Who so maligns a noble man,
None but his own self tends to stain,
The ash thrown over head,
On one’s own head gets spread,
O indulge in no smear campaign.
__________________
Translation |28.01.2025| wisdom,
Poet’s note: Sanskrit has thousands of verses of wisdom called Subhashhitam. This verse warns us against maligning others. Doing so reflects on one’s own credibility. If you take a fistful of ash and throw it in air, it would fall on your own head. The transliteration of the Sanskrit verse follows:
Nindaam yah kurute saadhoh,
tathaa svam dooshayati asau |
Khe bhootim yah tyajet uchhaih,
moordhnih tasya eva sah patet ||
Categories:
maligns, wisdom,
Form: Quintain (English)
silence befalls the play in winter's hall
birds stalled, stage-struck, do not call
trees with naked branches mime their lines
with no clothes their nakedness much maligns
dawn's curtain call has lights subdued
the scene is shrouded in dark hues, grey imbued
all is dank, cold and clammy with frowning faces
on the play's cast, struck dumb in their places.
the birds and animals dare not be called
for winter has all life frozen spellbound enthralled
hung up like coats and hats on hall racks, iced comatose
all things hibernating awaiting winter's curtain call close
Categories:
maligns, winter,
Form: Rhyme
Imagination reads between the lines
And there finds the secret fantasies
The coded meanings, hidden signs,
Imagination reads between the lines,
Discovers the message that maligns
Often writers’ concealed anomalies,
Imagination reads between the lines
And there finds the secret fantasies.
Written August 28, 2022
Categories:
maligns, fantasy, imagination, words,
Form: Triolet
Dreams of Peace
Peace is an illusive, transitory state of mind
Equality fiercely sought, for all humankind
Awakening to the truth, we are denied
Crisis among nations, propels and maligns
Ending wars, attaining world peace, a dream declined
Categories:
maligns, corruption, humanity, political, war,
Form: Acrostic
...inspired by 'A Cooking Egg' by T.S. Eliot
Ronaldo sprawled in luxury
across from where the spaniel lay,
he soldiered on with Mallarme
and, yawning, re-read Chapter One.
The Grandfather ticked ponderously,
there was no other sound in sight
except dear Josephine who plonked
and murdered dear Stravinsky's Rite.
Boredom was the day's absorption
with the National Election,
who shall be our next Great Leader?
pray not a hopeless interceder!
Clementine declared, 'the weather
seems to be a bit inclement,
what shall I wear to Blanche's soiree,
burgundy, or pearly grey?'
Ronaldo trifled with religion,
'Heaven doesn't need a poet
who maligns the Holy Spirit,
I am going straight to Hell,
where I'll meet Lucrezia Borgia,
who will toy with my affections,
feed me fabulous confections,
as she plots my own demise.
Nobility has late escaped me,
suburbanites are out to scold me,
gentle is as gentle does
is not the same as it once was.
Categories:
maligns, dedication, writing,
Form: Verse
In the style of T.S. Eliot.
*******
Ronaldo sprawled in luxury
across from where the spaniel lay,
pretending to read Mallarme
and yawning, stuck in Chapter One.
The Grandfather ticked heavily,
there was no other sound in sight
except dear Josephine who plonked
and murdered dear Stravinsky's Rite.
Boredom, and the day's absorption
with the National Election,
who shall be our next Great Leader?
pray not some hapless interceder!
Clementine declared,
"the weather is a bit inclement,
what to wear for Blanche's soiree,
burgundy, or pearly grey?"
Ronaldo trifled with religion,
"Heaven doesn't need a poet
who maligns the Holy Spirit,
I am going straight to Hell,
where I'll meet Lucrezia Borgia,
who will toy with my affections,
feed me fabulous confections,
poisonous, my second death."
Nobility has late escaped us,
suburbanites are out to scold us,
gentle is as gentle does
is not the same as it once was.
We're outcasts in a sea of trouble,
cucumber sandwiches and quince
have disappeared in all the rubble,
what price pomp and circumstance?
Categories:
maligns, tribute, writing,
Form: Verse
In the style of T.S. Eliot.
*******
Ronaldo sprawled in luxury
across from where the spaniel lay,
pretending to read Mallarme
and yawning, stuck in Chapter One.
The Grandfather ticked heavily,
there was no other sound in sight
except dear Josephine who plonked
and murdered dear Stravinsky's Rite.
Boredom, and the day's absorption
with the National Election,
who shall be our next Great Leader?
pray not some hapless interceder!
Clementine declared,
"the weather is a bit inclement,
what to wear for Blanche's soiree,
burgundy, or pearly grey?"
Ronaldo trifled with religion,
"Heaven doesn't need a poet
who maligns the Holy Spirit,
I am going straight to Hell,
where I'll meet Lucrezia Borgia,
who will toy with my affections,
feed me fabulous confections,
poisonous, my second death."
Nobility has late escaped us,
suburbanites are out to scold us,
gentle is as gentle does
is not the same as it once was.
We're outcasts in a sea of trouble,
cucumber sandwiches and quince
have disappeared in all the rubble,
what price pomp and circumstance?
Categories:
maligns, tribute, writing,
Form: Verse
If in these times we wane or waver
If those who question fall from favor
The consequence could not be graver
obscured is the terrible toll
Manipulation is slow and unseen
Lives controlled by a corrupt machine
when no one remains who dare intervene
Each person just playing their role
Tyranny's voice deflects and maligns
Propaganda alters the minds
The terms of freedom redefined
Automatons robbed of their souls
Categories:
maligns, political,
Form: Rhyme
Oh death why are you painted so black
you are white, a relief from hoary age
and pain wracked days. you are life.
The ego maligns you, calls you down.
You are a door another change
a movement on, not black.
Not black as twisted priests would have.
Not dark , not sin, not emptiness.
You are the next stage, the new birthday
show me, guide me, take me when my time comes
but not before, let me have this to the end
Let me love all of this as I love thee.
Categories:
maligns, death, hope,
Form: Free verse
...inspired by 'A Cooking Egg' by T.S. Eliot
Ronaldo sprawled in luxury
across from where the spaniel lay,
he soldiered on with Mallarme
and, yawning, re-read Chapter One.
The Grandfather ticked ponderously,
there was no other sound in sight
except dear Josephine who plonked
and murdered dear Stravinsky's Rite.
Boredom was the day's absorption
with the National Election,
who shall be our next Great Leader?
pray not a hopeless interceder!
Clementine declared, 'the weather
seems to be a bit inclement,
what shall I wear to Blanche's soiree,
burgundy, or pearly grey?'
Ronaldo trifled with religion,
'Heaven doesn't need a poet
who maligns the Holy Spirit,
I am going straight to Hell,
where I'll meet Lucrezia Borgia,
who will toy with my affections,
feed me fabulous confections,
as she plots my own demise.
Nobility has late escaped me,
suburbanites are out to scold me,
gentle is as gentle does
is not the same as it once was.
Categories:
maligns, on writing and words,
Form: Quatrain
...inspired by 'A Cooking Egg' by T.S. Eliot
Ronaldo sprawled in luxury
across from where the spaniel lay,
pretending to read Mallarme
and yawning, stuck in Chapter One.
The Grandfather ticked ponderously,
there was no other sound in sight
except dear Josephine who plonked
and murdered dear Stravinsky's Rite.
Boredom was the day's absorption
with the National Election,
who shall be our next Great Leader?
pray not a hopeless interceder!
Clementine declared, 'the weather
seems to be a bit inclement,
what shall I wear to Blanche's soiree,
burgundy, or pearly grey?'
Ronaldo trifled with religion,
'Heaven doesn't need a poet
who maligns the Holy Spirit,
I am going straight to Hell,
where I'll meet Lucrezia Borgia,
who will toy with my affections,
feed me fabulous confections,
as she plots my second death.
Nobility has late escaped me,
suburbanites are out to scold me,
gentle is as gentle does
is not the same as it once was.
We're outcasts in a sea of trouble,
cucumber sandwiches and quince
have disappeared in all the rubble,
what of pomp and circumstance?'
Categories:
maligns, on writing and words
Form: Quatrain