Long Nurtured Poems
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My mind is as fascinated with investments and divestments
as my body is attracted to healthy and beautiful vestments,
and haunted by prospects of naked loss of home
and integral identity.
My vested interests emerge issues and concerns about nutrition,
as opposed to malnutrition.
Nutrition, whether economic or political,
pursues ecologically systemic complexity.
PolyCultural nutrition can be consumed and produced by a healthy cooperative ecosystem,
while a monoculturally disturbed and aggressive absence of balance
harmony
grace
perpetuates internal v external systemic trauma.
We would all prefer,
regardless of cultural history of our vestments,
avoiding Other's aggressive win/lose values
without win/win cooperative body-health/mind-wealth merit
as effectively democratic,
confluently inclusive,
peacefully compassionate
as possible
through clear polypathic discernment,
multiculturally resilient wellness
passion/pleasure co-invested,
economically and politically co-arising
enlightening and empowering
compelling
spacious and timeless
harmoniously cooperative wealth
overwhelmingly vested
in nondual co-arising
mind/body
passion/pleasure climaxing
wealth/health co-infested experience
Whether the pantheistically connected mind of an ant
or polypathically EarthMother nurtured human,
whether the soulful voice of a river
or polyculturing choices of a rich forest,
or the SunFather enlightened spirit
of EarthMother's empowering cooperative nature
My mind invests in
and divests of
anthropocentric economic and political
monoculturing monotheistic history
Of healthy bodies and beautiful minds
spaciously and timelessly
haunted by monoculturing prospects
of sacred EarthMother's loveless loss,
homeless absence
of cooperatively organic
panentheistic Gaian integrity.
EarthTribe's co-empathic
beautifully invested mind,
fascinating co-empathic body-divestments,
where curious polypathic nature's nutrition
cultivates spiritual-mental health diversions,
spaciously enlightened and timelessly wealthy
co-arising authentically enlightened
and integrally empowering
bicameral left/righteousness
Polypathically organic minds
fascinated with investments and divestments
of panentheistically sacred bodies
attracted to politically healthy
and economically wealthy
creolizing Gaian co-infestments.
When you return home after many years,
stepping onto familiar soil,
your heart stirs with bittersweet anticipation.
The sun-tinted house that once witnessed your dreams
now stands a stranger, with cold eyes afar,
overgrown vines clinging to its weathered walls.
It is as if time has woven arras of indifference,
forgetting the dwelling you once held dear.
Your gloomy eyes , yearn for the sight of loved ones.
Brimming with longing and delight,
search for the comforting presence of a mother’s love.
But her cot is empty, an echoing void
that resonates with absence.
The silence lingers, a haunting reminder
of the void left behind.
Your ears strain, longing to catch
the timbre of your father’s call,
but the emptiness engulfs you,
and his voice is but an echo in the time.
Oh, how it pains you to realize
that the essence of your childhood has vanished,
scattered like fragments of a forgotten dream.
The trees you once nurtured
no longer extend their branches in recognition,
their leaves now whispering unfamiliar secrets to the wind.
The birds that sang in joyful harmony
have embarked on their migratory journey,
leaving behind only mark of their melodies.
In your room, where time stands still,
A sanctuary of memories, both tender and surreal.
Your photo on the tinting wall,
Whispers tales of laughter.
In this moment, you stand suspended
between the realms of nostalgia and reality,
caught in the delicate dance of remembrance and loss.
The evening glows, once bathed in golden hues,
now cast their gentle glares upon your soul.
Days spent in the backyard beneath the sheltering heaven
of a tall tree flicker before your eyes,
like fragments of a fading painting.
As you wander through the corridors of time,
retracing the steps of your youth,
you come to realize that home is not merely a collection of tiles
not a building, confined within four walls,
it’s a dropbox of your heart, where dreams are saved, love and laughter sprawls, a symphony of whispers, of joy and tears combined,
an abode of cherished echoes, forever intertwined,
an eternal flame that cannot be extinguished.
As you stand there, amidst the overgrown ruins of the past,
You find the lost essence of being, imprinted upon your soul.
No matter how you wander, how far and wide you roam,
You know you’ll always return, to the place that owns you.
…
(Prov. 22: 6 / Heb. 5: 14 / Deut. 6: 6-9 / 2 Tim. 3: 13-15, 16 / Matt. 19: 13, 14)
(Part One of Two)
If A Child Wants To Eat Candy
All Day Long …
When You Tell Them ‘No!’ - -
Is It Wrong?
If A Child Wants To Stay Up On School Nights
And Not Go To Bed …
Will You Leave The Matter At That
And Do What They Said?
If A Child Wants To Run The Streets
At All Hours of The Night …
Would You Allow It
And Say ‘It’s Alright’?
If A Child Fell Into Hanging Out
With The Wrong Crowd …
Would You Do Nothing
Thereby Showing It’s Allowed?
If A Child Gets Some Silly Notion
And Is Being Misled …
Will You Not Try To Talk
Some Sense Into Their Head?
And When Your Child Makes A Mistake
(‘Cause All Of Us Make Life’s Errors)
Are You Going To Be Loving & Forgiving
Or Come Off Like Some Holy-Terror?
If You See That Your Child’s Life
Is In Imminent Danger …
Would You Leave His Soul’s Wellbeing
To Some Ulterior-Motive Stranger?
All Children Need Education
That’s Why We Send Them To School
But Isn’t Home Training
The Best Place For Understanding Life’s Rules?
Before Your Child Gets Polio or Smallpox
Or Some Other Life Threatening Situation
Would You Not Seek Out Preventative
Medicine or Cures Thru Vaccinations?
If A Child Just Wants To Play
And Not Do Chores or Homework …
Would You Not Try To Find Out
Why A Lazy Streak Is Starting To Lurk?
If Your Child Is Depressed
Unmanageable or Confused …
Would You Not Put Extreme Effort
Into Finding Just What You Could Do?
If A Child Needs To Be Shown Love
and We Withhold Our Kisses & Hugs
Are We Guilty When They Grow Up
Into ‘Crypts & Bloods’?
If Your Child Doesn’t Want To Talk
and Retreat In Hiding From The World
Wouldn’t You Do Everything In Your Power
To Help Your Precious Boy or Baby-Girl?
If Your Child Has Low Self Esteem
Or Shows A Lack of Character …
Wouldn’t You Want To Be
Their Value & Virtue Narrator?
If Your Child Just Really Needs
Someone To Listen & To Talk To …
Would You Not Prefer
that That Someone Be You?
I Once Knew A Police Officer
Who Had Said of His Beat …
A Child Can Get Discipline At Home
Or They’ll Get Their Beatings In The Streets
And The Same Can Be Said
Of A Young Child’s Impressionable Mind
It Needs To Be Nurtured At Home
Or It Will Eat Every Junk & Stuff They Find
(Part One of Two)
Written & © : 7/16/2013
By: The MoonBee
It’s the same everyday
The same wind, the same lush
The same whisper, the same tale
Yet, in the mist that blows
Through the sunlit meadows
I hear the same voice
Echoed different
Each time.
As my gazes fall
From the subtle ocean floating overhead
Carrying its tiny islands
To the coasts near the tangible oceans
There’s the wonder on him
Who let’s me stand.
There’s the thunders, Earth echoes
Through its hollow corridors;
And the storm it carries
Wanting to put everything in motion
It screams, and screams
It doesn’t know why,
As its voice, silence its ears, but others.
There’s the turmoil
It wishes to understand
So he shook the ground
That refused to let him
Stand his ground
The earthquakes with their heavy blow
It was its breakdowns.
The fear, now replaced with anger
Wants to have peace
He decides to unleash
Not wanting to care
But to let the land burn;
Volcanoes were made
When it had its meltdowns.
As the torment inside him grew
He tormented the world, he nurtured.
Threw his tantrums
As cyclones and tsunamis.
Like a human, Like a child.
Still, it has the tranquility,
I often wondered how it kept;
With all the commotion, he caused
And the ones, they brought.
I admire the seasons it bring
The summer, when it felt the warmth;
Warmth of the sun
And the chuckles of the new born green.
The spring, when it felt the love;
From the giggles overheard
Near the fresh flower bed
To the wisdom bestowed to the sages
By the Himalayan mountain ranges
With their long white beard,
Love was heard.
And then,
Came the autumn, when it retreats
To find the love within, engraved within.
To find it’s gemstone,
To reach it’s milestone.
Soon the wind arrives with its spikes
Now the nature retreats,
A different way.
It hikes the earlier Santa Claus-ed mountains
To heal himself, for the next year.
I admire the seasons it bring
The wind, the rain
It learnt to unwind it’s tantrum
In the solitude,
In the same solitude
It offered to the seekers.
It learnt to deal with his surges
Deal with himself.
Like a human. Like an adult.
Yet, it acts like a child
Every now and then
And a few other times.
It has flaws, but it grows
It lives to be born again
And born, to live again.
Different, each time.
A human contained in the nature,
A nature contained within a human.
Make haste to befriend the toro meanly reared away from spectator prying eyes
by dread alone the bull is nurtured and prodded to terrify
and when at last the ranchero’s silhouette appears in the arena it charges
Wake! India! Wake!
There are no greater mysteries than those your scientists can unravel
the only mysteries that persist are those drummed by priests into your brains
even a helpless Stephen Hawking can pierce the Aryan mystery by silent reflection
Wake! India! Wake!
Let those who seek power in the polls seek it for their own sakes
sooner or later sooner than later they too will pass away
their power gnawing at their bones will feed the etherising flames of their pyres
Wake! India! Wake!
Let those who seek to challenge their power challenge it for their own sakes
they too will rot in the chains they have willingly chained themselves in
for they too seek power for the sake of power and for theirs and their own comfort
Wake! India! Wake!
And let them all pass over you you who have borne in quiet pain
mauling under the pretext of mournful migrations and the Mughal might
Mohenjodaro and Harrappa notwithstanding Vijayanagar and Kaveripumpattinam
Wake! India! Wake!
Do not for a moment think your sons have deserted you
nor your daughters gone to spawn with other spouses under other suns
your needs are their needs your tears their blood coursing in their veins
Wake! India! Wake!
If you had woken up earlier to tend to your shores to tend to the marauders at the border
letting only the lone Kshatriya exert his martial art abused by fine courtly comfort
you would not now wonder how a Rajput court at Mewar drove Akbar to such lengths
Wake! India! Wake!
(Continued in Part One - 10)
His hand reached out to mine, open,
Holding it, I smiled, our eyes danced with understanding,
Form and blush outlined his expectations,
But I could see that there may be fear inside.
Mary restated their predicament,
That the child was born out with the marriage bond,
And that people were swaying to the opposite side,
And course dialogue, laughter and spitting were norm.
So I asked the two for their thoughts and predictions,
About the child, if he perhaps could be like, special?
And they specified that he would cure, heal and exorcise,
And also promised that they’d talk to him about the poor.
Could this baby be the messiah?
I pondered and hoped in their certainty;
Was this the predicted son of god?
He would be free from aggressive victimisation,
If we could just name him as god's son.
So I suggested to his parents,
That if the wise men came with a quest,
To accept the name Jesus Christ,
And certify the census, no less.
Freedom for some is in lying,
When there’s no possible alternatives,
But I believe Joseph never lied,
In the population census of Bethlehem,
That just so happened to pass by.
The child would have been suppressed by all,
Assumed to be dirty and unclean,
Not for chat or dialogue,
And certainly not for work in a trade of his call,
Or for work in any trade for that matter.
Nothing would ever have been done,
The poor would never have been healed,
Or not so quickly for sure in history;
The government would not have been rifled,
And Christ would not have come.
Treating the poor for health problems,
Would have come through government legislation,
A long time after Christ,
In an austere, aloof manner.
People to people relationships,
Would not have been respected,
If care had been awarded top-down,
By bureaucrats and officials:
As supervisors of the protected.
Society at that time was narrow minded,
Stuck in traditional religion;
There were outcasts, sinners, infectious people,
And assumptions were remedial and red:
There were no special people,
No exceptions to the rule,
Only one place for the messiah confided.
One baby matters to me,
A life should be saved at any cost and risk,
Because the abilities you show when young,
Shouldn’t be muffled or labeled regressive,
But nurtured in acceptance and love.
O souls of the Island,
I have silently
heard through
tropical torrents
and surpassed
a million miles
of the milky seas,
away from
mint-marine
silhouettes of my
utopian wonderland,
as strawberry
ripples and
coconut-scented
musings called
upon my
flamboyant spirit,
to explore those
ebony-emeralds
of universe and
envelop my hope in
creamy pink shells.
I have soaked in
sepia impressions,
ebbing as
crepe currents
on splitting shores
and windsurfed
through the
hibiscus rays
of life by forbidding
heartache hymns
of yesteryears,
from lurking in
jewelled hours
of today
and built a
kryptonite kayak
to sail in the
turquoise times
of tomorrow.
For, now I know
that the
opalescent ocean
has chosen me,
to return the
riveting spirit
of sage-rufescent
rivulets back to
the 'Heart of
Humanity's Cosmos',
shaped in
soft serenades
of seraphim.
When the
whispers of a
mauve french-rose,
blooming within,
will uncurl their
farthest wish
in silken twinkles,
my eyes will always
remember these
watercolor heights
splashing crayon dusks
and revealing
silver moon truths,
for there's more
beyond the
neon networks
of syzygy pearl skies
and chestnut reefs,
yearning to be
cherished by the
blonde alchemy of love.
So, I abandon
those sooty
regrets that snorkel
with their fragile fins in
kohl-lily gulfs
and observe these
constellations
of intuitions, formed
by the star-kissed
manta rays and
sketch sagacious
saudades laced
with hope, as a
halo around the
lilac Pole Star.
In this mortal
seascape of
the seventh heaven,
every orphan
of darkness
shimmers as
the beacon
of lustrous
sugar-scintilla that
shapes this world,
in ivory-smitten
spheres of
magically
diaphanous helix,
waltzing in whispers
of wind and water.
Every lava-skinned,
feminine flame
of doleful daffodils
was once a glittered
cherry-red gardenia,
laced with
cardinal buds,
who nurtured
velvet seeds
in the womb of
celeste compassion
and edenic empathy.
And like myself,
every sea-maiden of
sequined lush ruminations,
crowned with
purple plumerias,
is a whimsical wayfinder,
wishing for ~
white bells of serenity
and blue-star petals of peace.
"Fragments and crumbs of life, all the little pieces"
John Ruskin, 1853
It has been there for ages,
perhaps older than anybody alive.
Radiating dignified peace, it stands
enveloping everything under it in a cocoon
of soothing shade. A patient listener whom I
consider my companion. On lazy noon, I'd weave
uncharted territories on paper to bury in parched trunk.
With numerous thoughts I couldn't share with others,
I had bubbles of exuberant stories to be narrated. It
swayed lush green branches and dropped a few leaves in
appreciation. A young thinker humming to serene tunes
of cooing wind on starry nights would teleport me to
a sphere of leaves sparkling with coloured dreams.
Over the years, the pile of buried pages from my
memories, fears, experiences, years simmered
into the roots of that old tree. It stayed
patient witnessing my journey, shedding
agony with withered leaves in autumn,
buried under layers of winter snow,
reborn every spring.
From crumbles of
my old struggles,
figments of my
journey, drops
of patience
nurtured it
to my essence.
The tree now
lives as my
legend, hope
rising from
legacy of
showers
that drench spirit
in soaring ecstasy. The
leaves fly afar, spreading
through blue rivulets, blooming
orchards and sing of a lonely tree
that grew in a barren land with courage,
turning struggles into elixir for leaves,
a newfound freedom for memories to live on.
August 30, 2020
All The Little Pieces Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Beneath the twilight's veil, I ponder,
On the path of wisdom, not granted but discovered,
We traverse a labyrinth of silent nights,
Seeking light where shadows reign.
In the ethereal corridors of dreams, I wander,
Among the echoes of ancient stones and stars,
Where truths, like whispered secrets, dwell,
And shadows weave the complex fabric of the soul.
No guide can walk the winding path for us,
No hand can place wisdom in our hands,
It is a flame kindled from the depths of solitude,
Nurtured through the trials of personal experience.
Books of sages, their wisdom merely a spark,
A distant star in the vast cosmic darkness,
The journey to true understanding is solitary,
A path we walk alone in silent contemplation.
A lantern's light in the abyss,
Its fragile glow, a promise of dawn,
Each step, a fragment of truth revealed,
Each heartbeat, an echo of hidden understanding.
Memories, threads in the vast tapestry of life,
Weave joy and sorrow into unseen patterns,
In solitude, the true path emerges,
In the silence where wisdom quietly resides.
The river of existence flows unbroken,
Through deep chasms and peaks that touch the sky,
With each wave, reflections of eternal truths,
Of love, loss, and grace intertwined.
Petals of wisdom bloom at twilight's end,
In gardens where the sorrows of the past dissolve,
Each loss, a lesson, each fall, a rise,
In the sanctuary where the wise find peace.
We weave dreams through life's tapestry,
Sewing hopes into the fabric of existence,
Kindling warmth against the vast cold,
Lighting the way for souls through the immense darkness.
The world, a vast canvas of shadows and light,
Calls for dreams woven with threads of gold,
A path to understanding through the embrace of night,
A solitary journey, the sacred quest of each heart.
Through the starry veil, I perceive,
The mark of destiny on the paths we tread,
We traverse unknown and profound realms,
Only to discover that wisdom is a solitary journey.
A comet streaks through the boundless night,
Its fiery trail, a metaphor of understanding,
A guide against the eternal darkness,
The beacon of life, born from our solitude.
In solitude, the soul sails forth,
Through fierce storms and calms of peace,
To discover the pure and eternal light of wisdom,
In the silent and eternal night of the heart.
I am the mother of hundred billion,
Now dumb and ears shut,
Orphaned by my own children,
For whom I bequeathed myself,
I am the Goddess of creation,
The creator of evolution,
Now I stand chained and hand cuffed,
Like a slave begging for clemency,
I am dragged to guillotine by my own sons,
The dagger pointed towards my chest,
Just to face this deception I fed you with milk?
Why a war between the nature and the nurtured?
I am pleading you to stop,
But nobody listens,
Stamping me with your metal feet,
Spewing pollutants on my face,
Why you fail to hear my cries?
Machines encroaches my body,
I bleed and bleed and smeared to death,
I made you clever, I gave myself for your inventions,
But that was for my children's comfort,
And now your acts are the catalysts of every global problem,
It's high time you stop your reckless exploitation of my crust,
Is society shaping means killing of public health?
I know what my babies need,
I gave you the Paradise,
But your science has changed my Biosphere,
You dig me for gold, extract my oil,
Suffocate me by dumping plastic,
Burn my skin with garbage and pollutants,
Artificial alloys, satellites and sources of energy,
Now I have lost my natural beauty!
So many Panels and so many Conventions,
Still not discovered the reason for Sea level rise?
Don't you think of my shedding tears,
My cries are shrinking the Arctic ice sheets,
Why humans are so eager to kill me?
But I never die alone,
And that is my biggest pain,
I am the mother of millions of species,
They all need me to survive,
Why humans alone fail to understand that?
Don’t force me to fight,
Let me always be a caring mother
Never turn me to a callous women
My weapons are disastrous,
Never make me to inflict those,
You can never win,
So Leave me alone – completely alone,
And never think I am nothing worth,
I am the Almighty Mother Earth.
The only planet in our solar system to enable life, planet Earth. The Earth is unique among planets in our solar system for having water in its liquid form at the surface. She has given us everything, everything to support our existence. Air, water, land, oceans,seas, clouds, rain, wind , breeze, food and all. When all species can understand that why humans alone stand as exceptions. STOP YOUR EXPLOITATION
A poem dedicated to my “MOTHER EARTH