Long Unfeasible Poems
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The idea of the midnight sun fascinated me for many years,
the scenario I feel like something painted on fantasy canvas,
an unfeasible panorama of the daylight that refuses to fade,
when it’s night elsewhere the summer sun doesn’t set there.
I used to imagine what I’d feel to stand in this northern land,
wrapped mildly by the sparkle of sunshine that never ends,
as if the world has gently slithered out of its usual rhythm
to quietly fulfill my desire for something my heart fancies.
My dream destination is Hammerfest, north of Arctic Circle,
where my body clock will break down in the timeless glow
of seemingly stationary sun hovering over the rocky horizon,
defining my dreamy moment of the time suspended sunlit.
Walking along the steep edge of the shimmering indigo fjord
I’ll pause to absorb the view of hills rising like blue shadows,
softened by the dance of the golden rays of the unsetting sun,
making me feel I’m in a world that always glows with delight.
My dreamland of midnight sun isn’t just a place of endless day,
it’s a sunny space where today and tomorrow seamlessly merge.
Draped in perfect perpetual light I’ll be enthused and expansive,
feel the magical hold of dream destination, maybe always I will.
Word-painting, they say; or painting with words,
In charm, it's charmer than most charming birds;
Feeling, for many, is its first foundation,
Expression, in words, brings affirmation;
Sentiment and muse must fondly marry,
Verses should flow-grand rhymes and rhythms carry...!
Does my work, yet, picture of life portray?
Do all colors intertwine, like sun-ray?
Do joys evade the scene when pains flourish?
Does bliss its jubilant psyche nourish?
Do feelings of fear, anger and surprise,
Find: it's impossible to compromise...?
What's the inner-flow of my florid words?
Are they merely beautiful flocks of birds?
Flimsy butterflies that flutter around?
Cats, rats, geese, cattle and horrible hound?
Do beasts of the woods and reptiles well-blend?
With their hitting and killing stories end...?
Do they paint pictures of human struggle?
Or stop just with some selected snuggle...!
The deaf, dumb, blind and the lame, who, in calm,
Add, to this futile life, tremendous charm...?
Young, and old who're, forever, deserted,
In my poems, with honor, inserted...?
Composing poetry, is not mere fun,
A divine mission, with this, is inter-spun;
Painting of actual facts should pave way,
Toward opening of a small headway;
Life without struggles is unfeasible,
Dissensions, yet, could be made peaceable...!
26 April 2022
POEM ON POETRY MUSE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Beata Agustin
A small hair-thin gap; this got widened like the Oman Gulf;
Life, as though within the mouth of a ghost, did get engulf;
No look; no smile; no speech; deadly movements performed like plays,
Physique and psyche moved like monsters, in deserted ways...!
Did we have unfeasible assumptions and surmises?
Like water and vessels, do our hearts change shapes and sizes?
When you happened to fall, I failed to hold you, I know well,
Have you, at my rises and falls, ever at my side, dwell...?
You counted your money; I, mine; we never counted ours,
Spending each one in our way we established our powers;
Our promises failed us; from fidelity, we were far,
Each bore in our hearts the failure of our former love's scar...!
The bedroom was our furnace; we yearned to be out of it,
From formalities and show-offs, yet, why could we not quit?
Intimacy meant just impulsive expressions of beasts,
While our bodies met, our inner minds had their other feasts...!
We're, thus, dear, in physique and psyche unbridgeable chasm,
Unbridgeable? Nay. Bridgeable with some enthusiasm;
All that we need is the willingness to live together,
Bearing a bit of the hardship of each changing weather...!!!
19 June 2023
I can't recall
how long I have been desolated,
and rejected by all,
living within these cement walls,
emanating wishes unheard by anyone;
staying indolent and thoughtless
with this soul gnashing:
so futile and drawn...
Too long
protected by loneliness,
too soon
to think of an incursion
and reprimand myself
of my impudence
for having been so inadvertent;
a reputed dreamer
demanding impossible things
to bring them to a conclusion...
Too long retreated
and secluded to have distorted thoughts;
and not to recite this pious prayer,
instead of an useless outcry...
Too deviant and improbable
to follow a straight course,
fight for something desired
to finally hang
my flag of victory
on the tallest pinnacle...
Too long
protected by loneliness,
too unfeasible
to undertake fear and be responsible;
my hopes are fraught with feebleness,
and my phantom
always wanders past a wan dream:
never to feel the emotional warmth of a hand...
Whether we are talking about the myriads of weather conditions,
or a seemingly sudden explosion of crime driven people,
or some unbelievable revelation of a pastor or politician gone bad; the
chances of such happenings unfolding without prior 'fuel for the fire'
are simply unfeasible. Intelligent Design plus Time and Space; And then!
Certain conditions are required before there can be rain. Then, it pours!
A high temperature has to be reached before the water in the pot can boil.
Then, it steams! Newborns are conceived, and the formation of them proceeds
months prior behind the scene. Then come joy and gladness! Not from nowhere, and never to oblivion, but with plan and purpose. And then!!!
04112017 cj PS Contest, And Then, John Lawless
He was growing old and senile and his hair began to fall,
And he perched on a stool to tell accounts of the past,
Of how he’d fought for his country and of his manifold valiant deeds,
Speaking of patriotic comrades who’d long returned to dust.
His neighbors sometimes thought that his stories were a joke
But elders who had understanding of the past
Knew his honesty and the truthfulness with which he spoke;
But we don’t hear his tales today for the old Musyoka passed way.
Not many mourned him, perhaps only his children and wife,
For he led an ordinary uneventful lifestyle;
He had a part-time job and a family, calmly heading his way;
The world did not know when death took his nationalistic smile.
When thievish politicians die of eating too much
Their sinful corpses honorably lie in state
While spoon-fed sycophants give crammed eulogies,
But a freedom soldier quietly succumbs to his unfortunate fate.
It seems the greatest contribution to the wellbeing of our republic
Is to lie to the people and severally break your unfeasible promises,
But the patriotic soldier who lays down his life for the country,
Goes unnoticed to his grave without the minutest of praises.
The earnings of a politician are more than their service,
But a patriotic soldier gives up his life to protect his countrymen,
Yet his pension is small and old age and disease the only rewards,
And an ordinary death awaits him at three score and ten.
It is easy to forget old Musyokas for they live no more,
Even disregard that such heroes ever went to the battlefield,
But I hear heart-rending cries from forgotten graves yonder,
Where old Musyokas and their devoted mates restlessly lie.
They cry, “sons and daughters, we died like common folks,
Yet we are the reason why you enjoy the peace you have,
We lost our arms and legs and most of us died cheap as a fox;
Will you deny us a simple and costless thing such as honor?”
I loathe hearing the fallen old Musyoka and mates haunt me so
But I’m not the commander-in-chief of the land,
Nor am I some legislator in the August House,
I can’t honor a fly, but old Musyoka won’t understand.
The sheer maintenance of the probability,
Nothing is comparable to our garrulous mendacity.
Nothing can be called a consummate pattern,
Except for any tremendous aching, this life would only be a fallacious earn.
You are just an archetypal passer-by without any aim,
You want to play an unwarranted game.
Your loudest silence is another offence,
In this horrifying reality, you are nothing but an object of pretence.
I am only a creep,
Who cannot conclude anything by hearing a beep.
I am nothing but a remiss whisper,
Who always follows the astute pied pipers.
We are the prerequisites for the uncustomary laws,
You and I are awaiting the perfect pause.
To pause for the first time is to give us a promotion,
To resume our voice is just waiting for the untold damnation.
In my feathers, you will live long,
Throughout the flight to blessed hell, you want to sing an eerie song.
You want to reside in my flawless illusion,
This unfeasible expedition is nothing but a callous vision.
To be immortal. How would THAT work out?
To keep a youthful look forevermore
I think would be incredible – no doubt!
Would all the chronic pain that I deplore
become unfeasible? That would be swell!
To outlive history! How would that be?
I’d know the follies of mankind so well
but probably have no ability
to stop the madness! Finally, what of
relationships when all of my own kin
I would outlive? How could I look for love;
watch them die over and over again?
I think it’s better to face death one day.
The spirit is eternal anyway!
An oldie
Submitted currently for Anoucheka Gangabissoon's If I Were Immortal Contest
So, the glistening aim noticeably passes by,
So, the dangerous motion formidably goes by,
So, the unknown one remains unknown for the time being,
So, one is ahead of the petty singing.
The one and only is good-natured and well-behaved,
He is favoured and well-blessed.
Though the great Guide is sacrificed, done and dusted,
The honest being is fit, fine, and well-crafted.
The physical existence is going to be dealt with,
The mirrored organizations are going to vote for the myth.
The glass is going to be blurred by its connotations,
The pure man is defined by his situations.
The window is becoming larger day by day,
The commentators are solitary soldiers in their own way.
The perception is becoming blinded,
The light is the only lie that is provided.
Here, the perfect human is the representative of his species,
Here, he has grown up with his lengthy speeches.
Here, he is no longer unknown or unfeasible to catch,
And therefore, he has everything else to match.
The masses are being controlled
Our freedoms restricted and put on hold
All leaders following the same playbook
Robbing their people hook and by crook
Tax cuts for rich friends and themselves
Maybe not to late yet, to help ourselves
Preaching on tv, we are in it together
Just a slight storm we have to weather
Children and the poor going hungry
Happening now in every country
Cant afford food, heating or clothes
Huddled in our homes starving and froze
Still they keep robbing the public money
Like big fat bears robbing the honey
Cost to just live and breath unfeasible
Ask for a little help, get called unreasonable
Yet they have money when it comes to wars
Not using their own, but yours
Causing atrocities and death in our name
Yet no money for us, they have no shame
We the people now under their thumbs
In their lavish houses, while we eat crumbs
They distract us, have us hating each other
The few sensible voices of reason they smother
The homeless, not working or by race
Just to subjugate and keep us in our place
Something needs to change, open your eyes
When they open their mouths it is all lies
With social media, we all have the power
This is now the time, this is the hour
Time to breaks the chains from the parasites
Stand up for ourselves take back our rights
No more wasting our money on wars and death
Spend billions on people, let us prosper instead