Long Submerged Poems
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Chanting vibes in Bangla, I sing
Bengali, words confluence in lyrical verse
O glory be! I envision thee in inner me
I caress thee in remotest pristine Bangla waterfalls.
Chanting vibes in Bangla, I sing
Bengali, words confluence in lyrical verse
O glory be! I envision thee in inner me
I caress thee in remotest pristine Bangla waterfalls.
Chanting vibes in Bangla, I sing
Bangla, words confluence in lyrical verse
I vision in Bengali, as my melody flows in her
Affection cradles me, while roaming this far.
Bengali speaks in Subtle poems, Jibanananda resonates in soul within
My yearning is quenched in thirst, as your face solace reason.
I ponder once in her tranquil face
I ponder there for incessant times.
I speak in my Bangla,
I speak for my Bangla
Submerged in Bangla,
I smile. Weave in verse,
and verse reflects in sense.
I speak in my Bangla,
I speak for my Bangla
Submerged in Bangla,
I smile. Weave in verse,
and verse reflects in sense.
I rejoice in Bengali. With all my exclamations
I mourn for the fallen, along the way, forgotten.
I cringe in silent cry, mourn as Bangla surges
Intellect fosters, too much helpless a situation.
I ponder once in her tranquil face
I ponder there for incessant times
Bangla is my resilient oath,
The sharpest aim in arrows in flights.
I ponder once in her tranquil face
I ponder there for incessant times
Bangla is my resilient oath,
The sharpest aim in arrows in flights.
I ponder once in her tranquil face
I ponder there for incessant times.
I love thee. My verses, Bangla, an eloquent evocation
I love along my Bangla , one silent simpering resonance
Bangla. O my utterance in my truest may!
I hold thy grace, with my earnest hands,
and boldly tell the world, say!
I love thee. My verses, Bangla, eloquent evocation
I love along my Bangla , one silent simpering resonance
Bangla. O my utterance in my truest may!
I hold thy grace, with my earnest hands,
and boldly tell the world, say!
I greeted her, on a generous moment
with grace and courage. Humility.
Where the Seven Oceans and merging rivers
churns in the ballads of the Ganges and the ever-enchanting Padma.
Bangla quenches my inner thirst
The boldest droplet that lasts for long,
I ponder once in her tranquil face
I ponder there for incessant times
And cherish for my evergreen murmurs of a Bangla song.
please lemme know and honestly profess
if profusion of words create a lingual Loch Ness
(when hens canst come home to roost
especially, encountering
the following conglomeration
in matthew scott harris patois).
He readily admits writing inventive
attempts usually ten tubby a literary mess,
thus finding innocent cyber cruisers
Angle fishing for Saxony fundamental fluidity
courtesy of Freudian stream of consciousness,
gabbling gibberish, muck not done on purpose
and certainly less
to impress.
Gnome hatter intent toward
cogency, fancy ingenuity,
levity, the inevitable
resultant wrought gobbledygook
fascination for Lingua Franca
feeble endeavor splutters, splinters,
and splatters Asia Yukon guess.
Paramour status analogous with twenty six letters,
sans En gull Lush Mother tongue confluence
finds me submerged (as an Arctic Monkey)
swimmingly enervated
via erotic laced sentiments
perhaps finds bravely daring soul madly
hollering, gesticulating floundering,
(in close proximity to Davey Jones's locker)
to avoid drowning at sea
perchance comprehending passionate influence.
Upon espying a signature poem of mine
forces one pre ponder ring lurking predilection
tib hush anonymous re:
dears (dares) adventuresome mettle
taking him/her to the brainy
(briny) deep brink
Icon fess
this (NON FAKE) pretense, why
aye metaphorically express
(via medium of ordinary Anglophile
alphabetic wanton soup,
or figurative egg drop bub
bling broth (el) doth brew)
pronouns Sibyl affectation
affliction sans plethora,
where each ladle full adrip with
richly flavor Verdana Font lee
and sincerely textured vocabulary.
Pluperfect mortals beings undoubtedly feel
(blindsided, how this hunger stricken author
suffers said sesquipedalian syndrome
particularly expectorating flashy
hoping tum bark on successful literary quest)
hyper aware aspiring paperback writers wannabe
might stoop to conquer, cheat, cadge
vis a vis plagiarize plethora
amidst storied plentiful English droppings.
Rather than succumb pretense feigning paucity
temptation to bask exultantly,
professed glorious unrequited love
announcing required sworn vow,
(el lye ding) avowed consonant covenant.
Form:
Lone sailor on voyage in sea of life !
Started peacefully in calm ambient.
Out of blue loud thunder in cloudless sky.
Hidden icebergs bring continuous trouble.
Sea of life turbulent where breakers roar.
Tough journey, yet to proceed not to stop.
Propel in tides - ebbs on rhythmic cadence.
Boat sways violent on trough and crest.
Life to wobble in thrill and in danger.
Ignite your soul to illuminate path..
Life to explore, agress on confidence
Responsibility is solely yours.
Competence and devotion is your guide.
Never to repent ! Never to regress.
Sail and sail , let the night winds sigh behind..
Let the breakers roar ! Sail , sail all along.
Accept the challenge: Meet eternity.
In sea of life lone sailor on voyage
Peacefully started in calm ambient.
All on a sudden thunder to outrage.
Yet to proceed without allowing rest.
Sea of life turbulent and breakers roar
Icebergs floating, nine times being submerged.
Giant waves swelling, aqua mass in galore.
Sailor propel in ebbs -tides chased by urge.
Life to explore, aggress on confidence.
Dedication and devotion are your guide.
Waves dancing on crest and trough in cadence.
Lone sailor sailing, night winds sigh behind.
Not to get frightened, let the breakers roar.
Not to lose confidence, you are so strong !
Not to regress , you are to reach the shore.
Let the breakers roar, sail, sail all along.
In the thicket forgotten of deeply anchored thoughts,
Where ideas nest, across time and tailored spaces,
There I stand, guardian of the undimmed realm, the archivist of the flame
That knows not extinguishing in the beating winds of history,
Guarding the pure light that does not fracture from darkness.
Shadow does not frighten me, in the tumultuous whirl of the ephemeral moment,
The virility of my pen is the bastion safe from political venom,
In my fortress of books, ideas, and eternally glimpsed dreams,
A candle of knowledge, a lighthouse piercing the fog of despair,
And my intellect, a fleet that can quench the thirst of the abyss.
I am the knight battling the windmills of forgetfulness and ignorance,
At war with the shadows that attempt to speak of present suppression,
A country does not parade its grandeur in the fleeting plays of political stages,
But in the echo it leaves through a waltz of creative genius in the world's libraries,
Through art, science, and the poetry whispered by blossoming briar circles.
A nation does not stretch into the arms of death when it is defeated,
Nor embraces the poison when lords change or thrones waver,
But on the wings of those who walked through the subtle circles of thought,
They leave an endless imprint of the dream in the springs of eternity,
Weaving its chronicles, over centuries and wisdom its people grow.
And I, amongst waves of misunderstanding and barriers of indifference,
Submerged in creations that speak in languages only the stars comprehend,
I traverse the fine line between present and dreaming eternity,
I build from words a wall that no terrestrial battle can crumble.
I watch how politics spins like an old mill in the fickle wind,
But I keep my distance, with my quill dipped in eternal ink,
Agony and ecstasy, in a wondrous dance of knowledge,
Never forgetting that the sunrise from my mind is the rebirth of the world.
Beneath my intellectual hoard, with its invincible nature,
I warm centuries, illuminate unfoldings, and cultivate hope,
For, regardless of the whirlwind that beats at my gate,
I am master of my counsel and the dream I embrace.
Politics may haunt the streets and squares,
But the eternal plays in the laboratories of my tranquil mind,
Where I, the architect of this human sanctuary, undefeated,
Weaving eternity with my intellect, remain.
Water moves continually Over land, evaporation and transpiration
common chemical substance
essential to all forms of life
the substance has a solid state, ice,
and a gaseous state, water vapor.
About 1,460 teratonnes (Tt) of water covers 71% of the Earth's surface,
in oceans and other large water bodies,
with 1.6% of water below ground in aquifers
and 0.001% in the air as vapor,
clouds (formed of solid and liquid water particles suspended in air),
and precipitation.
Can cause hurricanes when global warming extends
entire villages left submerged as in people's streets
submeerged.
Earth's water is contained
within man-made and natural objects
near the Earth's surface as water towers,
animal and plant bodies, manufactured products, and food stores.
Water moves continually
Saltwater oceans hold ing 97% of surface water,
glaciers and polar ice caps 2.4%,
and other land surface water such as rivers and lakes 0.6%.
Water moves continually
Water moves continually through a cycle of evaporation or transpiration,
precipitation, and runoff, reaching the sea.
Water moves continually over land
Winds carry water vapor over land
at the same rate as runoff into the sea,
about 36 Tt per year.
Over land, evaporation and transpiration
contribute another 71 Tt per year to the precipitation
of 107 Tt per year over land.
Some water is trapped
for varying periods in ice caps, glaciers, aquifers, or in lakes,
providing fresh water for life on land.
Clean, fresh water is essential to human and other life.
In many parts of the world, it is in short supply.
Many organic molecules as well as salts, sugars,
acids, alkalis, and some gases (especially oxygen), are soluble in water.
Water is essential for all life on Earth.
Humans can survive for several weeks without food,
but for only a few days without water.
more than one billion people
in low and middle-income countries
lack access to safe water for drinking,
personal hygiene and domestic use.
more than 20 percent of the world’s people.
close to 2 billion people
did not have access to adequate sanitation facilities.
leading causes of morbidity
and mortality in low- and middle-income countries, frequently called developing
countries.
over 1.1 billion people are currently without safe drinking water.
The soul is but a vast ocean of vigilance
Streaming with incresent colours towards life
Infinite within its parhelion possibilities
Relentlessly searching, betwixt the everflowing tides
Whereupon all things approach these providential probabilities
Of endlessly prolific visions thus beheld
Within the grasp of pristine pictures brushed and painted
Afore the overtures tubular bells; now sounding
Strewn, beneath the curatives silverish moon
Sirventes tunes, born, within fascinations bloom
These meant to be rhymes, amid Dorothy Gales times
Over somewheres prized amphoric rainbow
Arched imaginations, of fantasias floriferous creations
Breathing their pollinating light, within every breath that they breathe
Escaping the carcinogen caverns through torchbeared passages
Beyond the flesh rent falls and encumbering shawls
Carved crude, these animus meshed jackets
Encased within the chamber once laced
Unto broken bricks of concretes chained
Like Percivals plight....
Unmentioned between the lores, this wondering upon metaphoric shores
While barricaded by the calibrated stone engraved
Until antinomy could devise no more; yet
"If all we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream?"
Scream, and shatter these williwaws window panes
Awakening, beyond their oblique orbs of obscurities, void
To find 'The Holy Grail,' amid incarnadines blinding night
This veil removed, as clarity becomes now focused
Stepping from the shadows of the corners once webbed
Crossing, these sunsoaked sands of sunrises preached
With reaching hands, to touch the braille upon windings trails
Which only led back to the same gruesome pangs
Of a souls once upon a times, bound in maimed
Reading the writings on the wall, as cascading waters broke
The pinnacle of lost, tumbling and crashing to the reef
Belief, of a life breaking free from the dampened day
When faith became submerged beneath the assailant currents of
Hopes castaway possibilities....
Branded into their eyes, by the father of disguise
But no more as the clock struck three, and inversion, began to flee
Awakening from a dream, where nothing, was what it seemed
Dorothy Gales amphoric rainbow, draped upon a cross ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Percivals Promise!?
Form:
In a moment of magic I once gave her a juicy innocent peach
Not yet knowing that she harboured a sweet nascent dream
In which as a youngster she knew that she would marry the one
Who handed such a fleshy gift to the gypsy Queen of Fairy Land
Bestowed upon her by night’s prophesy she carried the vision of
Requited love and blissful peace brought by subconscious longing
And spiritual clarity of a Higher Power submerged in compassion
A passionate fruit with soft skin and one huge seed of togetherness
We eloped together into a new dawn
The doomsayers had a field day as they harvested bitter doubts
‘It will only last a couple of months and the peach will turn rotten’
‘You cannot feed on clairvoyant oracles and meek pagan beliefs’
‘They are deluded insane and caught up in misguided romance’
They called her a witch a seductress and labelled me irresponsible
With so much at stake painted pictures of broomsticks and failure
While we had found the jewel in a haystack without even searching
And set fire to the past as we danced naked around a fire of passion
We knew the truth of intuitive feeling
One can never be sure what lies at the end of paths never taken
Whether road blocks and diversions belittle emotions and faith
But they who ignore heavenly signs forfeit adventure and truth
Stay stuck in spent time and hail its dubious comfort at their peril
We travelled and found a small hut on the beach out of sight
Collected starfish and driftwood and caressed wounded souls
Carved wedding bands out of sea shells and called upon dolphins
To witness our marriage surfing along happily ever since then
A cormorant applauded the feast
Under a star studded canopy on the miraculous shore of belonging
We never strayed from what intuition and feelings offered for free
Meandered on the shoreline and set our sails into a magical ocean
Tasted the salt of a mindful earth and soothed our recovering minds
Never questioned the wisdom of our union shared by hungry souls
Treasure pleasure and joy weathered powerful storms and all tides
The cosmos donates all we ever need once we are willing to navigate
Waves and effervescence sparkling desire and in our case a peach
Leading the universal way
13th May 2020
Though the rain pounds outside,
Bidding everyone in my surroundings
To wear a grim frown
On their faces
I choose to open the door of my house
And to run, bare feet, in the open
Letting my skin be soaked
With those drips dripping from the skies,
Drips which ruin my brushed-up hair
And smear my made-up face
Making me look as messy as would
Be a cave woman!
Submerged in my own fluid realm,
I close my eyes
And dance with imaginary friends,
All who like me
Can only care to please themselves,
Without even opening their books to give
Their stories some space to plot out about what those
Who do not enjoy celestial showers
Would deem to think about them merely by glancing
At their clumsy dance moves!
If I choose to let myself be swayed by thundery showers
Or by the flow of the winds enouncing of how grand
Our world is,
So grand that it allows everyone treading upon its soils
Some space to enact for themselves,
Their own roles in a script which has been
Written by some higher power,
Why can’t it be that
We simply feel inborn in us, the surge to be like flowers;
Existing merely for our fragrance and our beauty,
While allowing life to create for itself
More artistry
By giving permission to bees to share our pollen?
Why can’t it be that
We see in others, the same essence
That inhabits us?
And since we shall all leave, someday,
After shedding off our useless and lifeless corpses
Why can’t we make our duty
That of understanding
That only when respect is given
Is it returned!
After all, when I enjoy dancing in the rain
I opinionate not
About those who stay indoors
I, rather,
Am so engrossed in experiencing the mystery
Of existence according to my personality
And the physical attributes that
Have been given to me,
That everything and everyone else
Become mere fumes!
Respect is my oars,
It allows me to keep rowing my boat
Further and further into murky waters
Since, armed with it,
Ancient creatures fear me!
Respect is my drive,
It allows me to set up my car
Into racing mode
So as to reach the finishing line as
As a winner!
Respect is my breath,
It allows me to be virtuous
While I transit in a world
Which shall never be mine!
Respect is my birthright,
I swear allegiance to it,
But
I make sure
To return it only when it is
Given to me!
So slick and sexy. Purred past Temple Bar.
That throaty engine advertising punch.
All legal London, strolling out for lunch,
with turning heads declared, “Now that’s a car!”
So many barristers are – if not losers,
low earners and slow learners. I was one.
I, plodding back from Penge, felt put upon:
a plea, a pittance. Now for Holborn’s boozers.
That mean machine was not for saps like me.
I turned my face towards the threatening rain,
and started wearily up Chancery Lane.
A cup of tea and, hopefully, a fee
awaited me in Chambers. Alloy wheels
slid sleekly, silently – stopped at my side.
That car again! I watched the window glide
wide open. And I almost had to kneel
to see the driver. Handsome. Tall and thin.
The shirt was pastel pink, the tie was silk.
The suit was Savile Row, or of that ilk.
His words astonished me. “Well, clamber in!”
And then the penny dropped. It’s Alex R!
Agility has never been my thing,
so Reaney waited, engine idling,
as I shoe-horned myself into his car.
We’d known each other at the School of Law,
but then our paths had radically diverged.
Me, in pleas and poverty submerged,
and he, the wide blue skies of Libel to explore.
“I’ll run you back to Chambers – beat the rain.”
He asked me what had occupied my morning.
For him, the King’s Bench judges were adjourning.
I’d copped a plea in Penge – how to explain?
The major stars had Alex at the helm
when they unleashed their lawsuits on the press.
Defending thefts of bicycles – and less –
was my domain. He ruled a regal realm.
His clients of the moment, man and wife,
were household names. They’d sold their wedding day
to paparazzi, who refused to pay.
The plaint was something weird, like “Stolen Life”.
The man, from Delaware, big hair, and Jewish.
They crank out movies like there’s no tomorrow
(Chicago, Basic Instinct, Traffic, Zorro):
the girl, from Aberdare – think Cher, and shrewish.
To talk of money is a vulgar thing,
but I was desperate to know his fee.
The forty quid I’d earned, I wouldn’t see
for months to come. His wrists were dripping bling.
We’d be at Chambers in another minute.
“So, Alex,” (best to blurt the damn thing out),
“a case like that. You’re looking at … about …?”
He grinned at me and said, “you’re sitting in it.”
(An Abenaki Legend)
Prologue...
After the reptile people had been devoured by fire, ice and flood, Kloskurbeh the ever creating Spirit, sighed, and thought about the worlds he had made across the multiverse, how his breathe had brought life to so many beings. Layers and layers of reality seeded into existence, but many had failed to hear his voice and in the end they had withered.
Legend...
One day in the Dawn Land
a boy came walking.
Many times the boy passed through me
without seeing
eventually I placed a question into his heart.
The boy explained to himself
that he had been born
when the foam and spume
of the sea were heated by the sun.
The next dawn, a girl appeared -
she explained
that she had come from the earth,
a green plant had bore her as fruit.
Time passed, the Dawn children
found each other and rushed to
be together, many morning babes where born,
and by the works of their hands and minds
they thrived.
Then hard times came (as they always must).
Famine came, meat was hard to find.
The mother could no longer feed her children
and she despaired.
I saw all this,
I prayed to Sophia the Great Womb Mother -
for yes even I am created from woman
and all souls are thus female.
I knew also that Nature once seeded, must not be
altered by any good intentions.
The woman ran to the river
wanting to drown her sorrows, the waters rose,
almost submerged she cried out
to whom she knew not what.
Then as her tears flowed, between her legs
green shoots came forth, she felt them, then wadded
back to the river bank to see.
Looking upon this miracle the woman had a vision.
She returned to her mate, and demanded that he
kill her and plant her bones in two piles.
Horrified he objected, but she explained her vision to him.
She insisted, so it was done.
For forty moons her partner stood over her bones
and sorrowed much.
Then one morning the piles sprouted plants.
one was maize the other root tubers.
The Great Mother had seeded Her ‘Will be Done’
upon the soul of the earth.
To this day children are fed by the Earth Mother
and the dark womb of Sophia
where all light and nourishment emanates.
The Algonquin people (after a good catch),
still bury a fish in the fields to honor, I Kloskurbeh
and my Great Mother.