Long Resentment Poems
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I am Time speaking more to continue..in next
This Poem is dedicated to my father
Late Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
Who fought for the freedom of India
with Mahatma Gandhi 1920 to 1947
and wanted to shape a corruption free India.
The Poem is also dedicated to Anna Hazare,
who is still on fast since 16th Aug. 2011
for the great cause of removing corruption from India
With massive mass support from every corner of India
Anna has become the Second Gandhi of India. ...Ravindra
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I am time speaking
Are you listening to My Voice
Can you see by open eyes
The waves of crowd rising high and high
Like the waves of a turmoil sea.
The heated lava of anger and resentment
Is burning because of You
And you only
The resounding noises of the broken dreams
Of every one from all walks of life and
people from all the generations.
Have you ever sensed and realized
The aching pains of the badly swollen veins
Of the masses of this country.
The anguish, pain and the helplessness with which
the young men and women
watch everyday
Shattering of their hopes and
dreams after dreams.
You are still hiding your face in the sand of time
You do not want to listen
Any voice.
Even when,
These are voices of millions and millions
of your masses.
You show as if you are deaf
before the
Thundering sounds of roaring sky.
Or you do not want to listen and see
You even do not want to understand
What kind of roaring voices are these.
These are not sounds,
This is Tsunami of thundering sky
I am time speaking
The roaring voices which you show unheard
Are the voices of a Mass Revolution.
Those who do not hear these roaring thundering voices
It engulfs them in its arms forever like Tsunami.
I am Time speaking.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 21Aug. 2011
MAGA
Inherited lies by children of fools.
Traffiking hate and Aryan rule.
Indifferent to hopes of self-sustain.
Resentment and fear of broken chains.
In blood Ingrained with other's pain.
A lingered stench. A nation's stain.
So on they rant of good ol' days,
of us and them, "Look not our way,"
"We see you not," "Not of our kind."
They've hate embraced, not open mind.
Hypocricy beyond compare.
They will not see. They do not dare.
Thoughts and prayers, a spurious show.
If not their way, then off you go.
No second look to other's plights.
They have their book. They have no sight.
Warped, corrupted, and abused to prey.
It says what they need it to say today.
Promises empty and pockets full.
A bear for you, for them a bull.
"Just hear what I say, but not what I do."
A singular platform, "I'm rubber, you're glue."
Incessant lies by propagandised press.
Dancing for donors. To hell with the rest.
A decadent loser with disavowed fate.
His self-obsessed lies sow palpable hate.
This miscreant mogul, ineptitude clear,
infected a flock with anger and fear.
Privileged victims w self-righteous distain.
To them, their fate. His sheep for to reign.
A gentle pull of ripened peach.
Despotic trolls simply beseached.
Propaganda with a fascist Q.
Gullible marks duped to a coup.
Beguiled & riled & released on the hill.
Zealots and bigots, too eager to kill!
He crouched among the ‘noble’ men
Of so much worth they were much to him
As seas carry creatures, he carries hope within
How much longer must he wait for them, then-
To let him in?
A beam of a smile appeared on his face
They spoke of beautiful women, in dance and grace
Their laughter fed his soul like water quenching fire
His confidence low, yet high his most wanted
Desire
The chatter was of an upcoming banquet
With well-dressed lovelies, their speech eloquent
Hearts swollen with wine and merriment
He longed to live among them
With resentment
Eyes never glanced his way, he hoped to find
A gleam coming to meet him eye to eye
And as they spoke with anxious humor,
There came over the youth a sudden
Tremor
He was ready to make himself known
In beggar’s clothes he would have shown
That he can speak as eloquent as any
And that the smallest bodies of waters
Are plenty
The ‘noble’ men continued their vibrant chat
Without a thought of the boy, not e’en a glance
When suddenly the youth sprung up, ignited
“My friends, I too—I too
Am excited!”
There was a pause in the chilly air
Some men laughed but the host merely stared
The beggar man smiled and bowed so nobly
They would have never suspected a man of his tongue
As lowly
The smile disappeared as they continued to jeer
And the boy was overtaken with inferior fear
At last the host said, “Good man, I am glad you are excited,
But do tell me—er...were you ever
Invited?”
His head went down the kindhearted floor
He could not take the unfeeling eyes on him anymore
Pained to the marrow of his bones, he shook his head
He was never invited, he was never
Well fed
He ran away with tears in his youthful eyes
It is sad how quickly one’s hope can die
And all that night no hope remained but hunger,
Leaving him driven to survive, not above
But under
i life
Reflections in the mirror increase resentment.
Tarnished heart pursues vengeful contentment
Disillusioned, you hide in fictitious make believe,
possessed by demons who purblind and deceive.
In your bogus twisted fabricated state of mind,
answers to your questions you shall never find.
Your fraudulent mask poses, deceptively concocted,
mocking with a grim masquerade you have adopted.
ii death
As your heart blackens with the absence of light,
Lucifer summons you closer, to his sheer delight.
Loved ones cannot save you from hell's burning heat,
there's nothing behind you but shadows of deceit.
Now that your toxic nature has begun to expire,
you can no longer suck energy like a vampire.
Nobody cares to listen to your forged confession.
There is only joy in the absence of your aggression.
iii after life
Pain like hungry howling wolves irritates skin deep.
After all this time, why do you sabotage my sleep?
Am I cursed that I see your silhouette in my dreams,
I'm struggling to ignore your torrid smouldering screams.
Why continue to haunt me like a vicious viper?
Firing shells of cyanide like a silent sniper.
iv remedy for change
I'm fortunate that my quill has become my shield,
for every wound, poetry is my remedy to be healed.
My ink is my saviour, bursting through my vein,
a catharsis for peace, as from hate I abstain.
The Day Your Child Stabs You
Version 1
In order to weep
I guess I must care;
At least enough to stress
Over these words, to share.
To her free mind, half mine
She stares down at me...
But not for one second
But perpetual eternity.
Mistakes, unforgiven,
Yet nodded upon,
social contracts in the air
But forever shunned.
The air thick with resentment
Over war zones entrenched
Like poison over drudgery
Liberty over stale love's stench.
Spreading her wings over our
Clipped flight,
And gliding over us,
As every next generation must.
I shut down and give up.
Can't be disappointed
Ever again.
Pick up your spoon or your needle
Or your bottle or pill;
Your children dance on your grave,
Before you are ever ill.
Version 2
Tell me again
Of your woke generation
I will sit in my diaper
Waiting for your instruction.
Tell me again how
Everyone has a right to their
Sexuality and
Reference points
Of they or them or assigned
At birthness.
Tell me how understanding
You are, and how your generation has
Finally got it right.
I will drink my booze
And swallow my dope
In my late 20th century
Americana maleness,
All the while shivering
In skin, too afraid to address
Any of my
personalities.
Version 3
My child steps on
Her blind spot
Which is on top
Of my mental illness
To preach from her soap box
About how prejudicial I am
Towards society's victims.
I hope you find your blessings
In the hearts you love
The ones who share your life
And give you so much hope
The ones who make you smile
And lighten every load
The ones who keep you laughing
With a heart that is so full
I hope you find your kindness
Reflected in those you love
As they reach out to guide you
Toward a peace that is so good
It makes the heart melt away
All the shadows of resentment
Take on the joy and peace
That come alive in this season
I hope you find your life
Is filled with love beyond words
Love so rich and vibrant
It heals every wound and brings
Assurance that all is good
And wonder beyond all wonders
Has come to fill our hearts
With unconditional love
This Christmas, I hope you LOVE
I had seen lots of babies.
Had taken care of plenty.
But it was no rehearsal for having my own.
Nothing prepares you for your own baby.
No one can tell you how it feels, because you have to be shown.
These protective, loving feelings have never been felt by you before,
And you will never feel them again because each baby is different.
One baby wants you to eat only meat.
Another gets sick if you even smell bacon.
Some babies are pure dairy lovers. Other abhor milk.
Yes, babies are opinionated and stubborn from inception.
The instant feelings of love and reverence
That come along with each baby take care of any resentment you might have about
Them imposing their will and opinions on your will and opinions.
When that darling angel was put into my arms and l looked into her trusting eyes,
I instantly forgot all of the things that preceded her arrival.
The pure goodness I saw staring back at me eliminated everything
But her essence and her godliness. You could tell she had arrived two seconds
After being kissed by the angels. The pure joy and humbleness invoked in the realization
That I was her mother, and she was my child eliminated all other knowledge or awareness.
There is such a godliness and pure joy in becoming a mother, it cannot be explained.
It must be lived.
Written July 9th, 2018 for Joys of Motherhood Contest
Sponsored by Olive Eloisa Guillermo-Fraser
Author's Note: These verses are wrought for a poetess-painter, a fellow poet whose sorrow kindled their first ember; may this little flame, in time, find its way unto her.
—A Quatrain Beneath Eternity—
Upon one leaf, where gravity dreamed slow,
a rain-born orb did tremble under heaven;
her argent quiver made the star-fires flow,
and dawn stood hushed beneath the empyrean;
an ant climbed forth from bark's primeval shrine,
then paused before her—dark against divine.
He drew towards her as the firmament
bent its vast curvature about her sphere;
as though some adamantine gravitation sent
a wandering world where worlds should disappear;
he touched her light—and through his six limbs ran
a shudder older than the breath of man.
He deemed her painter, fashioned out of rain,
with leaf for canvas, sunlight for her dye;
she bore the green world's secret in her vein,
and whole lost heavens trembled in her eye;
their minute orbits crossed beneath the tree—
two infinitudes made briefly one decree.
Then he ascended towards the ancient bough,
she followed that inexorable green descent;
no wound accused the other of the why,
nor did their parting bear resentment;
and time, beyond the jurisdiction of years,
let Earth spend eleven seasons unawares.
He came again. The old light knew his tread;
she had not ceased her pilgrimage through green;
no reckoning rose between the living and dead,
nor any blade of old remembrance keen;
one quill returned above the waiting page—
four living lines outshone an earthly age.
Then came the storm. The leaf became a sea;
the firmament was riven from its throne;
the wind took him beyond all astronomy,
past every star by which the lost are known;
she quaked, and all her little heavens broke—
yet waited for the word he never spoke.
Perhaps he bore one universe to tell;
perhaps her own lay folded in the deep;
perhaps the storm extinguished one farewell
before its syllables had learned to sleep;
she moves still downward through the shaken green—
and somewhere, the fifth line remains unseen.
Maybe I misunderstood
When I agreed to honor your request
Half belongs to me
And the other, I choose to invest
....in loving you
Boundaries are important
No one can have ALL they desire
So why are you disappointed/surprised
That I don't have a ROARing fire
....in pursuit of you
After all this time together
Why would you question my comittment
We have children together
Wondering has produced resentment
....in my needing you
Now, why now, would you want ALL
Is my heart supposed to breathe for you
Shall all movements in life
Reflect the beauty of blue (means love)
....though I thrive in green (means life-giving)
Where am I if I am in you
Do I not have a "me" outside of your name
I am naked before you
Accepting that I am to blame
....for being deaf
........I didn't hear......correctly.....forgive me
....................no, HEAR me
Am I a ME on my own
Can I be seen without LOVE
What is LIFE without LOVE
No more than breathing without purpose
..hmmm
If I have no greater vision
Than to be the green inside the blue
You may HAVE my heart
If I can be your LOVE in all I say and do
Written by Trudy Schrader on 07-18-2018
Note: Shema means "to hear." The whole point of the WORD, is to HEAR. When we look at the woman in Genesis 2, she didn't "hear" Daddy God, because she was inside the man when Daddy God gave instructions. She indeed made an error in her words to the serpent. Check it out, and get Revelation.
The tears ascend in a manner reminiscent of ocean waves, while the emotions within you resemble the ferocity of hurricanes, intent on wreaking havoc through your trembling hands. Yet, you take comfort in your mother's words, remembering the scripture describing a city with crumbling walls. And so, you let out a scream so broken that it goes unheard, silent to those who are still content. As my eyelids shut, allowing tears to drown the hopes I had planted for the future, I see no fertile ground for new beginnings, only a barren land rife with animosity and resentment. I sink to my knees, clutching at the earth, watching it slip away like hands that once held on tightly, now resting idly by their sides. In this moment, I am reminded that this too shall pass.