loves animals and birds more than any thing
Else.
A lap dancing molecule is dressed in a monocle. Such dainty prowess but naked no dress. No suit could taste an acrylic sheet as sheer fabric is often moving unseen across oceans,beams, and many window ledges. Who would then argue that a tempered sword could beckon in this era as most people have taken off wool and now the flock stands bare. A show of a shower. An increased discolouration of tyranny and a mounting view of hue. Mist not a moat. And take no orphaned lonely goat to a show. An AK47 is looking at a tent. And although rusted is trusted and thrown around in the air with great gusts of emblematic soul thrusts. Dupe not a diamond headed cobra. For ancestral wisdoms flourish if harm is perceived. Placing of the cloth should be attempted only when the stream is full. And the stench from a rhododendron printed garden is abominable yet can it be abolished? "yes" cried the 893 serpents, 500 belligerent buffalo, an earwig, and a giant sea turtle. Carve that then. Ha ha. It is to be the dutiful honour of the maiden of the eleventh ocean to place chorographical lines on necklaces. It is neither a weave nor a wand. And placing ones hands behind ones back is a sign not of cohesion it is detrimental to a bloodline. Once sold. A soldier fed is a soldier dead. And a field of archaically driven radio beams is a quagmire of hidden ancestry. Gone. But not gone. It is not the place for a nine foot leopard print jacket to state wisdoms at a ball or a garden party. It is the place of the feet. The dust. The trust. The formation of the ground. The true leaders denied but not denied. And all chaotically clam style ship faces and all Jacobean worshipping masonry brick heads placed the many many peas in a boiling pan then laughed. Sold manuscripts for money. Then drank blood in oceanic temples. Worldy wholly wantons. And a sack of germinating potatoes pollinated. Discuss not a wonder. Pulling pleasing playing partying patties pastries pasteurised. Slip slap slop then. Great. Fantastic isn't it? Feel not akin to a tired dilapidated drinks fountain? Xxxxx passing Paddington people xxxxx adjudicator adhere. Xxxxx vaporisations p y q Zr
Form:
-------------------------
I stepped into the dark corridor, and by an accidental touch of kindness,
I entered into the haunted tower of time,
like a sonata full of hope born
and dreams of kisses by the river.
A hug that conquers the bastion of inadequacy
and destroys the silk defense lies.
A book emerged from under a stone,
was read in the bed,
and melted into the mist of some new sighs.
At the bottom of the well, I saw eyes
what are like a spilled handful of pearls.
*
From the bud of the name of the great
a golden-haired princess comes out and hugs me;
while racing across dry, creaking snow
from the Paris streets
and the blue book pages
smiling boy with a snowball
hits a chandelier full of candles
and pieces of light in all directions fly
like a wasted youth.
*
I wander around the world in search for a soul
in the dark and blind with despair.
Snow is everywhere
and downhill takes me down
to the frozen lake.
I can see my hands trapped
on the other side of the thin
ice cover.
I'm frozen like a stone pillar,
while only my live eyes cry.
From my tears
the seagull makes hope necklaces
to guard against all evil
names pronounced.
*
I drink wine from the birch tree,
putting presents on the lower branches
of silver and amethyst.
Cloak of the Great Sorrow
which covers my back and shoulders
I came to leave it
there, in the corner of the garden
where are the thick willows planted.
*
Under the giant Tree in a blizzard
I found a beautiful corner for meditation;
I untied the ponytail
cut off from me long ago by the demon,
sprinkled myself with snow,
and with the icy grains of remaining joy.
My hands are at the end, bare and empty.
*
With the inner eye, I hear the chorus of trees,
where the ancestral oak commands the willow
to pass through my nostrils
and create the Tree of life
with better woven
by watering sapling
with the red juice of my body.
Ready, I surrender
and I go into the ice bluish-whiteness
hugging me silently.
Finally, my peace comes
in the company of people
that were once like us
and we will all become like them
just like me now.
-----
Bone Lady.
Pippa Gray
If you have come for romance, please leave.
Follow the fireflies and they will lead you
back through the woods, to your manmade path.
There is no sweetness or solace here.
I am a thunderstorm, a fierce force of nature.
My heart is a patchwork quilt of tattered skins,
Hand stitched with lengths of bloodied sinew.
I shall decline your perfumes and silken robes.
For I have my bones.
I throw them upon my thighs and listen
as they whisper of your future.
The dark to come,
Creeping in through the corners, from all directions,
To disturb the parts of you, that you refuse to examine.
As for necklaces or gold
I have no time for tin trinkets.
My jewels are mustika pearls,
Dug with my hands from the corpses of snakes and foals, from red fox remains and oak tree roots. As I roll them in my palm,
their spirits share secrets such as you'll never know.
There's no polite conversation in this space.
Tell me of your descent into madness,
Where your mind wandered through worlds
not known in your pleasant awareness.
Where your limbs were torn apart by
winged shadow creatures,
Who devoured your flesh.
Do not ask to stay the night.
For salamanders sleep with me,
Gliding through the embers of the fire,
caressing my skin with their warm licking tongues.
And my journeys to the other worlds
are not to be disturbed by lonely, snoring men.
I am not to be rescued or conquered.
For I am vast, unchained...
Indeed, freer than you could ever hope to be!
You there, shrinking, stinking in your self imposed conformity,
while you weep at night for the lost parts of your soul.
They flew, my friend!
To be with the talking swans in the faery glen,
Where they could live the life that they deserved...
I spoke with them in the lowerworld!
And they do not wish to be returned to you anytime soon!
So leave quickly while you can.
Return to the old sprung bed where you were born,
Before you are forever changed
by the reflection in my eyes.
For once awoken,
You can never sleep soundly again.
I remember gazing upon
the ocean from my lanai
on the Kona mountainside
Watching the cruise ships
gliding through the dark
Into Kailua Bay at the
Same time every morning
always clad in their bright jewel
necklaces that lit up the dawn.
I remember sitting on my
lounge chair
observing the moon
collide with daybreak
And disappear from sight
While sipping Kona coffee
That heavenly aroma
warming me to life.
I remember delighting at the dolphin
Each morning, wondering
how in the world
they don’t crash into each other
when they all leap
at once
so carefree and happy,
spinning and twisting
splashing each other
with their play.
I remember watching
The humpback whales
I mean, they are
magnificent creatures
and my heart would dive
right with them,
and then rise so high
when they leaped
out of the water
How can they do that?
I would search the ocean
For a glimpse of their
Waterspouts, the sign
They would begin jumping again,
What a marvelous way to spend the day!
Watching mothers and babies
play together
and jealous bulls smack
their tales not be outdone
by women and children.
I remember sitting by
the ocean at Kukio Beach,
one that few tourists
know about yet,
watching the water
change colors
aquamarine near the shore
cerulean a little farther out
shading into cobalt and indigo,
Wondering just how
many colors of blue are
in the entire Pacific Ocean
Noticing how the waves
crash against the rocks in rhythm
like the
dancing fountains
at the Bellagio Hotel
in Las Vegas.
I remember
imagining the music
According to the tempo
Of the waves crashing
On the lava rocks
and
It was the sweetest
music I ever heard.
I remember leaving
The beach one night
And seeing the full moon
smiling at me
through the palm trees
Like a big white
Jack-o-lantern;
And I smiled back
And I remember
Waking up in the
Middle of the
Night to see that
Same full moon
Spreading its glow
In a river across
The ocean
Carrying a message
For me right
up to my lanai.
It’s time.
It ‘s time now
To go home again.
Retrieved Passage 3:
From The Book of Days, Sonnet 2
For Lo! I must relate this tome to you
who gather here to listen and believe
to tell the story I believe is true
before my sanity (BARK!) takes its leave.
The Spuds in Exile traversed the terrain
wearing long dresses of the fine-spun silk
all travelling by sedan car and train
with their bright ears fresh-bathed in llama milk
and (UUUURRRGGHHH!!) such necklaces as seldom seen
made of gold-plated prunes and aubergines
graced the neck-less heads of brown and green
of these arcane potato libertines.
And (WOOF!) soon you must go and leave me here
for my time of insanity is near.
Retrieved Passage 4:
A Running Transformathon
Mutation comes: hair after little spiny hair
appears on palms and small akimbo knees
and he is wont to don dark leather underwear
and mumble backwards in dour blasphemies
The beer flows, the cape swirls, the spud appears
grinning like a satyr in the dark
with twin horns standing up like stabbing tuber spears
he's poised to lope and gibber in the park
Mutation comes: the cycle goes and comes again
when the moon's bright halo lights the sky
the spud goes skinny-dancing at your window pane
and howls along with every mad dog's cry.
Retrieved Passage 5:
Revenge of The Jelly Men
I dreamed a dream,
screamed a scream,
a vocal vent of pain:
the Jelly Men are coming
to find me here again!
They are coming slow and stealthy,
they are coming with blancmange,
they are coming back to pelt me
with a stale Victoria sponge.
I see the day
fade away
to all-consuming black;
the Jelly Men are coming
in dark, deadly attack!
with their moaning and their howling
and their teeth fiercely displayed,
and their custard dogs slow-prowling
in the sleepless, shifting shade.
A sound of drums,
the tyrant comes,
on legs covered in hair!
The Jelly Men are coming
with their dark, demented stare!
I will lash them with strong cable,
I will fight them fearlessly,
I am here under the table
merely out of strategy.
He sits and mourns and weeps within the Willow trees. A sodden forlorn form,
alone in his own company. bemoaning fate as destiny's joke. While keeping in his
cups. An addled mind won't show the truth of how he was taken in by a trollop.
Immune he thought his senses be to the wiles of a womens ways. For was he not the
one who always had his heart intact at the end of the day?
But sly as night her temptations were. With each smile and bat of an eye. Her
gowns were designed to tease a glimpse. Of what lay beneath when she disrobed at
night. She coyly watched from behind her fan as he went slowly insane. With a need
to kiss her red rose lips an add her to his fame. He bet all the men at his Club that
he'd have her in a fortnight. They gladly took his wager, cheering on that she'd put up
a fight.
He took her riding in Hyde Park and to the theaters and brunch. Presented her with
diamond pins, ruby eardrops, necklaces and such. She played the game so cunningly
with smiles and gentle touches. Unspoken promises of passionate nights. She had him
in her clutches. Then came the night that she gave in. Not once did he think of bets
while in her bed. No, the mighty Rogue was well and trapped. His heart new it was love
before his head.
He lied to his chums and paid dearly. For he could not publicize it so. he loved the
woman more than money. His ego he let take a heavy blow. He lavished his first and
only fiance with all she could ever want. Money to buy her wedding trousseau and a
home on West Hillary Blunt.
It was a sad day for all mankind when he stood alone at the alter. She was already
half way to Paris, France. His new found faith in love began to falter. How could he,
The Rogue Supreme, have fallen when he should have been dallying? He was tempted
by fates first taste of trust. Brought low by loves sweet calling\center>
"Act one Scene one" contest
Placement: 4th place
Dragon got excited, just the other day
He wanted to meet his Dragon friend Drag
Way out in that Lone Star Texas State
So he donned his really big Texas boots and hat
Put his courageous penguins right there, on his back
They too, were dressed in their cowboy best, duds N stuff
Then low and behold, my sweet little idiot, really did take off
To find Walker Texas Ranger, he said, and without me along
I was left there, staring, cause he didn’t invite me, awe Gee come on!!
Now I’d have to chase him in our really fast 50’s car that goes 22mph
But only to the edge of town, for he is a 3 year old baby dragon, after all
Yep, at that age, his body is big and his wings are small!
Yeah! It’s true. Don’t you know. Now, imagine the trouble he’s into!
Luckily he missed the house and barn, but nose-dived into the snow
Yep, the drift 4 stories tall! Thought we’d be searching there, for days
But out, from far below, came a mighty roar, from VERY deep within
Seems he didn’t like so much snow in his Widdle Baby Face and skin!
I’m laughing here, (again) Folks, but with that we knew where to begin.
It took the Fireman, Policemen, Butcher, Baker, and Candlestick Maker…
To finally get him out, fortunately, we have put trackers on the penguins
Yep, that helped to get THEM out. Isn’t technology marvelous? I say!
HEY! LITTLE penguins, BIG snow! Even you can figure THAT one out!
Seems their new necklaces with trackers, were perfect in this much snow
Yep! When we pulled Dragon out, his fire was (again) puffing snow!
The Trolls counted penguin toes to make sure we had them all.
Hey, don’t ask! Simply remember that they are Trolls, so no need to ask…
We made it home by nightfall and tucked all our tired little babies in to bed
Just so you know… Sorry Drag… The visit will have to wait, for a while
But perhaps we can try (again) next Fall, when the snows are melted.
Some more… Well… At least we can hope!