a caterpillar in leaf's hold
spins within walls of brownish-gold
emerges in whispering spry
now my wings can soar in the sky
landing within fields of soft white
pure beauty beneath dawn's mid-light
close my eyes...malinger in sigh
now my wings can soar in the sky
you unfold in shadows of mind
memories of life and death twined
you sussurrate as death draws nigh
now my wings can soar in the sky
spirals of emotion now fall
as i see you within death's call
murmur with night a last goodbye
now my wings can soar in the sky
july 13, 2019
A poet's soul lay in slumber,
his pen a distasteful adversary.
A suffering soul lost in yesterday,
stumbled upon his somnolent path.
Enchanted eyes felt her nakedness
through barriers of her cryptic veil.
Echoing tremors of her broken soul
gently charmed his hardened heart.
Enraptured by her enchanted tears
he joined her capricious journey.
Her enigmatic elegance inspired his
zealous zealot pen to ooze musings
praising their charismatic camaraderie.
Drifting into the anomaly of her mind,
he became a victim of a Freudian slip.
Voices tormented her malinger mantra,
suffocating her into a maudlin malaise.
Reprehensible words led to bruised ego,
unjustifiable actions led to lonely silence.
An aroma that expired with her last petal.
A poet's soul lays in slumber,
his pen a distasteful adversary.
Silent One
Simple Musing
23 January 2018
Freudian slip
a slip-up that (according to Sigmund Freud) results from the operation of unconscious wishes or conflicts and can reveal unconscious processes in normal healthy individuals
Grass verge
Unnoticed florals;
Unspoken splendour
~~~~~~~~~
Crowded impasse
Wordless faces;
Feisty fest
~~~~~~~~~
Day hurls light
Sparkling tell;
Sleepy commotion
~~~~~~~~~
Forty winks
Sleepy delights;
Late morning sojourn
~~~~~~~~~
Dawn hurls sober
Dreams malinger;
Heavy eyes
~~~~~~~~~
By this wayside
Miniature flowers preside;
Beauty camouflages
~~~~~~~~~
Floral bouquets
Sunny side up;
Dazzling sparkle
~~~~~~~~~
Joy intervenes
Love delights all;
Intuitive spread
~~~~~~~~~
Morning rain
Icy cold feel;
Deep frozen dreams
~~~~~~~~~
Toy dog barks
Simple excursion;
Morning exercise
~~~~~~~~~
End of story
Finale certain;
Next season's preview
~~~~~~~~~
Mental pictures
Well-rehearsed;
Made to measure
~~~~~~~~~
Fond tact
Fine act;
New pact
~~~~~~~~~
Touching finale
Fireworks display;
Dazzling limelight
~~~~~~~~~
Mahjong insights
Family roundtable;
Fest mellows zest
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
09 August 2017
Singapore
Rakesh Rai is as sweet as sugar;
Whenever you are in deep anger
Go to Rakesh, Anti-hatemonger;
He never his duties did Malinger
He has been as sweet as sugar;
Soothes one down and is eager
To help whom problems appear.
I never found him an Ogre;
With him I always felt stronger
He can easily fight wildest tiger.
Problems does not persist longer
With him let it be old or younger.
With him tensions, no doubt, linger
A lot of worry and threats augur,
What use is Salad without vinegar;
Hard but useful is Rakesh like timber.
Rakesh sir is as sweet as sugar.
The materialist item creates anger
Is none other than ‘Money’, ogre.
If it is available with us meager
We become a source of hatemonger.
It can make us sit or stand with finger;
It can taste sweeter than sweet sugar;
If in hands, it makes its owner stronger;
So that he can fight with wildest tiger.
You have it, and live even longer;
And will be called even younger.
The materialist item creates anger
Is none other than ‘Money’, ogre.
With it tensions, no doubt, linger
A lot of worry and threats augur,
What use is Salad without vinegar.
More joy of money leads warmonger
Lack of money people did malinger
The mundane things calling it vulgar.
All those who to receive it eager
Know well that demon in it appear.
The materialist item creates anger
Is none other than ‘Money’, ogre.
They row, row and row
towards the sliding wonder world
of a fleet of dahabeahs
of elite on show
afloat on bubbly milky ocean-blues
like gold-threaded hammock of a lazy baron
flaunting opulence, splendor and élan.
They row, row and row!
The common coxswains in crowded little boats
carrying their weights, their plights
and half-fed entrails;
craving for the étagère at flotilla afar
in iridescent glitter; baroque and extravagant.
They row, row and row!
Sooner or later they come to know
there're no blades to their paddling oars.
They wonder
at their decreasing vigour;
and their decelerating speed
and find that lingering are their frail sampans in waters
the way their earnings remain stagnant every year
and the way their fortunes malinger.
From gnawing slosh of an acid rill
they smell the scent of their slowly burning hull.
Their dreams of joining the gentry at last will
prove to be as ephemeral
as the pre-dawn fog
that evaporates soon
when rises up the billion-pronged piercing leister
of gritty day-spring.
Till then, they row, row and row!
Walking, shrouded by the echt loneliness of reality,
I lost my gaze in the uniformity of chaos.
Souls in slumber, malinger around with an ever dying goal in sciamachy,
Rebellious against the fallacy within our Ethos.
As I stepped across these vast edacity of desires,
I alleviate myself from the conformity of reasons.
Excavating myself from forced judgement and guile empires.
Distant, detaching the maw for quantities of neologized Love.
Returning to self. To inchoation.
Susurrating under my breath while dulcifying my path.
Does choice comprehend life or destiny an absolute notion?
Drowning in mickle hopes while infinitely landing in the rough.
Though sessile within this flesh, I confronted the banal of my actions,
Experiencing the innate rebirth in an inane, fusty existence.
It's just! It's just! Confused and flabbergasted in knowing only in fractions.
I live dying in life, striving to thrive in absolute endless coexistence of inconsistent constants.
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