Long Poesies Poems

"The Sleeper and The Supernaturalist"


The Sleeper
shone as she walked 
through the Woods

shining alive 
like nothing
natural could

caught 
in the moonlight 
unaware

the innocent
red-caped roses stared
the trees whispered,

"beware, beware"

barefoot softly 
the Supernaturalist 
transfigures instead

from under shine 
she bares...

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"Salvage"


Salvage the fixating salvation 
unfurling from the wreckage
of a numb world twisted inside
treasure climbs swimming 
the ladder from the deep of all things 
reaching upwards travelling in a new time
of melting morpheme moments overlapping 
dissolved...

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“The Juniper Prize: Between the Known and the Unknown”

That man built a house 
of straw and sticks
and the stories that burned within -

all consuming the titled prize;

like a bird 
sings a song
the metre repeats and...

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"Conceits"



Such conceits
as veils between 
our windowed worlds 
torn torrential incomplete

mayst thou watch and learn 
the one I spawned, 
strength beats weakness
carried soft and harsh

one direction or the other
strength and weakness
both carried soft and harsh
ego and...

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"transference"


transference 
in a narcissistic world
propaganda for the 
unsuspecting
validation 
for the damaged

writers 
soldiers 
victims 
survivors
war fought daily
in shallow trenches

buckling at the knees
stand up 
brave comedians 
salute compatriots and cowards 
caught in their camouflaged net
all the crumbling...

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“Her Ever Changing Moods, the Rapture Reprising”

Lavender seduces symmetry  
in her ever changing moods
slips into something more comfortable

a swollen tangerine sky 
moves its tongue over 
the blues of her violet harbour 

calling the siren...

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"Ocelots"

It was during that time 
they all decended into the lush fields of poetic madness,
swaying indolently with the other tall green poppies, 
who for once in their small lives basked in noticeability,
their blooming heads bending...

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“Chasing Ghosts in Cars” 

Like automata
we walk inside 
winding up the stairs

it’s all mechanical
the romance 
programmed

by steep degrees 
in the 
well-routined

we can walk 
through walls
anywhere

to look out 
our windows 
towards the better view

each cell in...

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Oh, my merciless muse, why do you hide?
Your silence is deafening, your absence a void.
I long to feel your presence, to see your face,
To hear your voice whispering in my ear.

Loose your lips, dear muse,...

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To Don Quixote, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s sonnet : A Don Quichotte

         (Poem written in March 1861 that I would Verlaine had
dedicated to the Grand Dear Old...

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If I may, to my fellow would-be poets, 
Hereon pose an imperative query
(Yet mostly destitute of the greatest urgency),
Then I who, in the gross majority of my inditings hereon,
Am of quite a Shakespearean and Miltonian...

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Oh, faery finch, whose golden form does climb
    Athwart the starry bays of poesies, sweet,
I hear your voice, and drown in slumber’s clime,
    As I sit, pond’ring in my...

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          I like to WRITE  in verse- I like to tell stories,
sometimes, I will  r h y m e  sometimes I shake up...

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I KNOW MY WORLD
Don’t come to my world
Its milk and honey
Are that of excreted inks

A world where
Lines are made into walls
Out of a dancing pen

A world where
Her neighboring villages
Are called stanzas
And her clans 
Known for...

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Morning is broken.


Electric blue; suffocate my words.
Drowning like a fish, gasping for air.
The hole I will lie in is golden on the outside.
I have no life, I have no time; I have no chance to...

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Had this weak pen those sly Phoenix's powers,
I wouldn't pester Time's much-envied eternities
With blank queries that deaf ages well eschew,
With any other of fate's multi-jigsawed parities.

I would some five hundred ugly monsters kiss,
And with each...

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                Your written  words roll off my tongue, and I savor the taste
      ...

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