How we, as shop windows
Do present ourselves
You only, down any street
Need this but descry
Out each passer by:
Appreciably, what as gleams
For sweet fruit, a face.
Or less so (though not to some!)
A piece of chunky
Beef, alike juicy.
NICKELS AND DIMES
Senseless life
Value null
Homeless Man
Streets my home
Alone in roam
No Bed just a pavement in the corner
Passer by pennies dropped
Other times nickels and dimes
Life being bitter
My name I don’t even remember
Societies outcast
The unfortunate
A life that was once striving
Now not having
The forgotten
Family that turned its back
It’s beyond fact being reality
Weathered my own storms
Sunny days living in darkness
No one knows the trouble I am in
Tears that no longer fall
Words no longer expel
My own unbreakable chains
Despair moment
The street my education
Wearing clothes all I have
Sadness with no smiles
A homeless man stuck on still
Virtues no more
Just an image decorating the pavement
The fortune of nickels and dimes
Dreadful story
There you have it
Homeless man morse.
Minehead, or Skegness,
she never could remember which.
A monochrome ‘Box Brownie’
a smirking strange man.
She's young and beautiful.
They sit on a low seawall,
my four-year-old-self
between.
A passer-by took the image.
the lens was held too high
only the top of my tussled head
is in frame.
Despite this she had a copy made.
She claimed
there were other lost
pics of just us,
but only this one peekaboo image
has kept surfacing,
and I always feel twice blessed
by that invisible day,
in Minehead
or Skegness.
I reached a hand
Into the snow
The chilly ice
Once vibrant glow
It's Winter's wish
A painful spree
The absent warmth
Of no degree
Although I try
To stay alive
Your touch confirms
No love could thrive
Until the crystals
Of your heart
Can beat a path
Back to the start
I'll leave a message
By transient hand
No passer by
Shall understand
A heart-shaped sign
To melt away
Perhaps to write
Another day..
Dark clouds hang over space
With a heavy head , I sit desolate
A passer-by can tell by my stance
Or by a mere gaze at my face
That I have been beaten by the seasons
I bow my head and have a look at my hollow chest
To have a glimpse at the grey horizon
Behind my back
My weak knees support my elbows
As my frail fingers caress the fragile
Skin still holding my bones.
Why am I here, I ask my self,
For my whole being has been torn from me
Don’t insult me by leaving flowers when I’m cold,
Wrapped in earth unlived and old,
Something I can’t smell or hold,
Might as well be crates of gold,
Just leave the flowers in the shop!
Don’t blub and weep and cast a rose,
Upon the casket where I’m froze,
Beneath the black and solemn crows,
With whom I flew through ups and low’s,
Just leave the flowers in the shop!
Please,
don’t repulse my soul by telling tales,
As hades winds push through the sails,
You weren’t there when I came off the rails,
But as my heart lay on the scales,
Now,
here you are,
top hat and tails,
Just leave the flowers in the shop!
Don’t lie through phony gritted teeth,
Sprinkle soil or lay a wreath,
I preferred a sword out of the sheath,
As it was in life,
So,
I bequeath,
Just leave the flowers in the shop!
Don’t pen a heartfelt note and sigh!
Or smudge mascara round your eye,
You,
who’d gladly crucify,
Any random passer-by,
Honestly,
don’t even say goodbye,
Just leave the flowers in the shop!
A crawling held a walled frame as passer-by beheld too
A football helmet and high school pennant encased against a wall
Tapestry of day shades painted wall of ledged held rolled flag.
Do any of you guys wake up feeling great
And can't figure the reason why
Don't question it, just go along with the flow
High five every passer by
Some will smile and wish you a good day
While others will walk on by
Mumbling things like “What's up with him?”
“Escaped from the funny farm” they sigh
Wanna know the secret to a stress free life
One with perpetual good times
Where every damn day is hunky dory
And the big old world is in rhyme
It doesn't always have to be like a fairy tale
Always living happily ever after
Just seven days a week would be fine with me
With good times and a whole lot of laughter
Let me know if I'm overdoing this stuff
Love sharing my happy with you
Been on this kick for quite a long while
Guess a bunch of giggles are due
Theme : No more TV soar
Lyric: Anjan Dutt
Music: Anjan Dutt
Album: Have you heard?
Bapi and Mom
Both went out for a cinema…
And you all by yourself, alone
If goosebumps chill, and an uncanny feel
Just turn the TV on and then the rest, oblivion
I will be a friendly hand
If you would ever want to give it a try
To trick the cold feel all along
Look up through the windowpane.
And gaze through the sky
Pondering high
The up above sky and let not the TV station
Let you feel down!
The dinner is ready
Still brimming tears are a full blown reverie
Trickling down, very own
Hard to stop than ever before…
If you lose your cool
And it is all about feelings
Push and pull and push and pull…
Do not turn the TV on and sit in the dark oblivion!
See your friends are calling you from the high, up above the sky!
They all are calling you, for a new gaze to let them call!
A shadow of a dear on the wall
Where you tried, your fingers
Playing to make shadow, them all
And a bed became a fair play grounded in a prairie
See the sky is calling you, little passer by!
Do not let the Tv station let you down!
They run across the world in flight
Floating away without will
Dreamers flying in the night
Until the morning birds trill
The Invisible playing hide and seek
Till mind finds and chains
Once chained ideas leak
Flooding the mind as it rains
They spell the passer by to find
As they search hither and thither
Addiction placed upon the mind
Until so bound that it shall wither
Angering the waiting mind
By escaping the locks and keys
Leaving the despairing one behind
Shunning the minds pleas
The annoying game repeats again
In the Mind’s growing factory
Till then the thoughts mind shall retain
Till then the thoughts hide provokingly
The sheer maintenance of the probability,
Nothing is comparable to our garrulous mendacity.
Nothing can be called a consummate pattern,
Except for any tremendous aching, this life would only be a fallacious earn.
You are just an archetypal passer-by without any aim,
You want to play an unwarranted game.
Your loudest silence is another offence,
In this horrifying reality, you are nothing but an object of pretence.
I am only a creep,
Who cannot conclude anything by hearing a beep.
I am nothing but a remiss whisper,
Who always follows the astute pied pipers.
We are the prerequisites for the uncustomary laws,
You and I are awaiting the perfect pause.
To pause for the first time is to give us a promotion,
To resume our voice is just waiting for the untold damnation.
In my feathers, you will live long,
Throughout the flight to blessed hell, you want to sing an eerie song.
You want to reside in my flawless illusion,
This unfeasible expedition is nothing but a callous vision.
The many boats around sit in the harbour
One tailing the other now and then
Serried lined and flanked with one another
They pause for thought gathering day before them
The ferrous water sits so still in motion
As plankton line the sterns and afts like moluscs
Peeping over ropes and bobbing under
Waiting out the storming rain and thunder
They never see a passer by or vendor
Instead their vision remains steady on the water
Where promises of undulating sea throngs
Bring mystery to ocean faring wonder
He has a gift little perceived –
A mind for temperament and thoughts.
That he is one of privilege
Is both natural and mysterious.
Such witchcraft to them of fright
Puts them to good reactions –
Harmless to a passer-by –
Helpful to a set of events.
It was taught by a Master –
His mind is only existence.
We walk about – caught unawares –
Then he finishes my sentence
And with the magic he has –
He twists the day as we go.
For that I could kiss his head –
It impresses me so.
Teotl is the shining gold light above everything
Wearing a mask of white and grey clouds
Teotl is the breath and wind of all seen and unseen
Greeting all who return to its arms
Split a piece of wood, hear a heart pulsating within
Lift a rock, smell fine incense burning
Open up a flower bud, see threads interlacing
Know the turquoise snake shedding its skin
Be reborn as a splendid tlamatini
Remaining on the straight narrow road
Be a passer-by on the slippery land of mud
Walking between maguey and thorns
Walking towards the golden light shining above clouds
Poem inspired by Saying 77 of the Gospel of Thomas combined with Aztec philosophy (especially the concept of "Teotl")
Sketch
of Saint
Gracious
Honourable
Mother Teressa:
on board at road crossing
drawing acclaim, reverence
of passer-by and on -looker !
Idol of humble humanity :
Serene Pristine Divine : Great Persona.
05/08/23
Contest by Brian Strand
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