Painstaking Poems

tumi mor pao nai porichoy

Clueless unborn thou art my song
The song for so long flew was not known, a long gone for so long soaring unborn
Adored the floral fragrance in, gone dried in mundane time left behind
The glow was an off beat startled, not to be, a neverland to greet beside. 
The gust of a windy high, never there, never to try to recite , alongside

Come along my pensive sorrow, come along my kindled candle, burning strong
Come along for the valiant cause to stand headstrong through the darkest depth of the long
Death and her kissing diva, may find and so shall   the cause be, the innermost song
With the pensive, painstaking , overcoming a morbid with a churned in mayhem
To greet them all , and all, undefeated, never in another succumbed in Bethelhem.



Raga: voirabi
rythm:kaharba
composition (bangla): 1332
composition  (after christ): 1925
lyricist: dinendranath thakur

18 sokatore oi kadichhe sokole

Earnest a teary congregation, heavenly father, heed us in our prayer in humbling a fearful soul  
Response in  supplication, soul builder say, in a pristine may ,within cosmic and mundane role
The longest miriam word  is rousing astounding intimidation , often a nihilism and so, fanciful
Raised hands in supplication , in praising a bounty,a meager churn, a lost console, my sensible
For a sheer soulmate, troubadour a voyage, trip ahoy, yearns along the cosmic, a divine depart
A disillusionment enhanced the sundance headstrong, a choregatherer , along  a fossil, a desert
The day is done, the painstaking unborn, the twilight hue approaching you to my arty, revered
Trickling a melt downpouring a tilt , a healing zeal in fear and in solitude, outcry,lo and behold!
All encompassing a dearborn, majestic an unseen depth of a hymn song delight , ruled recalled
A reverie down the memory lane, a croon before the mundane along,  do rush more to myriad.

Walking Miles in the Dollar Store

For three hours, I wait.
Is patient the word?
A friendly face, too soon?
Still, when your old
you have no time

for particulars, need to tell
your story to who will listen;
and walk miles and miles
of aisles in the dollar store
where your friend
never goes; and you tell

her about the rose;
and eventually
Mary and Martha meet,
having never crossed paths
before, and
probably nevermore this side
of heaven; and
the painstaking path
has been blocked.

For three hours I wait
to retreat, as
my husband texts me -
I mean I’m not that far away,
yet, time seems to travel.

Now, I’m quite familiar
with the products sold.
I bought a plastic box
(for a wig I used for my sister’s party);
a yellow, smiley face neck pillow,
nail wraps and nonpareils.

The jaunt of longsuffering,
surely was worth my time;
I survived. This was merely
the end of a very long day.
I’ll not bore you
with the unusual beginning.

Back home, I stuffed my face
and watched a show with my
husband. It was after seven.

I will see all of this reel as a real blessing
and be glad I didn’t stand anyone up.

This is late, and thus long!

Nihilism, 
write thirteen beautiful lines, 
the longest one in the merriam-webster
Cosmos and cosmic, 
Lunar eclipse and Aurora Borealis, 
milky way and the interstellar

Synecdoche, 
you and I are no good 
to linger longer with the charm in an alternative essay

The round trip home 
is often the loneliest deadly, a painstaking pain, humble
to tone down a possessive aimless, of little or no mayhem, subtle 
mascara, eloquence and dropping gets a lot of sounds for the sounding clay 

and I drop the course

Underneath the moonlit night, they gather even for the balcony light and sing
those impeccable songs, one after another
What is a good read line for a mystic moon?

a mundane, a seamstress or your song! Soaring high at midnight to fly along the moon!
Keep this simple, you are giggling beside you, and you are fixing the econo cap too, a croon!
This is late, and thus long!

porodeshee megh

  Wandering cloud, turn back to your return voyage, a safe trip home	
   Send these to my reverie soul, one of a nomadic troubadour, vagabond   
  When down pouring rain moisten the topsoil of thy land
  They do shed tears, heartache, with a lonely "room", happening in unknown
  the heartache in leaving would play along the flute beside even the river Jordan.
The heartbreak of a rainy day charmed when a night lightening " O my own!"
A heartbeat sank there in painstaking pensive in Eden Garden
When flowers blossom, a moon arises
the night takes a stay for a streak of moonlit whim, wishful in flight, to soar high and keen!
None is slandering the shy gaze and the household subtle maze, to the ever sustaining one!
   

(February 2025)

Beyond the Threshold

In search of the truth,  
To understand the invisibility of the cosmos,  
He journeyed into the deepest parts.  
He went beyond the threshold of light,  
Experiencing both assimilation and infiltration by dark energy.  

He consumed everything he encountered,  
Forgetting that there’s a sound in silence to which the mind should be attentive.  
There was a deluge of information,  
But no painstaking sifting through the truth.  
He became enmeshed in the horror of the unveiled.  

He found himself in a world of strange theories,  
Juxtaposing and infusing art, mysteries, and truth.  
He travelled this path,  
Colonised by the tendrils of what he had absorbed.  
Until one day in a dream,  
He met a sage who advised him to search the scriptures,  
Going beyond the words to seek the embodiment of its light.  


February 9, 2025.

fashion messaging

Vintage Chanel lives rent free in my mind
the colors are deep, subtle and magical.
Over time, the originally soft textures,
become luscious like a lover's caressing touch

In college, you dress down,
you want to blend in, not stand out
gods forbid you flag entitlement
and draw envy's barbed compliments.

The simple styles bear the twin burdens
of camouflage and practicality.

In Paris, fashion can be capricious,
but elegance is a silent conversation,
with its own intricate vocabulary in drape,
line, fabric and in painstaking choice.

In places where fashion matters - Paris, Manhattan, the Hamptons,
it can signal position, the way uniforms signal authority everywhere.

A splash of fashion can not only have a fabulous effect
on how its wearer feels, it can tell important stories.

I’m told that, in back rooms, where fortunes are awarded or lost,
fashion can announce arrival, rank, and intent.
It can whisper new wealth, in upstart display
or a threadbare, silent duel with mounting debt
.
.
Songs for this:
The Way It Is by Bruce Hornsby & The Range
Read Between the Lines by The Bingtones

Different strokes

(Our differences are like the pieces of a puzzle called life)

What does humanity want from life, it’s puzzling to know
Peace signs, Daisy cutters, find Jesus in the afterglow 
Seek out seventy two virgins, priming fuses to blow?
Come together in jannah, with a godlike libido

Write painstaking poetry, devoid of human ego
Kill every known disease, have a chat with a mosquito
Build a chocolate empire, watch fatty deposits grow 
Start a protein only diet, get ripped from head to toe?

View b movie stars at night, (censure) the matinee show
Have no more hangovers, enjoy life utterly blotto
Bring back prohibition, replace it with a pink benzo?
Smoke marijuana safely, vaporise tobacco

Play chess at home with the wife, or away with a bimbo
Give a hand to starving wolves, then go howl out the window 
Let a child get carried away, not by some wild dingo?
Set the bar high enough, flambé for a life of limbo

Arts and Crafts

Trying to piece together my past
Gluing together the fractured pieces
Hoping the memories will continue to last
Unlike the gaps existing in my mind

So come along together with me
And let's play arts and crafts
Distinguish the flashbacks I see
With what was really reality

Do I truly remember the words that were spoken?
Or is what I remember obscured by calamity?
I see visions of the past when I am awoken
Reliving the horrors my conscience has redacted

Arts and crafts to put myself back together
Turn me into your most painstaking project
As my chronology is scattered like the weather
And maybe one day I can be fully crafted again

But for now I still cry myself to sleep
Tears wilting up the paper sheets
As I drown abandoned in the deep

With Each Morning

Each morning dawn brushes paint across the sky,
pastel colors to herald the rise of sun's golden eye.
He warms the earth. Dew's moisture he'll dry
before the world is waking.

Reflections of pink, and gold on heaven’s floor,
a hint of memories that came millenniums before,
and the radiance of God’s glory, eying from behind the shore,
is a new dawn, for our taking.

Sunrise lights the world as if it were enchanted.
Beauty surrounds us but nature is taken for granted,
marred by opinions, biased and slanted. 
Hostility is of mankind's making.

Memories of soldiers as they marched off to war,
Some never returned, and others living with the encore
of battles fought and lost, wondering what it was for.
Nightmares that wake them, shaking.

But with each morning arrives glowing rays of hope.
Glimmers a new day brings and with it a way to cope
with life's hardships that make us walk a tightrope.
It's a painstaking chore: peacemaking.

The day will come when there will be an end of strife
in a world where corruption and fear are rife.
There will be no more war. Men will sheath the knife
Life will be idyllic, for which hearts have been aching.

The Way We Look

The outward shows itself,
It is the portrait on the canvas,
We overlook and bypass,
Its message is in the mind of the painter.

There's a restraint,
The outside is the constraint,
We need to push through its walls,
To see what is in the stalls.

It’s human to judge by the cover,
It’s what meets our eyes,
Our elements hover,
They hinder us from breaking through the ice.

It takes a painstaking effort
 To push beyond the boundary,
Though we appear stationary,
We've transcended the barriers.

We're on a flight to a new realm,
We've gone beyond the helm,
Peace finds our being,
The enclosed we have seen.



January 10, 2023.

Curiosity

The curiosity of babies,
The search in their spirits,
The sojourn in their minds,
The depth in their eyes.

The curiosity of babies,
The search in their steps,
The unravelling in their findings,
The travail in their voices.

The curiosity of babies,
The trouble in their eyes,
The hurt in their gestures
The gloom in their moods.

The curiosity of babies,
The painstaking in their efforts,
They are unyielding in their journeys,
The turbulence in their pursuits.

The curiosity of babies,
The pains in their misdirection,
The scars in their unguided moments,
The losses in random places.

The curiosity of babies,
The joy in their hearts,
The merry in their voices,
The smiles on their faces.



December 15, 2022.
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 23 Poetry Contest,
Mark Toney.

We'Ve Been Trumped

Sometimes it can be very painful,
    Or just plain embarrassing to admit.
When an icon fails to reach the pedestal,
    And their fraud is hard to acquit.

The effort involved in this fabrication,
    Took decades to sharpen and hone.
Where the 'PR' folks worked their magic,
    Creating a genius instead of Al Capone.

This 'con' reached upon new levels,
    With a portrait that extended coast to coast.
While a legendary status from industry
    Followed, Hell, politics would be simple as toast!

And while this chapter remains unfinished,
    A nervous nation awaits the painstaking review.
As the truth becomes convincing to judgement,
    And the illusions disappear without a clue.

The Donkey of Destiny

The Donkey of Destiny

The party was set, the guests were invited,
The adults were happy, the kids all excited.
All going to plan; the hosts were delighted,
Then the Donkey of Destiny brayed – he-haw!
The Donkey of Destiny brayed.

The Board of Directors set forth their campaign,
To conquer their industry, supremely reign,
To guarantee ultimate financial gain,
Til the Donkey of Destiny brayed – he-haw!
The Donkey of Destiny brayed.

Military leaders made their decision,
Troops were deployed with painstaking precision.
Soon they would realise their tactical vision,
Then the Donkey of Destiny brayed – he-haw!
The Donkey of Destiny brayed.

To amuse the young children, a day out was planned,
Buckets and spades and sunshine and sand.
Ice-cream and fish-and-chips; seaside brass band,
But the Donkey of Destiny brayed – he-haw!
The Donkey of Destiny brayed.

There’s nothing as fickle as Destiny’s Donkey,
Capricious as weather, and sly as a monkey,
Be certain that everyone’s hopes will turn funky,
When the Donkey of Destiny brays – he-haw!
When the Donkey of Destiny brays.

Mending Fences

Last trails of sunlight splinter
the slats
of the old broken down fence
a reverence reflecting
painstaking perseverance
in less than perfect times

but I remember them perfectly
the excitement of colour
caressing the grains
seeping into the pores
each coat brushed with care
again and then again
not knowing or caring what was in store

wild passion filled nights
under the moon
pressed and in tune
who would have thought
they'd be gone way too soon

storms blew in
and they took their toll
the fence once strong
now full of holes

I stand and stare and wonder so
if I should mend this fence
or up and go

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