Long Oblivion Poems
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She came in alone
Sat on the chair close to mine
I could smell the scent she wore
See a lone mole on her chin insecure
Her eyes shifted aimlessly
Between the cell phone she gently tossed
And the door that opened and closed
But couldn’t see the figure she briefly knew
Enter like a whirlwind to sweep her away
To the fairyland on her first date.
Time was hanging heavy on her
She drank two glasses of iced water
And crossed her restive legs ten times.
Her eyes followed a man after a long while
Winding to her table from the door
While she thought he came from nowhere
Going to meet in his own time the oblivion.
A kiss landed on the mole, wasted
A rose fell on the table, waited.
Neck upright arms crossed
She said softly “You’re late”
“But early for the next date”
He said laughing loudly
Lips curled eyes distant.
The scented air stale now asked me
“How long love waits to be waste”?
August, 7, 2017
I once lost my thought on the paths of time, like a wandering cloud in the ever-changing sky,
but I found it chained between the pages of a memory, where moments weave garments of longing,
on the road of life, I wandered with my heart full of desires burning like stars in the deep night,
and in the dreams I had, I discovered a drop of your love, like a pearl hidden in the depths of the sea.
When the sun rose at dawn and the shadow of night melted like a forgotten dream at the crossroads of time,
in the world full of the morning's colors, the thought of you was like a free bird in the infinite sky,
under the sky filled with thousands of stars, I searched for you through the labyrinth of memories, seeking the echo of a lost laugh,
but time, with its bittersweet venom, whispered to me that they are just echoes, just shadows of the past.
In my heart, I kept you, like a ray of light piercing the heavy clouds of a rainy day,
and wherever I roamed, you were the hope in a good day, a silent song aligning my wandering steps,
I once lost my thought, but I found it chained in the memory of a moment, where I locked you away,
like a treasure hidden in the chamber of the soul, a secret place where longing turns into poetry.
Thus, in this uninterrupted flow of thoughts and sensations, I carry you with me like a living flame,
for every heartbeat, every breath is a step towards you, towards that realm of eternal love,
where thoughts are not lost but found in the silence before dawn, in the warm light of memories,
and, between dream and reality, between past and present, I weave your image with a fine thread of longing and hope.
For even when time lays its dust over us, and moments melt into the sands of oblivion,
I will always keep you in my heart, like a rare pearl, like an unwritten verse awaiting its utterance,
in this journey of the soul, in this symphony of life, you are and will be my song of longing,
I once lost my thought, but I found it, always chained to you, to the love that binds us.
Miles are long, darkness is deep,
But he has promises to keep.
Until then he shall not sleep.
He slumbers in bed while angels weep
The distance is leagues and eons-long
The pale moonlight is but a somber song
On Raven wings, dreams take flight
To the horizon edge, he sweeps
To the gilded edge of creation, he glides
Upon Oblivion his mind rides
There are miles long, dark and deep,
But he has promises to keep,
Until then he shall not sleep.
He languishes in bed while spirits weep
While roads that are traveled less upon
As the moon has a gossamer face
On raven's talons secrets bleed
On empires shores soon he goes
Black sand between toes, seep
He stands and stares into the face of divinity
Miles are long.
Darkness is deep,
Nevertheless, he has promises to keep,
Until then he shall not sleep.
He reposes in bed while seraphim weep
Painful self actualization
quickly brights to light
paltry reasons (with or
without rhyme) a desolate sight
within blinkered mindseye hindsight
grotesque grimace shocks with affright
desolate landscape
precipitated when airtight
vacuum sealed sequestered,
muckraked, furloughed...
which past existence now doth bite
back with a vengeance more agonizing
than any imaginable plight
feeble effort thru poetry
to portray psychological bombsight
cathartic, emetic, pathetic... ejection
minus (all gore rhythm)
red tattered torn flesh ala bullfight,
vigil held under
deathly hallowed candlelight
lack of living will trumped right
against autopsy, eh
scant material worth any copyright
deceased did request mourners
to revel in daylight
of life (l'chaim) delight
within simple pleasures downright
unfettered, yet respectful
of self and others fight
for peace with strong lanced arms,
yet...shy away from fistfight
while standing firm
on righteous ground,
versus passively taking flight
modestly acknowledge accomplishments,
sans reflection initial birthed floodlight
ideally rejoice asper positive contribution
within webbed, wide world despite
shortcomings vis a vis height
insight, might,... dismissing as trite
customary, healthy, quality traits
sustaining virtuous yeast
leavening kindled hindsight
carried into darkness of afterlife
soul asylum void of oblivion
analogous to eternal midnight,
where surviving kin begat,
viz biological millwright,
which sunny daughters
became darling lasses overnight
I ask do not weep, nor mourn,
neither heap exaggerated flattery, quite
upon the head of
this beastly boyish sight,
whose dying wish
expansive though slight
points to stopping for persons white
red, brown, black...since one's birth
until...final seconds usher
mortal into twilight!
Listen to the wind sweeping autumn leaves,
pirouetting amongst a citrine sunset.
Whilst light rain collects at corners of windowsills,
illumination from a crackling fire
bounces upon unpigmented mourning walls.
Silent weeping occupies microcrevices,
confined within the splintering memories.
The creaking of an antique rocking chair
melds with the restless nocturnal atmosphere,
of time no longer waiting in the shadows.
Sheer onyx fabric draped over photographs—
death came much earlier, not from hate or spite,
but to erase the endless suffering,
of years wreathing in perpetual chronic pain,
locked within fragile bones and a trapped mind.
So do not curse the gods, my dearest love,
nor get lost in voids of sorrow oblivion.
Know peace has now been brought to my tired soul;
I wait patiently until we are one again.
The Bees Knees
She was the buzz between the feathery blossom
The flutter midst buds and petals in cloak of fur
Rapturously delving the gene laden pollen
To trap the powdery wonder upon her hairy legs
And transfer to elsewhere blooms of Summer
Reveling in its dizzying smells and peaceful hue
Nectar sated in this golden seasonal time
She must return to face the chores and feed her chums
To sweep and clean and oust the dead
Create a pristine nursery for the queen
And build a perfect wax work cell
Where stored supplies of hand maiden honey
And jelly that feeds the nest, creates a queen
Her days are short and action packed
And cannot remain when her energy’s spent
She flees her lair in one final fixed resolve
Relieves the hive from her expended body
To soar the heights and taste the dregs of summer days
And grasp the hazy blooms from better days
Relive their perfumed air and colored leaves
In one final blend of oblivion
Oh Despair, Despair (to tune ke sera)
When I had grown and reached an age
I did a job expected of me
Would I be rich and earn a good wage
This is what I would be
I became a nurse
Not much in my little purse
The teaching was hard as well
Couldn’t wait for the bell
Didn’t feel that well
If I had had my life again
I might have been a car engineer
Do my own service, fix an old van
Save me a bob or three
Oh the car repair
Can be for the women too
With grease and grime in their hair
See the motor improved
Get the car on the move
Now that I am all grown up
no mum to tell me what I should do
I continue as very hard up
That’s no surprise at all
Oh the nurse’s job
The teacher’s as well you see
The money is not a lot
That’s the end of the jot
That’s the lot, the lot.
Poetic Science
The Universe is expending those who know this say
(My waist size too,) is expanding but has a natural limit
which the Universe doesn’t have.
I have difficulty understanding the limitless where is
the Universe expanding to, what free space does it
occupies; as the endless is ungraspable.
I wish the Universe would shrink a little bit enough
for me to see that somewhere there is a border
but not further into nothingness.
If the Universe is expanding, it must also be timeless
and abstract as it doesn’t exist in any time frame
God must be an invention to stop us from disappearing.
The space beyond nothingness is oblivion it can
therefore, not exist as it has no space, and no stars
and is a question of a dream not remembered.
Stained glass child, I see your window every day
A picture of innocence, purity being portrayed
Can’t tell if happy, such an expressionless face
As my black soul passes, this once sacred place
Thy stature diminished, thy name is desecrate
This window screams at me, you abandoned faith
A symbol of times past, the masses came to pray
Forsaken by doubt, and my religion went astray
Lost without direction, I attempted another route
Trees where stripped bare, of low hanging fruit
Can anyone be sure, what dwells beyond demise
Out of reach answers, high in the canopy reside
So the stained glass window, gives nothing away
No sadness, just indifference to a divergent sway
Inscrutable indecipherable, a picture froze in glaze
Enduring illustration, of our past ecclesiastic days
Later life offered, more than reflection and prayer
Leaving surreality, stumbled upon a hedonistic lair
A craving for escapism, morphs to delusional need
I descended into oblivion, an atheist in the weeds
Now searching amongst theories, some I embrace
Seeking out some creator, in the medium of space
From quantum to infinite, amid macro micro waves
Alas reality of life, may only be found down a grave
Stained glass child, with the halo above your head
Embedded in a window, framed with softened lead
Watching you as my life, inexorability draws an end
Have I missed the point, where you my only friend
Soul Betrayal Poetry Contest
A soul that vessels life,
or driven into oblivion.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
A pitiful anonymous dilemma,
that either suppresses or sustains life.
Fueling our consciousness,
whilst Fostering out desires.
Our instinctual incentive,
to appear a persona of part.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
An incongruous tug of war,
the fidgeting of our hearts and minds.
Carefully deciphering our cards’ might,
for an inexcusable conforming reason,
staged playing our parts right.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
How simplistic it is,
to only want to appear the part.
How limiting it is too,
to only want to play the part.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Think again and instead, be the part.
Question yourselves,
your Love,
for the part.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Be the part,
And take a road not taken.
Love the part,
going at it,
and not blissfully with it.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
For better or for worse,
Till death does your part apart,
Forever and ever,
till days’ seep into descent.
*“The evil that man do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;”
Shakespeare in Julius Caesar
Self Love
Time has now dawned to start loving myself
After fifty-five years serving others
In public sector with love and passion
With striking sincerity of purpose
With deft devotion and dedication
With candid commitment and conviction
With integrity as the best friend
And holding honesty in the right hand
As inscribed in the contours of my fate
Irrespective of who`s at helm of state~
Serving at diverse rungs of the ladder
From the lowest steps to the highest stairs
Caring for the health of the public purse
Sinking in the sea of stark stagnation~
Carrying bricks to rebuild the country
To make the land a better place to dwell
For all, heedless of caste, colour or creed
Regardless of tints of flags they brandished~
Oft stuck between the anvil and hammer
Serving as screen against storms and showers
With the shoulders burdened with heaps of loads
Some times to the detriment of my health.
Now ditched down the deep well of oblivion
By so-called friends, envious of my seat
Who used me as props to climb the ladder
And nestle themselves with safety at ease
As ravenous wolves in sheep`s clothing
As lizards changing hues to suit their needs~
Such is the fate of the evolving world
Where one`s goodness is interred with one`s bones*
Or turned to ashes and sprinkled away
To sink in the solitude of the sea.
Now with hair turning grey and the bones lean
When moving hundred steps is a burden
When the body night and day pines with pain
I feel that during my long journey of life
I have turned my back to loving myself~
And now is the time to carve a small spot
In the corridors of my senile heart
At long last to grow the grains of self love,
But not to close the door to share with friends
Lessons learnt to brave the wafting wild winds.
My voyage of life has brought to the fore
Self love is not synonym of ego
But at day`s end a decent desired goal
To be myself with my stress, strains and strength
Just a solitary human being
Singular like a single shining star
Scanning the deep sea of the inner self.