looter marauder
a freebooting buccaneer
plundering pirate
pish posh thievery
pillaging provoking
sought by females
The point of no return comes suddenly,
and without a whit of subtlety,
saying: I told you at the start
that blaggard has a darkened heart,
and no amount of rosy coloring
will stop his faithless plundering;
and still you go running back for more!
Hyacinth Hands
Mother, ego-cracker, birthed an embodiment of freedom plaited with slavery
petunia planter, marjoram with Malay curry and rice, yet scarcity her best performance when hunger a primary protagonist
my leap into Sovereignty depended on unraveling karmic bonds binding us through lifetimes, countless ages, sotto scenarios
Piscean, she scaly presented the toughest tests with hyacinth hands, only an embattled Heart would accede to
her non-relinquishing of my spinal cord nerves entwined with hers, she decorated with wondrous wild animal decoupage vases
to despairing detach from plundering pain, each principal pleasure she designed with subtle oomph, unconscious sophistication
my divinity would have back burned in futuristic coliseums had she not been Mother of trialing pegs and variegated embroidery cotton
Now this species known as modern mankind
Goes after selfish aims to feed its mind
Its actions all focus upon self gain
And so it must pursue its greedy game
Its every effort is aimed on profit
And in this pursuit it wrecks the planet
It's happy when it's grabbing all in haste
But we must not mention its filthy waste
It exploits for it's always on the make
Plundering and polluting for its own sake
It fails to see there may be some comeback
When Mother Nature starts to give it flack
Maybe this species that's known as mankind
Will open its eyes and then change its mind
Fragile, delicate, beautiful thus rare
Three thousand meters above sea
In marked territory, listening to
Gurgling downward flow of
Waters of the sacred hill
A precious bloom stays
in the shades of tall trees.
A three feet high plant
Shy of sunlight,
Shy of plundering human hands
Shirui Lily, a pale pink bell-shaped
Flower that carries many tales
Shows rainbow colors
Through Microscopic lens.
Snubbed for being
So very mild, a lily
Not seen elsewhere
Bows gently to tell
Mother earth –
If I ever live
I live only here.
Scientists say we have neanderthal genes,
and that set me to wondering
what all this interbreeding really means -
was it the result of rape and plundering?
The homosapiens made rocks into tools
and were smarter than neanderthals by half,
but neanderthals were willing to play the fools,
and she said, "he makes me laugh".
Can we not show some love for Planet Earth
For it is suffering from our brutal way?
From it we plunder everything of worth
As our numbers grow more and more each day.
We turn resources to polluting waste
That poisons the air, oceans and the land
As we blunder forth with increasing haste.
The truth we do not want to understand
For this would show that we must curb our greed
That would put at risk our self-cherishing.
But we just let our precious planet bleed
As we’re addicts of reckless consuming.
Can we not show some love for Planet Earth
And stop plundering it for all its worth?
The mellow western sky darkened,
The sea was calm that night,
Yachts tacking across the bay
Towards their appointed piers.
Luminous moon rays shimmer
Over wavelets that bathed
The coloured pebbles
Strewn all over the long shore.
As night slowly fell
I began my walk along the promenade.
A soft breeze was a welcome to all
Especially to the sailors that plied the bay
In their sleek sailing boats
Now tinged in red by the dying sun.
Along the promenade, I met with friends
A few words of salutation
But I hurried on toward an ancient tower
That once stood guard against pirates
That invades the surroundings.
Plundering and taking slaves with them.
The Tower was now a restaurant,
And there sat my love waiting for me.
The breeze-blown brightness of her hair
Seem to invite me to our destined tryst.
She stood up and we embraced,
A soft kiss on her wet lips.
It was a promising beginning
Of our night of love.
She lived in a castle, isolated,
Time flew slow, gruelling and full of hatred,
The crown lay broken on the floor,
Shattered, scattered, one piece no more.
Royal duties thrown away, Pirates life, plundering, stealing,
But not knowing the tight, suppressed feeling,
Of hatred to themselves,
Sadness, madness hidden on the shelves.
As they drown there worries in the sea,
Emotions revealed after tremendous tragedies,
Ship sunk at sea, forgotten princess lost again,
Unstable, betrayal, no strong knight to save them.
They drown in their guilt,
Mistakes from their pasts rebuilt,
No army to pull her out of the water,
Unknown memories sown; their love slaughtered.
They are witches on the beach
laughing at their menfolk
finding them wanting
but who is the dark now ?
with gilded wings they flock
like a midnight minotaur
dim of sight
They make their way
through the miers
plundering both Silesian winters
and Sumerian summers
only wanting to drown
the tulip of hope
From my domain of desiccated wasteland,
the dust soared on the wings of plundering wind,
wafted across the burnt canopy
of the lone magnolia tree,
I nurtured with love for many years.
The storm scraping the sands of the listless time,
rose from the dusky horizon of distress,
swept away the dislodged leaves.
In their rustle I heard them whisper …
“catch us before we disappear”.
Through the dust of despair drifting nowhere,
the last rays of the setting sun filtered,
swathed the vestiges of the broken dreams,
enveloped within the migrating mirage,
that morphed into the leaves flying away.
Across the melting shadow of the cloud adrift,
through the golden glow of sunset,
I trailed the course of the blowing wind
to catch the fleeting leaves
that took away all my dreams.
Beneath the defoliated magnolia tree,
at the fringe of my dried-up bare garden,
as I stood with my dwindling present,
I heard the rippling wind whisper to me…
“you’ll catch them in the twilight terrain”.
_______________
April 23. 2023
Word chosen : Whisper
Contest : Writing Challenge - "W" Word
Sponsored by : Constance La France
This precious planet we have damned
by plundering it day on day.
We still fell forests for more land.
In game of greed we lead the way.
We fudge figures and then pretend.
I shut my eyes and start to pray.
Air pollution we fail to mend
and plastic waste in ocean stray.
Both problems getting out of hand
and all wildlife we now betray.
To other species we’re no friend.
I shut my eyes and start to pray.
It’s time our thinking we amend.
and without any more delay.
Our selfish ways we still defend.
These issues upon my mind weigh.
Earth’s future now on man depend.
I shut my eyes and start to pray.
Children staring at presents under the tree
Eager eyes wide open and full of wondering,
They know Mama’s been on a shopping spree.
Packages tied up with ribbons, sometimes three
Sends their active imaginations wandering,
Children staring at presents under the tree.
No presents until Christmas, despite their plea,
They’ve even think about secretly plundering
They know Mama’s been on a shopping spree.
Anxiously, they study the packages on one knee
Around the tree they find themselves meandering
Children staring at presents under the tree.
What will Santa bring? They can hardly wait to see
Christmas Eve approaches, stomachs are churning,
They know Mama’s been on a shopping spree.
A large box behind the tree, could it be for me?
Too far back to investigate without blundering,
They know Mama’s been on a shopping spree
Children staring at presents under the tree.
Written November 30, 2022
Take corrective steps to control mind
As often erring is never good for life
A solution as a remedy you must find
By developing a will to solve strife
We must prove that we are not blind
If brain is husband, heart is its wife
By heavy losses, we may be shaken
Sky may curse us to badly weaken
High level measures must be taken
Definitely we can come out of a snag
For this we must wisely do pondering
With us the defect must not just drag
No use in with no sense blundering
What a tragedy to carry loser's tag
Peace, defeats will be plundering.
Oh Lord, the refinement and its fire
The evils spewed and hurled as a choir
Boastful of absurdity as if You aren't witness
Plundering righteousness of dignity till it is weakness
As we forgive seventy times seven
Overcoming offense to still gladly preach heaven
And that this they do is a thorn in our flesh
But your Grace is sufficiently ever fresh
Oh Lord, make that day of reckoning
Of all these voices you sent beckoning
Even in long-suffering and graceful extension
Just a testimony that makes a distinction
That it may be known that You live
And beyond silver and gold have we much to give
Make manifest the Power at work within us
And be honored that thou didst thus
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