Long Spreading(a) Poems
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When the Earth was in danger 5 /8
Prelude (For Prelude please see part 1 )
Watching the changing season all around, to enchant the dance of Urvashi*,
The Earth began to dance too, thinking that Urvashi’s* dance would save the earth,
What a splendid scene it was, which was spreading a magic everywhere on earth,
No one had ever witnessed this beauty and grandeur,
Neither anywhere in the heaven, nor anywhere even on earth.
Breathless and motionless they were watching only,
Under the influence of intoxication, produced by the seasons Goddess Spring,
The last efforts of Urvashi,* to save the earth and all its beautiful creatures. 19
Suddenly a shocking incident took place, shattering the hopes of everyone,
While dancing with Lord Shiva, pride entered into the mind of Urvashi*,
She began to think that she was performing her dance,
as good as that of Lord Shiva*, and
This thought began to disturb her mind,
disturbing the coolness of her flawless dance. 20
Watching the seed of pride, sprouted in the mind of Urvashi*.
The Goddess Earth, ‘Dhara’* thought, “Now the destruction is inevitable,”
If not stopped immediately, the seed of pride rising high in Urvashi’s mind,
Could become the cause of Shiva’s rage and the destruction of our Earth and the Universe.
Not only she too would burnt alive in the cosmic heat of Shiva’s third eye*, but
The whole of this beautiful Earth and the wonderful Universe too would be,
In flames of that cosmic heat and life from this most beautiful planet,
Would vanish forever and forever. 21
A sudden incident took place in that moment, which disturbed the balance of Urvashi,
Urvashi* fell on the ground, while she was at the peak of her divine dance,
Her dance came to a abrupt halt and with that even Shiva’s Tandava* stopped too,
Lord Shiva opened his eyes to see,
What had happened, which forced him to stop his dance suddenly.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 24th Feb. 2011 to continue in 6
Clarifications
Urvashi* was one of the most beautiful Apsara of the court of Lord Indira of heaven, as
per Hindu mythology. She was a perfect dancer and singer.
Lord Shiva* is the supreme God of Hindus.
*Tandava Nritya* means Dance of destruction.
Dahra*Hindi word means earth.
Trinetra* means The Third Eye of Lord Shiva or which exists in the center of our forehead
The admiration of the little town is filled with goose pimples dancing in the ground, the wheat is mingling with the tares and bullets are flying in the air. The wind is swirling in the ground, and it is sweeping a toxic energy everywhere and it is wrapping its tail around the garden palm and the center of the eye is penetrating the apple tree. It is skipping from branch to branch spreading a message that nobody wants to hear but it has certainly cleared the air, but it leaves the town in much despair. They have to wear a brand new shoe, and will have to learn how to talk anew.
The eye keeps moving around the town, and the minstrel is dancing like a clown. The vigil has broken out in the street shouting messages that are very deep. The feeling is so profound that it thrust the people to the ground and send on the run, some hiding in holes other hiding in caves and others are crying but it is too late.
I have done all that I can do, but their stomach keeps growing and their voices keeps bellowing. I waited for my turn but I can just feel my spirit and my Adrenalin running a hundred degree way beyond my tolerance limit but suddenly the rain began to fall, and it brought everyone underneath the forbidden tent.
We have all gathered underneath the tent reminiscing the dead. Enemies and friend, those that attacked me, and those that cursed me gather together to shelter from the rain beside me. I can feel their conscience burning and fear of the unknown flaring. We docked on boarded stalls up stalls in dilapidated backyard right outside the commercial bank parking lot. The rain is coming down and everyone is walking around with a frown hoping that the rain would not spoil their Friday evening shopping and fried chicken jamboree. And here I am trapped in the middle of it. With my laptop computer elevated on a cardboard box with the wooden box laughing on top.
The admiral is cleaning up the town, and the message is just sinking in the ground, and the people are getting ready to move in. The game is moving from their head, and reality is showing up into their bed. The days and nights are getting shorter, and the admiral has finally got the job done and I could safely leave the town.
He stands on the cliff of the broken edge
Waiting on someone to come and bury the dead
Night has made its final decree, and the villain has flee
The pleasure of this world is leaning on his shoulder
And the passing of time has made him bolder
He stood there watching the clouds rolling by
And a staggering fire lit up the solemn sky
Spreading a vigorous heat on the bare concrete
He stared straight into the sun until the day was done
No expression was on his face but I could see regret
And anxiety bulging in his petrified eyes
He knew that his December was coming to an end
And he finally has to bend;
The fire is going out of his yes
And there was no more tears left to cry
With all the screaming and shouting
his December is finally caving in
With just three more days left to end the show
The world and his wife are on the go.
Mind over matters the strife and the fleece
The office is hanging on a single thread
And reality is just getting out of bed
The December sun is getting hotter
And the people’s spirit is getting warmer
Tension is floating in the air
While the cry of despair is seeps through the door
And the people are beckoning him to go
I have never seen him cry and I have never seem him sigh,
Even when heavens meet with the sky,
He pretend to be bold, but he is crying behind the door
His feathery hair is flying loose above his head
And he was singing a tune as though he was dead
His boldness and stubbornness has finally cut loose
And he has to exchange it for a new pair of shoes
He has to throw in the towel to redeem the land
And address the boisterous crowd that was loud
All the talk and all the shout
He still didn’t know what he was about
I am still trying to make sense of everything
And I am wondering why they had found favor in him
But now all of that is lost, and he stands empty on the grass
A single podium and a solemn statement
He looked at me and looked at the crowd
Then I know that his term had come to an end
The lights grow dim and the new music begin
And a new fire sprung up in the sky
No resolution no solution
He takes one final look at me and said,
“I have to go “
December sun is very hot.
A sweet Little Worm crawls silently through the dirt.
Where has the light gone? I have no worth.
Feeling dense and dark, the worm surrenders its life.
What’s the use of living when there is no light?
Coiled unto herself, Little Worm falls fast asleep.
Unwilling to feel the dung of this compost heap.
Surrendering to the dark night is the worm’s only thought.
Eyes closed to her world, allowing all thinking to stop.
Asleep in the black tunnel, Little Worm dreams of the light,
Rising sun soaks through her skin; the heating pad of delight.
Dreamtime expands into an unknown inner glow.
Fiery furnace melts the frozen core as her heartfire grows,
A safety net surrounds Little Worm like a web of security.
Encasing her now in a gentle comforter, woven of purity.
Spreading a delicate balance while dusk and dawn merge
Cocooning Little Worm as she sleeps, enabling fears to purge.
Little Worm awakens with alarm; something isn’t right?
I’m smothering in this security blanket, and I’m feeling fright.
Little Worm gives a strong kick to break free; it is a flap.
She pushes with all her might; a flutter falls quite flat.
Flap and flutter; flutter and flap; frantic movements all.
Still I’ll try and try until I’m free of this blanketed wall.
All the flaps and flutters create a crack in the shell.
Her lungs fill up with sweet, moist air; Ah, now all is well.
These flaps and flutters feel different; actually, quite strange.
Appendages like angel wings now provide a vast new range.
Relief saturates Little Worm like a sponge lying in sweet gentle rain,
As she arises from the clammy, wet compost heap without any pain.
Slowly, tentatively, Little Worm gazes into the ocean of blue above.
Excited flapping and fluttering soon lifts her from the muck
Soaring now into the dewy spring of a fresh blossoming birth,
Little Worm acknowledges the need for the dark night to occur.
Flying freely now with the emerging glow of true freedom’s ring,
Accepting this new power contained within surrendered feelings,
She’s enchanted with her new life, although she’s not sure who she is.
Surrendered suffering has created this new day of pure joy and bliss.
Explode the galaxy
iron out this wrinkle in time
Cheapen a poor mans rich taste in fashion
it’s habit to be a creature of design
When the delicate send out the search party
start by scanning the various roadsides
follow the stench of day old regret
that should lead in right to my location
Where have I landed?
A strangers planet Earth?
A manic depressives getaway?
A lunatics wet dream?
Drain the oceans
bleed the kids on the mountain
the formidable foes of the knife I haven’t sharpened yet
jam packed arenas stocked with fresh meat
I’ll start at the bottom
-The Man-
The man holds the hand of his wife
greeting me with a reverse handshake
Something grainy about his personal life
leaked into his lovers tears
it sure as hell isn't this lady on his arm
Rinse his eyes in a river of lust only to let him see what he's done has scorched the Earth
straying too far from...
Rid you
Burn
The scum secretes
my head can't take much more of this eyesore
total eclipse of his soul has begun
Next up...
-The Harlot-
The girl holding the rose laughing
she’s breeding an uncanny look of impurity
Nothing perverse about what I’m thinking
it’s what she is
Spreading a soil around the town that reeks
a forked road where she walks down the handle
nothing she won’t do
nothing she won’t take or see
Come here and meet me in the middle
there aren’t so many eyes here
I’m sure this won’t be the most popular of assassinations
everyone likes a harlot
Excitement stimulates
Diseases decimate
Make up your minds
-The Vagrant-
Traveling on web feet has begun to hurt his ego
burn his shoes and prick at the calloused soul of a man ravaged by nothing
Pity is lost on skin without purpose
throw a penny at something that begs
spare a nickel for a chosen profession
Demon in disguise if you ask me
Blameless self de-evolution personified in a cardboard box
warming themselves with headlines and bold ink
Cold?
Maybe
Alas, what I do must be done
It's a thirst unquenched by a common liquid and if not
then innocence is lost in a blink of an eye
Explode this galaxy
iron out this wrinkle in time
This unhappy man in the midst of overflowing opulence living
like a discolored precious stone in a box of rare jewels was always
sad and lonely like a dry wood in a lush green forest, woke up
one morning, more dejected than the morning before, threw
the flower embossed curtains off the crystal clear window and
looked outside to see, maybe for the first time, the scarlet sun
rise in the flaming horizon that painted the fresco of rhythm on
the rippling water of the river, he heard beckoning him amid the
rustle of the dry leaves as the cool morning breeze ruffled them,
and as the colors of the dawn touched his heart softly like the
falling petals of flowers embracing the hard grey ground, a rare
delightful sensation pervasive, he never felt before, and as the
music of the river wrapped his senses the way drifting clouds
serenade in the emptiness of the mute sky, he walked with his
face flooded by sensuous sunshine to the bank of the river
where he saw a sand bar emerging proudly from the water in
the middle of the river and spreading a silvery sloping bed for
a small tree to grow whose outstretched branches were dancing
in the southern wind and the emerald leaves were shining in
sunburst splendor which he thought were the expressions of
happiness and joy that the lone tree could generate as it grew
free in an isolated barren bed of sand bar. All these enticed him
to sail across the coral sea to a distant barren island and like the
tree he let his life take resolute root in desolateness, living to
see the dawns come with pristine colors to cheer and the sea
turning into tapestry of liquid gold in ecstatic sunset hours, but
he couldn’t spread his hands up in the beguiling air the way
the branches of the forlorn tree did in ecstasy, his eyes didn’t
shimmer under sun soaked sapphire sky the way the nascent
leaves of the lonely tree did in happiness, because insular time
had made his mind a barren island.
seclusion accretes
in confines of lonely time…
soul seeks shore of bliss
August 26, 2020
Contest : Let The Pens Flow-Haibun
Sponsor : Jenish Somadas
*Image of Landscapes by Giphy.
Plantae I
I lie in my earthly womb
Unflowered cribbed in my ultimate bed
Bared to the encountering elements
Trifles steep their enriched parts
Distinct rain their confidences
Exert savored energies
A nourishing obligates
'Neath the weight of my girth
I sprout
Embedded toes stabilizing
Feverishly spreading, a flourishing site,
Unfathomable stretches, probing in growth,
Neath the weight of me to the sight of my being,
Whence the sense of my essence takes a peak,
E'er so slightly, I oft rise and slowly unsheath,
My shallow blade, by and by, will mightily survive the descent of me,
As I surrendered poking further,
Abandoned to the cares of this earth,
I yield myself purposefully pulling incessantly,
Lowly, a humble worth,
A petite verdant clothed insignificant am I,
Yet I spring forth the breadth of life, a stillness via inches, reveals,
Offerings bestowed freely, subtle trades, being accordingly,
An opportune enrichment as a component of this world,
The ingenious extent throughout my presence,
Expose a unique character in the design of me,
Sharing my children via the virtuous elements upon their calls of me,
Whereby, validating my species assuredness,
Forever in a day undressing my colors fully for passing eyes to favor,
The colorfulness, an artistic compromise as personas are expressed,
Unprotected as a seasonal passage occupies the conquest of time,
We bare ourselves in subjugated humility,
Of a short-lived consequence,
Our age foretold, ringed in our statuesque frame, ingrained within,
Announces a withering, one of many,
Spacial spatterings of a species, a forest, in global respect,
Nevertheless, a cessation that was long-addressed,
Paves anew, as chartreuse blades, diminutive in stature,
Outcrops a foundation previously possessed,
Its former tenant, tis save a legacy,
Notwithstanding, on the greatest of scales,
A similar fate awaits this world,
For now, be it a novel.
2020 February 24
I am stumbling along the beaten down path and struggling to get out of the dark, there are some boulders in the way and I have to work up extra energy to roll them away. The earth wakes up from its midnight slumber grumbling about an extramarital affair while the sun, moon and the stars watches closely from over there; two newlyweds carrying a bundle on their head, moving from city to town without decent place to lay their head, and the music bellowing in the heavens kept their spirit alive. Daylight breaks with an explosion in the skies sending people running all over the street, and thick smoke bleeds from the clouds spreading a stagnant fume around the town while the universe stands on top of the Hill breathing fresh air, and I struggle to find my way around, but my instinct forces me to lay flat on the ground, and I saw the vision of how the avenue disappeared. There is an avenue beneath the ground floor where they smuggle merchandise into the town. They were naturally formed from an ancient avenue that once exist before an earthquake sinks it three hundred years ago. Everything is in tack and they have lights below the tracks they have place where you can sleep when you are traveling in the deep. The layers are so deep, you have to follow the water pipes and it will lead you straight into the open street. There are no caretakers down there just one long tunnel that leads you out of hell, you must pay a fee at the entrance, leave it in the box and ask no question, they are monitoring you from a screen that is embedded in my dreams. I have embarked on this trip of a lifetime to complete something’s on my bucket list, so give me the space so that I can accomplish it before it's too late; the merchants have gathered in the town to begin the negotiation, and there is a long line of them stuck below the ground so open the door across the street so that they can come out of the ground. Come let me show you the mystery of the avenue that was swallowed beneath the ground.
Can words truly capture the essence of the lady on the hill
Whose womb bore eight but yet-
Has mothered countless others?
Whose hands dug deep to till the soil; to stretch outwards to care, to share, to bear another’s burdens
To reach upwards, ever acknowledging her Creator and God; to reach around to hug, to squeeze with compassion or delight
As I write
Can my words truly capture the essence of the lady on the hill
Whose ears were alert to hear the fear in the voices of each troubled soul
To support, to mould many a one through life’s turbulent maze
Whose eyes were quick to thwart the tricks of teenage ploys and tricks
Yet gentle to appreciate the ruse of youth and childhood frolic
Lady iconic
Can my words truly capture the essence of this lady on the hill
Whose feet have tread through communities, islands and lands
Ever seeking to break the bar of ethnic indifference or scare,
Touching cultures and peoples, near and far,
The Purcells’ star
Which words can capture the essence of this lady on the hill?
Whose lips utter timely cusps of wisdom,
Yet canny to deliver sweet quips in playful jest of laughter
Whose mind was quick to discern, while effervescent in joyful banter
Whose sense of style in head gear and African attire
Depict her spirit of life and culture’s flairs
Antigua’s dame
Her name
Adina, Hebrew in origin
Means delicate and gentle as the way she cares for each child, woman, man
And also noble, spreading a fragrance of peace and joy, permeating the hearts she touched
For she loved and was loved so much
By all
It pains to recall
But as I pause, despite the agony, I have hope and can smile
For she blessed us and promised, t’will only be awhile till we meet again
Her love ever etched in my heart
Will flourish like lilies in the dell
Tis merely a fleeting farewell
No, words cannot truly capture the essence of this lady on the hill or tell
Of the love and true worth of Adina Augusta Purcell
This unhappy man in the midst of flowing opulence lived
like a discolored precious stone in a box of rare jewels,
and was always sad like a dry wood in a lush green forest.
He got up one morning more dejected than the morning before,
threw the flower embossed curtains off the crystal clear window
and looked out to see, maybe for the first time,
the crimson sun rising in the flaming horizon
that painted frescos of rhythm on water of the river.
He heard the beckon of the river in the rustle of the
leaves as the cool morning breeze ruffled them,
and as the colors of the dawn touched his heart softly
like the petals of flowers embracing the hard grey ground,
a delightful sensation he never felt before,
and as the call of the river floated silently to his senses
the way the drifting clouds talk to the mute sky,
he walked with his face flooded with soothing sunshine
to the bank of the river where he saw a sand bar
rising proudly from the water in the middle of the river
and spreading a golden sloping bed for a small tree to grow
whose branches were dancing in the western wind
and the emerald leaves were shining in sunburst splendor.
These he thought were the expressions of happiness and joy
that the lone tree could generate as it grew free
in an isolated barren bed of dry sand bar.
So he traveled across the coral sea to a distant barren island
and like the tree he let his life take root in desolateness
and lived to see the dawns come with pristine colors to cheer,
the sea become tapestry of liquid gold in ecstatic sunset hours,
but he couldn’t spread his hands out in the embalming air
the way the branches of the forlorn tree did in joy,
his eyes didn’t shimmer under the sun soaked sky
the way the leaves of the lonely tree did in happiness
because he became a barren island.
October 8, 2018
Contest : Fiction - October 2018 Writing Challenge
Sponsored by : Dear Heart a.k.a. Broken Wings