Long Unrepairable Poems
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Quest the shove your fate, my mate.
With the advice of the dough of joy sate,
To coincidentally run into one's soulmate.
In the way of other options, we baste.
Though worries were springing up thus briskly,
Settle on the result to uphold the rules swiftly.
Equally, dismiss woe's ragged remnants slickly.
Hunting by dint of endless strides befittingly,
Unrepairable harm might initiate uneasiness.
Shouldn't we venerate oddity and cleverness?
On the overall sum of scars stockpiled across,
Reliance is reckoned by integrity uprightness.
Defying scarcity's mayhem with disdain.
It doesn't reckon what term may sustain.
Unremorseful acknowledgment of a reign.
Each hurdle was cruelly drawn with pain.
Even if gentle, one should build expertise.
People-pleasing in the face of harsh peruse,
May use risk to gain fortune and to get wise.
Outperforming one's inner welfare also increases.
Yet, read stories' old age lots on the oozy listing.
Those that kiss beasts hazard flotsam beguiling.
While hunting for skill's idea, that follows on daring
Divine treasures that hazard using lugs embracing.
Written: February 04, 2022
Hope Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mohan Chutani
Wounded Earth
we did a big deal to destroy your dear earth
coming from a broken heart for you
letting you to melt in our quest of unending race
making you more sick and week
asking for forgiveness would be not enough
the damage is long long bigger
the trees mountains waters and air of you destroyed
bigger than the lenghts human greed
we have caused eminent damage unrepairable maybe
but have mercy on us
as we are children of your green womb
care for us still we are the piece of you
still we have for forgiveness
from our wounded earth
as want to repent for our deeds
from our melting hearts
forgive your children for the forbidden deeds
the surface of yours is not green now
the scars are deep and arid
still your children seeks mercy from you
please like share and comment
Presidential Debating
By Franklin Price
9/2/2016
Presidential debating
Will be a little strange
Only two to listen to
Not many to arrange
Just Hillary and Donald
Throwing lefts and rights
The only ones left standing
After the preliminary fights
We the people will be lucky
If we hear some substance there
In politics as love and war
All and everything is fair
One's a liar, one's a fool
Neither one of them's correct
Too bad we can't recall them
For unrepairable defect
Hope I'm wrong about all this
Hope one can rise above the fray
Hope one of them will be worthwhile
Hope we don't have to rue the day
I pound the pillow, curse the clock and mock injunctions to rest.
The sun finally rises and its rays slantwise fall through the curtains as I dry my hair.
A meal, like a forced dose, we soak ourselves in wasted, nervous time.
Finally! We arrive at the competition...
Tension is here and tireless pressure.
The players waiting stiff as straw, tongues playing over dry lips.
Teachers and coaches unapologetic in their pallor.
Music drifts behind us and occasionally gasps as imperfections play like daring circus tricks.
The sparkling prodigy returns disappointed, grimace of a smile, stricken, he stares away as we search for words, oh! clumsy, unrepairable prince!
Suddenly, its time and I wonder why we are hurrying, feeling weak, momentarily frightened to go there.
On this stage in this great, hushed hall, enormity suddenly dawns with mass enough to crush me.
At last I sit before this odd Steinway music machine - my dearest mechanical friend.
A tremble resisted - the reward of mortal afternoons - endless practices fruit.
Eyes closed I prepare my best self - pushing all fear, all doubt, to the margins - and begin.
I hope, to recreate, one note at a time, Chopin's ancient impact - with hands flying, like tethered birds, I hammer out his timeless melody explosions, his streams of crazily exact math exam fiery semiquaver motions.. then, almost suddenly, I'm done.
I stand, joyously, nearly crying.. The world hasn't ended.
(this is another throw-back - a piece of writing, from high school, used in my Yale applications)
I pound the pillow, curse the clock and mock injunctions to rest.
The sun finally rises and its rays slantwise fall through the curtains as I dry my hair.
A meal, like a forced dose, we soak ourselves in wasted, nervous time.
Finally! We arrive at the competition...
Tension is here and tireless pressure.
The players waiting stiff as straw, tongues playing over dry lips.
Teachers and coaches unapologetic in their pallor.
Music drifts behind us and occasionally gasps as imperfections play like daring circus tricks.
The sparkling prodigy returns disappointed, grimace of a smile, stricken, he stares away as we search for words, oh! clumsy, unrepairable prince!
Suddenly, its time and I wonder why we are hurrying, feeling weak, momentarily frightened to go there.
On this stage in this great, hushed hall, enormity suddenly dawns with mass enough to crush me.
At last, I sit before this odd Steinway music machine - my dearest mechanical friend.
A tremble resisted - the reward of mortal afternoons - endless practices fruit.
Eyes closed I prepare my best self - pushing all fear, all doubt, to the margins - and begin.
I hope, to recreate, one note at a time, Chopin's ancient impact - with hands flying, like tethered birds, I hammer out his timeless melody explosions, his streams of crazily exact math exam fiery semiquaver motions.. then, almost suddenly, I'm done.
I stand, joyously, nearly crying.. The world hasn't ended.
.
.
A song for this:
12 Etudes, Op. 10: No. 4 in C-Sharp Minor by Vladimir Ashkenazy
Part of Your World by Emile Pandolfi
We gather together by Emile Pandolfi
.
.
I thought I was going to be a concert pianist once - before covid.
Did you know there are piano recital competitions?
I wasn't a prodigy, I practiced endlessly, only to lose, eventually to one of the prodigies.
I competed in 7 'big ones,' two were international, and I came in second every time.
My joke was, "I'm the second-best pianist in any room.
I only switched my goals (to medicine - sort of the family business) when that fell through (Thanks, one more time, covid).
Tears fallen in solemn places
With questions why you left,
Even with the threats
Why didn’t you fight for the most important part of your life?
A mystery remains
Brewing in lonely corners
Familiar to that very deep loss
Unrepairable
Dividing the soul from everyday life
Hidden places to hide
No-where is safe
I know you remember
Because you couldn’t face home anymore
So it sat empty, as you looked at it from nearby
An empty house reflecting two empty hearts
Taken over by pain
Father and daughter…
Lack of resolution unexplainable remains
Because you finally left by natural death
Leaving the callings behind, why, why, why?
Heidi Sands
12/15/17
It's just a small crack
much like the one in the Old Liberty Bell
but here it is again growing,
in the torch of Lady Liberty's hand;
like any crack first made
it tends to grow and stretch
repaired yet recurring thru time
still inching larger and looming
over the freedom of mankind;
if you're not careful,
if you fail to tend its needs
forget or deny its original purpose
the freedoms, justice, and liberties,
those allegiances in which you once believed
will become crazing that erodes a little more
of unrepairable fissures that grow
fractures, breaking points that rupture and explode
as the cleft and breach of a democracy implodes;
until the world, you well knew is unfamiliar and lost
to a common-sense America no longer knows.
Once I held you close
My dear sweet loveless soul
So rigid cold jagged your
Edges left unrepairable scars
Tears caress my cheeks
Lingering in the fine lines
Of age so dimly left by time
But it was always you
Every dream every plan
You were just deaf to
My words my meaning
Distance blackened my heart
At times I felt dead
But until your ashes
Filtered through my hand
Despair disjointed tenderness
No longer alive and well
Or was it ever?
If but Love would it have
Died as fast as you?
I ask but I cannot answer
For I do not know
Lonely despair and emptiness
A void left unfilled
Miracles are madness
Faith is undaunting
Hope is but a glimmer
Of the next light of day.
If Only…I Wish…Maybe…
If only…
Shards of shame
Lay splintered
In unresolved pieces –
Bits of crystal intentions
Unrepairable…
I wish…
Minutes of regret
Not revived –
Living unreachable
In lifeless echoes sighing
No resuscitation…
Why…
In a whirlwind
A tornado
Uproots shallow graves
Screams at the unknowable
Unanswered…
Yeah but…
Expletives excuse -
Bargains with
The blank face of denial
Unrelenting tears of truth -
Pacing energy…
Maybe…
A star at midnight -
A wishing star -
Bends down in prayer
Points to a northern light
Always there…
Could it be…
Time makes a way -
Ascending
From ashes of stone -
Grace has its own mission
Acceptance.
8/4/20
(Lost in These Shattered Dreams)
Just a scar somewhere down inside of me
Something I cannot repair
Within the echo chamber of my mind,
Ghosts of broken vows forever bind.
In shadowed depths, a scar resides,
An unrepairable wound that guides
Through twisted paths of yesterday,
Living behind my own illusion
Lost all my dignity,
Where echoes of torment hold sway.
Living inside my own confusion,
I try to keep this pain inside,
A specter haunts, a phantom pain,
Bound by shackles of memory's reign.
Illusion's veil obscures the truth,
I'm lost in these memories
Living behind my own illusion
I try to keep this pain inside,
But I will never be alright
(I'm lost)
As dignity slips beyond reach.
Confusion reigns within the mind's labyrinthine maze, Cause when I'm alone
Trapped in yesteryears, lost in haze.
Yet still I rise, battered but unbroken,
These scars etched deep, yet strength awoken.
Though shadows linger, dark and vast,
I dare to dream of brighter climes at last.
To heal, to grow, to shed this weight,
Embracing light that pierces gloom's darkest shroud.
This shall not be my fate!