I have inked my verses
All day for so long
Poured my soul in pages
But got nothing in return
For being a full time poet
Poverty has ruined my life
Crippled my very spirit
Humiliation and neglect
follows me everywhere
My wrinkles and weary eyes
Speak of misery and destitution
So I have decided
To forsake my pen
Destroy all my works
Delete from memory
That once I was a bard
My verses will die with me
As I perform their last rites
Since writing has got me nowhere.
Categories:
obsequies, death, imagery, memory, metaphor,
Form: Free verse
Open sky,
sitting on a park bench with one arm curved behind a person;
teething smiles shyly undressing my emotional puristic like Adam re-unclothing in
Eden.
Whatsoever is losed of my ascetic,
may it free our eyes to tresspass into our hearts and breakthrough the binders.
Open sky,
like a shaded orange thingy,
serendipity might bring your meaning by a large dream of two days' worth of sleep
after I crept into your eyes and lost something I can't really tell of;
I think it was unshelved, a piece of my bestselling self; consequence: lost.
Obsequies: died for love, the form of death that kills the greed of my homesickness;
consequence: no return.
Open sky,
clear,
yet the sun will soon say goodbye.
Like good friends we watch his actual goodbying but not without the christening of
our love pudding:
sweet child in arm, the sweetest charm we ever cast...
Yours for all time,
burnt the bridge behind and it's a good thing I can't swim,
good thing, but if I could,
I'd swim in your own pull.
Categories:
obsequies, cute love, family, feelings,
Form: Free verse
The power to create lies not beyond my grasp
Pawns of my making;
Kings and queens, monarchs and matriarchs
Emperors and empresses, enchantresses and peasants,
Even those who dared defy the gods,
Dare not defy me
An incidental untimely flick of my wrist
Is all it takes to erase your ephemeral existence
From even the most ancient of scrolls
Hidden behind the hushed
Dusty antique secretive oak doors
Of the world of the non-existent
Your fate is just a dark dice
I choose when to roll
Trials and tribulations
Judgement or redemption
Non is far from my caustic imagination.
An easy concatenation of your eternal verities
Can simply make me mess
With the threads of your sanity
And knock at the temples of your sanctity.
Create and destroy, make and shatter
All is just a fragment of my power.
I can make worlds attend their obsequies
And rulers of your time bow at my feet
I would be inclined to let you be known of my presence
But of all, none of you I deem worthy enough
To traipse in the halls of my courts.
As for to whom I owe this ode,
Dearest, are you sure you want to know?
Categories:
obsequies, appreciation,
Form: Free verse
(Elizabeth II 1926-2022)
Are we - crow, blackbird, sparrow -
aware of what's occurring?
We cannot tell, they assume,
but gape and gaze from up here.
This is a land with a departed monarch.
We - sparrow, blackbird, crow -
flit or sit above the richness
of that marching red regalia.
Thousands of arms stretch, sinews strain,
cameras are held aloft
to catch the start of this queen's obsequies,
such elegance, such grace.
We - blackbird, crow, sparrow -
observe orb and sceptre on the magnificent pall,
witness the splendour, the spectacle,
delight in the sound of vocal souls.
Millions have viewed that coffin.
We - crow, blackbird, sparrow - see them gaping, gazing,
with its eight pallbearers, in their blood-red flame,
as this Abbey welcomes what they carry.
(Sep 2022)
(You may wish to see also "Trooping the Colour" of June 2022 and "Coronation for a King" of May 2023)
Categories:
obsequies, city, color, death, grave,
Form: Free verse
(The UK Queen's Platinum Jubilee was in June 2022)
You're at Trooping the Colour now, Dominic.
Were we not friends when we were schoolboys?
You look so smart now, Dominic, guardsman,
wrapped in the shining redness of that costume
under your tall, beautiful bearskin cap.
Recall that friendship, Dominic,
those distant days at school?
I saw your show on stage -
those school plays, musicals, but mainly ballet.
Such standards, almost worthy of a jubilee.
And here you are on our TV.
A performance, Dominic, seen by our Queen,
and millions, oh millions, of viewers.
You're at that Platinum Jubilee,
a concert full of marching men,
a march that is a parade,
a parade that is a ballet -
performing people, of course.
Would you wish to know me, Dominic,
now you're in your very posh world?
(June 2022)
(You may wish to see also "Obsequies for a Queen" of September 2022 and "Coronation for a King" of May 2003)
Categories:
obsequies, color, dance, memorial day,
Form: Free verse
Gelt
quintessential of the mankind
for bread and butter
for toys and desires
for a ride to long highways to high mountains
for a disease's physic to treatments to obsequies
Quintessential of the mankind
Owes to his sweat and blood
Owes to his sacrifice and slumber
Owes to his peace and passion
The gelt
The quintessence of their incessant days
The quintessence of their relentless dreams
And I want diamonds that owes to the gelt...
Categories:
obsequies, 12th grade, age, character,
Form: Narrative
My town nicknamed, ‘Mini Dubai’, burgeoned and branched
on the bank of Kanoli canal like a tamarind seed.
Now the silvered canal sprawls on its death bed.
Busy pedestrians walk down
an ancient bridge built by the British.
As the traffic light has lost its eye balls,
a potbellied policeman dances and controls.
Jalopies groan, and modern cars whiz.
A long whistle: an ambulance with the wounded
and a van with the wedding party halt side by side
as the southern and northern hemispheres
of emotions meet at a single point.
Nostalgic smell of the canal sops in the sizzling tang from a cafeteria.
The splurging women whirl in the hurry wind among the concrete
buildings seething under the tanning rays. The stink of sweat and
the aroma of the Arabian perfumes choke the air in shops, where,
sometimes, the chicanery peeks through the glassed. The
applications drafted in blood and salt scurry to the offices nearby –
only to get the obsequies in the waste baskets. The sots creep like
snakes in the yard of Snadra Bar.
A crow sits on an electric post and watches all beneath
with a smile of wisdom
Categories:
obsequies, city,
Form: Free verse
To her kin Catherine was I in flesh married
To my young beloved Mary was my soul wed
Too long that eve at my play we all three tarried
And all of six hours later was my soulmate dead.
In my aching arms where now lifeless she did lay
Catherine calmly the obsequies did prepare
Where I did but reflect in grief upon that play
"Is She My Wife?" which thought I found so hard to bear.
From her rich dark tresses I plucked a precious lock
To be ever after kept, held close to my breast
Her ring on my finger her death struggled to mock
While oft in my sad heart her spirit I addressed.
Without her who was so young,beautiful and good
The magic of family began soon to fade
Her memory my mind nourished better than food
The fine weeds did I cherish of my once fair maid.
My broken heart in my empty life for her will sigh
But Catherine sadly less and less means to me
Whene'er death comes,with my Mary I'll surely lie
And from my earthbound wife will I be ever free.
Categories:
obsequies, bereavement, devotion, family, lost
Form: Metrical Tale
ODOUR OF DEATH
Fumes of incense sticks
Death sneaks into the drawing room
Without consent of none.
Shivering mourning, snub off
With night spreading over
Remnants of obsequies
Twelve basket full of charred dreams
Odour of death smothering
Oh! mourn Jerusalem
Son of Man is beaten.
Next morning
Death has the odour
Of stinking mouths.
Over perfumes poured
Stinking death demonstrate a route march
Shrouding her wings
Death nothing but death.
Shuddering tears
Like diamonds-
Flame of candle bowing
Over the cross.
Time has come, sun drops dead
Flames fading
Trusting two ropes
The deceased sinks to bowels
Of earth,
A sigh of relief
Death leaves a photograph on the wall
Death smiles
My friend,
Comrade.
Categories:
obsequies, death, death, death,
Form: Epitaph
Obsequies final taste; within this secession from a lamentatives covenant....
I took this pomegranate tree and I crushed it to, make myself a natives chalice of wine
Still, it remained bitter upon my tongue so, I spit it into the turning paean sea!?
************************************************************************
....“Terrestrial Journals” *
Categories:
obsequies, hope, life, love,
Form: I do not know?
Can you hear the crying of the world
Hearts weep: obsequies of love
The crime of loving is forgetting
Categories:
obsequies, caregiving, introspection, life, people,
Form: Verse
The sunset splayed along the night sky
As we wandered by the sea
How desperately we seem to try
To drown our memories
One kiss, one love was then enough
Time for awakening
One beautious sleep, devoid of love
And hope of anything
Ah, how our dreams spread out before us
As we burn the past to dust
Salt-water tears for times long past
For all the thoughts we never had
Are our regret for souls of ash
Lamenting. All things never last
And moments pass; memories die
We hold our breath beneath the wave
Ah, here are opened up our eyes
Beneath the tide of countless days
As splinters of a moment
Break 'till there is nothing left
And hopes of all we might have meant
Become our emptiness
Does time then have no meaning
As we walk along the shore?
Will all hurts find their healing
Or are we lost forevermore?
Categories:
obsequies, faith, introspection, philosophy,
Form: I do not know?