Poignant
Poignant is not a word
but theater every day.
It's the sweetest act most hidden
from the one who wrote the play.
Packaged in small to medium
it often goes unseen; never
tedium to the driven
who would rather climb than dream.
In speeches, books and interviews
of noted women and men,
Poignant never comes to mind
until they reach the end.
I breathe you in
Deep within my soul,
I breathe you in
Until I loose control,
I breathe you in
You make me whole.
Familiar things force me to remember-
Memories so far,
Memories that flicker,
Blurs and fragments of moments I savour.
I walk the same path, but everything’s different
No matter what’s done, those times-
Forever bedridden.
I wished to forget them, knowing once is too many.
Even if I were to relive them-
Memory would continue to get me,
Memories that now instill fear,
Those which keep me here-
Remembrance, the thing I call-
Homesickness.
The joy which once filled me then,
Creates a new fear of times that end.
Those moments in which we shared,
That now, I realize, will forever be-
“There”
(With apologies to Rabindranath Tagore)
Where fear stalks the mind and the head hangs in shame;
Where knowledge is twisted,
Where the country has been broken up into fragments by
narrow walls of caste and creed;
Where words are mouthed for short–term gains;
Where insatiable lust stretches its arms towards seats of
power;
Where the clear stream of reason has dried up in the scorch-
ing heat of the forest of communal flare–ups;
Where the mind is led backward by Thine enemy into ever–
narrowing thought and action -
From this nightmare of licence, my Father, let my country awake.
I have seen that house a hundred times,
The one upon which the old vine climbs.
So poignant and so melancholy,
That place had once been the omphali.
Now it was abandoned, dark, and drear
And seeing it made me shed a tear.
I always wondered what sort of joy,
And happiness the house did enjoy.
Was there pain and hurt and deep sorrow?
Why did it not get a tomorrow?
Maybe it just needs another chance
To give it ability to dance.
We were the center of our fam’lies’
And were living out our fantasies.
What happened to us I do not know.
It has been years since I watched you go.
Perhaps we just need another chance
To give us ability to dance.
emerald waves of memories from past
crashing ~ luscious ~ turbulent
bare my soul in writing
March 26, 2022
Form K - KIMO Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Syllables (10 -7- 6) checked by HMS.com
SECOND PLACE
Somehow I'm holding
My breath, counting times
In an aquarium
Like the golden fish,
The knife has sucking blood
Under the bottom of the hand
Life cries.
The voice of the flying bird
Dissolved in the evening sky,
A naked tree
On the falling leafs
My heart sinks.
a baseball hides in shadows on the landing
glove and bat nowhere to be seen
a football perches oddly on the top step
helmet and shoes sprawled across the handrail
cries of 'nice cut,' 'home run' and 'tough out'
have yielded to 'hit 'em harder' and 'touchdown!'
soon to migrate indoors to hockey arenas
basketball courts, though the passion's the same...
long-ago recollections of hotly contested games
fade inevitably within musty corridors of time
and the stiffening of sinews in the legs and back
which render all the more poignant such nostalgia attacks...
Grow in silence,
That I call a reliance;
In that no one will choke
And break my heart like a joke .
It picks me up from the mess;
Sh! Hear the nothingness.
An escape from the raucous world,
And the stories which are themselves curled.
Imagination thrives in it;
Where the soul feels a certain grit.
It gives a meaning to the esse,
Sh! Hear the nothingness.
Silence has a lot to say
And shows an unerring way.
It holds answers,
That are as right as lancers.
It makes the erroneous situation redress;
Sh! Hear the nothingness.
It makes a person ablaze,
For 'tis more poignant than a phrase.
Silence is often misconceived as an uncanny situation;
In truth it's a peaceful combination.
It offers calmness and makes the hassle less.
Sh! Hear the nothingness.
Some thinks that 'tis traumatic,
While some thinks that it's erratic;
But though 'tis full of hope and not a runnel,
Verily it's like a light at the end of the tunnel.
It's like an ocean that's serene and pulls me from distress;
Sh! Hear the nothingness.
-Namish
SILHOUETTE (5/23) — POIGNANT
Pandemic atmosphere
New normal here;
Business as unusual
~~~~~
Poise feeds
What I need
As soul seeds
Fine bold quest
With pure zest
Love tints
Deep fond hints
As peace mints
What truth starts
In kind heart
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
08 January 2021
Singapore
Poignant pause pairs with enigmatic space
Wherein love throbs as omnipresent grace
Centre everywhere, circumference where?
Ego rested awareness, self-aware
Agendaless joy, exiting rat race
Love alone is real, so cut to the chase
Desires and fears, our purity deface
Silence and stillness, inducing prayer
Poignant pause pairs
Merging by melting, at an easy pace
Love and light, radiating from our face
Blissful vaporised self, alone may dare
To plunge into the void, while others stare
When no dark spots remain, left to erase
Poignant pause pairs
25-December-2020
Pointedly poignant points portend pointillism.
Pontiffs pontificate pointless pointers ponderously.
Pompous poems populate Pompei pottery potently.
Porous *********** portrays Portuguese porta potties.
Poppies pop Popeye’s popular popcorn.
Populist populism pots ponies properly.
Blithering blather blots bloody bleeping blips.
Bloomberg blogs bleach bleating bloated blinks.
Bluebloods bloom black blackberry bloopers.
Bluetooth blizzards blame blurry blackboards.
Blithe blighted bladders blatantly block blades.
Blazing blasts bleed blooming blenders.
Fumbling fumes funerals fast.
Feuding fluid furniture flutters flaps.
Fighting flatulent flamingos flounder.
Floating flotillas flee flying flops.
Families foment future futile forms.
Freaky frozen French fries frighten frogs.
Neither with brutality nor ferocity
But with calm resolute tranquility
Awareness & attention in tandem
Move in the linear time continuum
Whilst mind-body is the trumpeter
Joyful loving heart is the puppeteer
This being what is meant
Rise equalling the descent
Centre everywhere
Circumference nowhere
Within the void of every pulse
Re-cognition is instantaneous
29-July-2020
A chorus of boxes hums tonelessly on high rafters
where unwieldy boxed and stocked memory realms
squirm under drowsy dust just beyond my sight’s reach.
On my journey, family, romantic loves, places
and friends have dipped as memory twisted
mist, spun in bleary pieced feeling conditions
that time tossed dark-shelved from my vision.
But around does come moments of poignant grabs
that hoist me thru the dust to see a memory touch
and as I sit or lie with it, it seeps my depths inside of it.
Feel how joy heals
With touch that thrills
Mind words that peak
As feel now speaks
Heart tells the mind
To be most kind
Mind learns to know
As heart seeds glow
Bright spark lights dark
To sense the mark
Be in being
Good grace loving
Seek thus the proof
As love funds proof
Dare to live bold
Through hot and cold
End where you start
With a big heart
Leon Enriquez
10 September 2019
Singapore
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