While the sky weeps drops of woe
Every child of nature seeks to stow
Layers of warmth against the coming cold,
Children listen to tales told of long ago
Of journeys bold on ships like pearls,
Majestic winds in sails unfurled,
Engulfed with hope of promised gold.
Now winds of cold strip leaves of gold,
Odiously pulling lives from summer ease,
Venom’s cold from mountain tops to seize
Every creature comfort from the sun,
Mayhap you can try to run
Beneath short cold days and long cold nights,
Even huddle in the fire’s light,
Ravenous cold still creeps through holes.
"Heart sets up vibration echoing wordless intent, mind translates in symbols
the flight of our soul’s ascent ! "
Where does the wind blow through when the soul is having its drink?
Intent on learning, living, giving, receiving, how does it come to glow?
If the stirrings of the soul are mayhap God's way of conferring, lets sink
into the abysses of His love agape and sip from the fountain of His know!
Does ascension of the soul happen while on earth or does it begin up there?
Are we aiming to grow like wild weeds, between the cracks of a sidewalk?
If the waterwheel of life is being turned by an invisible hand from thin air,
then we must be Kenetic energy, just like the water that falls by the clock.
Oh how our lives glow when we choose to take one single step for mankind
Oh how our hearts grow wise as we choose to live through Avian connection
Where does the wind blow through each time we are being loving and kind?
If stirrings of the soul mean ascension then we better give it good direction !
Like bubbles borne by sea if be this life—
In space of time a mere random moment
And still myriads of rare promises rife,
E’en bubbles as event can make a dent.
Wish, I see in waves and waters vast sea,
See common clay, in all pots and potter,
Wish, I can see the root reality,
See lotus not else than mud and water.
To Destiny, not so is good nor bad,
And still I cleave, create likes and dislikes
From things that are joyous, nor ever sad,
My clinging as a discordant note strikes.
And yet, I can’t but cleave and feel inclined,
Mayhap, in playful mischief God made mind.
__________________________
Sonnet |04.12.2006| God, creation, life
If I recall names till father’s grand sire
And no farther save my family name
That goes back to centuries or higher,
Which, no one did find it fit to reframe.
Mayhap, my ancestors did choose to teach,
Or way back in old times did Vedas read,
To which we now bare but curiously reach,
And say: what’s in a name save psychic id.
I scarce even justify my first name—
An ancient man, in battles hard to win,
But no such rare prowess I aim to claim,
And love to just write--- if my pen stays green.
Whatever fount whence this name might have come,
Let me handsome hymns for that wellspring hum.
__________________________________________
Sonnet |06.06.2024| name
I still recall that fateful day you came
To bless us—a day over three decades
Back, but still fresh in mind filled with self-blame,
So deep has been my guilt, it never fades.
I well can understand you were upset—
So hurt that I was not there to take you
In father’s fond arms, his proud eyes nigh wet,
No less than you, my child, the day I rue.
Mayhap, you had no time even to weep,
Nor wait for me many a mile apart,
Your mother in a deeply induced sleep,
You left alas soon as came, broken heart,
Perhaps for a more sanguine warmer perch,
To leave us in a pointless life-long search.
________________________________________
Sonnet |10.12 2008| daughter, father
Glistening cheeks
With emotions swirling high
Stormy sky
Just like the one inside.
One seeks answers
To the curiosities in mind
Why is life like this?
Who really am I?
When our conscience
Fails to hold us back
Only for us to wander
Along darker paths.
Perchance an angel may descend
A messiah in common wear
Mayhap a blessing in disguise
To guide us back.
At times like these
We may lose sight of the truth
And forget why
We struggled all this while.
One might doubt
Or even reconsider the goal
But to stand one's ground
Is to stay strong till end.
He who has failed to do his due,
Man’s been a sour fruit of God’s whim,
One cannot but come to this view:
Gone acrid has His grandest dream—
A nightmare and greatest blunder
Which, He can’t but regret and rue,
I see Him now in deep ponder,
Hope, a bright flash flares from blue.
Mayhap, God played a game of dice
With Destiny, a sure spoiled sport,
And now, poor Earth pays a steep price,
As man by far has fallen short…
Maybe, apes would have better done,
Aft all, poor Darwin was human!
_________________________________
Sonnet | 15.01.2005 | men, God
Allow me talk to you,
Whilst you're still alive,
Tomorrow is not certain,
Mayhap I will be gone,
Why should I wait your demise,
When I'll masquerade yours,
Allow me talk about you,
When you still have the ears,
Life is a moving cloud,
With no specific direction,
Allow me bequeath to you,
While you have the qualification,
Allow me exalt you,
Acquaintance is transient,
Let me give you a bouquet,
When the roses are fresh,
@Tha Formidable Cheru.
#themonk.
In blood-washed canyonlands a stallion stands,
soft eyes trained on a fire-hearted mare.
Watching her nervously circle the sands,
prancing forward and back; she weighs out his dare.
He's seen her run, heard her cry out with joy.
She wears her bright soul like her shadow mane.
An arrow of light free from ev'ry ploy -
Fate decreed he'd try if he would stay sane.
What does she think of his strange, silent way?
A rose grown in secret, till it bloomed true.
A gift, mayhap unwanted, brought to day.
Red riddle of romance, asked with no clue.
The stallion stands silent, waiting to see -
will she come to him ... or will she run free?
The last time we met I told you goodbye.
Perhaps I should have instead said, “Farewell.”
I never intended to make you cry.
Just thought I could be alone for a spell.
Mayhap sayonara, auf wiedersehen,
Adios, or au revoir might suffice.
I understand what I uttered was plain
And so, I failed my attempt to be nice.
Don’t say you would be content with, “So long!”
Not after we’ve dared to share what we’ve shared.
To say, “Go with God.” Well, that just seems wrong
When what we have broken might be repaired.
Don’t take “Goodbye” as “Good riddance, amen!”
Look at it as “Until we meet again…”
2/23/2023
Written for Writing Challenge G Words
Sponsored by Constance La France
The contests number 22
Oh, dear, oh my, what should I do
I must choose one
I must, I think
My printer’s running out of ink
I’ll pick a theme
A gentle dream
That ends up in
A freakin’ scream.
I’ll write a brilliant
Subtle Sonnet
Before it’s done
Already torn it.
Perhaps a bit of freeing verse
Meter and a line break curse
That taunts the temper of the muse
To hissy fits of “No!! You Choose.”
Mayhap I’ll wrestle with just one
Pick a form and hope it’s fun
Alas, alack, call it by name
This poetry - this demon’s game.
John G. Lawless
©9/16/2022
Bandicoot's bounce over my dead lead head.
Grim the outlook,
I am the grimness in my own storybook.
Moods are my mannerism's.
Gooey nose - a stonking flu
got me
now I mimic a monkey
with my bullhorn blowing.
When will the sun rise my eyes?
Blighted by sniffles, I dizzy and sway
to the 'Drug Mart', there to gag and goggle;
at so many meds for a bunged-up head.
Handfuls of hope
back to the laze-upon floozy chair
guzzling pills a popping.
Later, write this,
mayhap get pissed on some bitter brew.
Bandicoot's snoring.
A little peckish.
Here a glimmer
there it is, the shiny light,
feeling svelte in a sky bright blue.
Sniffing better, sleep later.
Upon arrival Forest Antler Ghost of the Oaks shook the leaves
She tweaked some of the mosses, so they were a bit springier
She gave love to the woodland violets and mushrooms
The north wind and the oaks always sensed her arrival.
They spruced themselves up a bit; the faeries were unsure
They felt something but were not able to fully see her.
The elves brownies and forest imps figured it out first,
mayhap due to their close affinity with woods.
And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” ~ Friedrich Nietzsche
Dance beneath the magic moon and listen to the flute
the stars will spangle brightly and then render you a mute
Twirl around the trees feel the brush of wind against your skin
the music of the forest has bounce it lives and breathes within
Bap Bap boom boom boom bap goes the sound of the rain
let it trickle down your face and take away your pain
life a technicolor beat in every note pure heaven
twisty water waves that flow with ascension
the music of the nymphs will take you higher than the stars
mayhap it will just guide you, all the way to Mars
They say when the moon rides high and bright,
And casts it's silver glow,
On fields and meadows, woods and streams,
And village streets below,
It's good advice to stay inside,
Not venture far from home;
For there are those of ill intent,
Who choose this time to roam;
But I find this a peaceful time,
A time that's filled with beauty,
When Nature shows a little bit,
Of the treasures in her booty.
The gentle creatures of the night,
Who hide themselves by day,
Come out to forage now for food,
And mayhap stop to play.
The owl, fox and weasel come,
A nighthawk gives it's call.
A deer, a hare, a little mouse,
All wait for night to fall;
And here I sit, I'm waiting too,
To go out on the prowl.
When the moon rides high and the stars shine bright,
It's my time to howl.
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