social reclusion
self inflicted exclusion
all by delusion
conspiracy profusion
~ there is no jab collusion ~
By
David Kavanagh
Categories:
reclusion, allusion, health, humanity,
Form: Tanka
Looking back
curiously acquiescent
in 4th floor chaos
Looking through these
dresser drawers of
sleepy underclothing
Retrospective shirts
and tiresome socks,
these sheaths of self
more coincidental
than designed
Everything ajar,
windows, doors
my dresser drawers
Clues left coyly
in my path
by boorish poltergeists
Half absent,
I impassively apprise their
surreptitious ways,
their secret jokes
on my reclusion
Categories:
reclusion, absence, loneliness, lonely, me,
Form: Free verse
When trouble finds my place in time
I stick to rhythm meter rhyme
The planet wobbles out of kilter
Poetry is my lens reflection filter
As virus sheds its ugly eerie mask's persona
I can be stronger than corona
Isolation and reclusion are no pleasure
But ink and fountain pen retain their measure
Nothing is worse than speechless tongues
I breathe with so far uncontaminated lungs
And when the apocalypse is high and nigh
As the quill is coughing with a sigh
At least I've done my bit until the final day
I'll script depict fantasise ponder have my say
About what matters in the grander schemes
In essence love compassion dreams
Just like the covert bug has no frontier
I hold my friends and lover dear
Empathy also should not stick to a random borderline
Transcends gender race class and toughens social twine
A seasoned and rebellious maverick will not be muted
In fact narration and lock down are rather suited
8th April 2020
Categories:
reclusion, emotions, encouraging,
Form: Rhyme
To you my quondam friend!
I made myself a heretic through the sacrament
Of unearthed and burnt,
Through the enforcement of raucous,
And above all, the magnum crimen of irrational.
As the 5th Earl of imminence… now, I,
I summon the torn faces of rituals,
Born to abuse the necessity, depriving it of
Any valid right! Cleansed through the salvation
In a pious moment, so precise in time of living,
In time of consolation with solace, and valence
Towards unconditional giving and grieving.
I am sentenced (!), potentially, to become
Honourable in my pledge to silenced soul,
And as a friar of reclusion, I deem it probable,
Yet illusory, that the pristine image of self
Becomes a wish of rupture and the determiner
Of good will, in this humble domus hereticorum.
Provisions, inquisitions, admirations, fervent
Beliefs, and infant crevasses of desired, send across,
Send! My message of acceptance and nonchalance,
Bold and pregnant, with reasons of disinterest
Forever, and ever!
Categories:
reclusion, inspiration,
Form: Free verse
Oh My God
You can do it alone Sissy don’t be a ‘sour puss’
All that rolling a stone uphill is best done in utter
~ Reclusion ~
Oh Godot all that waiting and never to come
Almost there and short of a cookie nevertheless
~ Shortchanged ~
Professor Emeritus in your intellectual tower
Knowledge is power but without action remains
~ Vain ~
Hermit have you found Plato’s miraculous cave
Smack in the middle yet the golden mean in
~ Peripheral Longing ~
Buddha Almighty where is that solemn fig tree
If not inside you growing weeds searching for
~ Love ~
When granite stays put at the base of the task
Absurdity is taken for what meaning it offers
Teaching the truth reflects sharing as caring
Ariadne shows the path to colour outside the box
Dharma and Sanga envelop Ego and Self and
~ Then Lonely Pursuit ~
~ Yields Offering and ~
~ Beauty in Solitude ~
03rd May 2018
Categories:
reclusion, courage, destiny, friendship love,
Form: Free verse
The rain pelted around me and washed away my purity
Leaving me bared, exposed in my femininity
Now, instead of puzzling over my reclusion,
The whole world shall gape at my vulnerability!
Why, if only I could just die out of combustion
I would have saved myself from this ruination
Always had I been rapturously involved with faith
How am I to live when deprived from its elation!
But then, life forced itself into my breath
Pray, it said, love when true and pure is my strength
Meant it is, to be celebrated as a boon of mercy
Fight not, let the rain guide you into a most exalted rebirth!
3 July 2017
Categories:
reclusion, longing, love, rain,
Form: Rubaiyat
Power of Journeys
New horizons speak in hope and pull me to Pablo Neruda’s country
‘Twenty poems of love’ inspired by Santiago Robinson Crusoe Island
Serene landscapes volcanoes Andean mountains are outspokenly funky
I seek the space vibes vastness Chilean seduction loudly and silent
Few books opened my voice more than ‘The Gulag Archipelago’ scripted
by Alesandr Solzhenitsyn and thus my eyes have to explore the Siberian Plain
Despite all that ice a melting pot of souls minds and cultures encrypted
I need to welcome silence once more and Lake Baikal into my inner terrain
‘The Paradise of the Blind’ with heart blooded ink by Duong Thu Huong
wants exploration quiet reflection uncontaminated comprehension
Nature wrapped in philosophy the Mekong Delta is where I belong
Peace solitude reclusion at times require my full travelling attention
On this voyage Pinochet Stalin and Ho Chi Min can stay in their grave
Blending and mixing with beauty wise words Mother Earth is what I crave
Categories:
reclusion, love, travel,
Form: Rhyme
When It Is Winter
Whence from shine the seasons to whom and to where
High on snow peaked mountains sits the Buddha under a fir tree
Exalted warm in the glow of change and stillness he mediates
Never ending contradictions assembles frost transcends right there
In the heat of the desert Northern lights shed their guidance
To similar truth’s complementation seek meaningful sense
In abandon vast perception’s years cycle from our point of views
Swift within and without riches and scrap heaps of dissimilar hues
When periods swell and spell interchange across planets and orbit
In constant revolution vison blind folded deceptions and ruses
No one come high tides water or drought can simply absorb it
The winter is summer as spring turns to autumn and perspective
Emerges in harmony when my lights in the South levitate from
Reclusion where wise humans freeze sweat which is highly subjective
Categories:
reclusion, seasons,
Form: Acrostic
Enigmatic Lane
This enigmatic lane-
I’ve walked long.
And now I see
Only barren lands,
A mere setting sun,
And a vague horizon.
I turn to look back
Along this enigmatic lane.
And then I see
Those umpteen vicissitudes,
Those sudden meanders,
Those familiar turns,
Those abrupt detours.
Down this enigmatic lane,
There have been
Many a rich meadows,
Many a bleak wastelands,
Millions of pompous marches,
Millions of disconcerting dirges,
Several comforts of love,
Several cruelties of reclusion.
Along this enigmatic lane
I may no longer tread, for-
As I now halt, I ponder-
Perpetuation has always been
The ruse of fleeting phases,
And what worth has it been
To walk this enigmatic lane.
Categories:
reclusion, adventure, autumn, childhood, death,
Form: Free verse
"...Dominus orationem meam suscepit."
Burning his little jelly bottom raw,
He blisters in his liquid greenish poop.
He has no means to summon us at all
To drain the acid swamp of split pea soup.
Except to scream, a peevish infant yawp,
And so he screams, until we take his goop.
We modestly subserve our son's ejecta.
Clean, dry and warm: his everyday trifecta.
He's not alone. I've had my days of burning.
Blistered and raw, to salve my hurt I prayed
for balm from God, ultimately learning
His summit lay on far too steep a grade.
Footless in His scree, inflamed with yearning,
My wounds combusted into wrath. I brayed
My blasphemies, then heard the Logoi fall.
I had no means to summon Him at all.
Which births a trailing thought about the sainted:
Their whispered prayers, their worshipful reclusion,
Which all the hagiographers have painted.
Don't buy it. Souls corroded with confusion,
Their love of God with hatred wholly tainted,
And Doubt the only friend to their seclusion,
With blasphemies they burnt the fetid air.
Profanation is the purest form of prayer.
Categories:
reclusion, religion,
Form: Ottava rima
Through report the world
came to you, corresponding
through reclusion on
terms your own.
Your first-rate grasp of
third-hand knowledge,
coupled with a dash of
hesitancy, and you were THE
"it" girl of the next era.
Existence-like
pure pre-existence.
Recognizing your own
genius , even when no
one could see your face --
Your mirror, yours alone.
You cocooned your body
( a white shroud )
to preserve, what?
A voice. Some idea(l).
Wrapped in light, a utopia
constructed of hedges,
afraid to step beyond your
own garden, but more fearful
still not to write your way
Beyond.
Categories:
reclusion, history,
Form: Free verse