The tiny giant
was independently reliant.
He was brutely handsome, such a pity
because she was awfully pretty.
The old news came in a deafening whisper.
She read it slowly and brisker.
He was a knight by day.
She left a bitter sweet note with joyful dismay.
Hand written on a typewriter.
Her heart was heavy and so much lighter.
He was riding at a slow speed
when he had a deliberate accident on his steed.
She let out a silent scream
when she saw the invisible scene.
It was on TV.
A live recording for all to see.
He swapped his horse for an ox
from the school of hard knocks.
The beast was dumb and much dafter.
Her knight died and they all lived happily ever after.
This is a true story all fiction to be sure on.
Now she has his OXY-MORON.
I see only dread
in the break of day
if I lie with my thoughts
they'll devour me
all concepts lead
to forked tongues
I trust nothing
as I know of the arrows
shooting left and right
until this dread is swallowed
starts to occupy within, by my own hand
and I cough it up
- examine its contents
mentally swing
from limb to limb
over reliant
on the gait cycle
mistaking stagger
for momentum
I need only step back
join the dots
scan the reference points
mindful
not
to
loop
infinity
predictions may be on the nose
observations kept intense
until curated
should I care to unravel them
I regress
regret
feel sorrow -
that every star-filled sky
becomes a named constellation
Inspired by Morning Star (L'étoile matinale) - Miro
Affable unflappable an incomparable parable & fable
Telegraph path defending ending era sending a cable
As Indian power does deflower our Test tower of Babel
Reliant on our defiant thoroughbred in the Kiwi stable
Does what says on the label as Kane so keen and able
Hushed kudos so humble yet giant sat at the top table
Hardy a great first rate trait played ball late almost tardy
Held aloft by hands so soft weaving his third man spree
Inner fire to the wire winner desire is Kane down to a tee
Outwitting Kohli and sitting pretty on top of the WTC tree
Fitting in his twilight dimming the limelight is not about me
Travesty not to marvel at artistry & majesty of his tapestry
Heavenly ability with angelic humility part of a holy trinity
Stoic & heroic Martin's successor a professor still ego free
With Crowe & Hadlee bestow Black cap history our nobility
Affinity for infinity for all three so totally Kiwi simply divinity
I have a whimsical patience.
I just have to untangle the slithering awkwardness.
Because I have trusty sludge in my pocket.
I shift through different time zones.
Hopeful.
Reliant as the splotches hissing on my arms.
Untangled.
Like eating old socks, they promised.
They taste as good as taffy.
But that’s just my whimsical patience.
Rustic.
Just like eating the weirdest stuff.
And no after dinner mint ever.
Her hands on hips— arms as handles, steadying the frame,
anchoring her impatience, calmly controlling the game.
Her stance, composed, yet defiant, as disappointment shows,
in the tilt of chin, a scolding glare, a brace to enclose.
She lets the tempest flare and roar, then quells the rage,
with her body commanding and coaxing - to persuade and assuage.
Her love keeps no ledger of what's been done right and wrong.
Her will, steadfast, long-lived, enduring, reliant and strong.
An eyebrow raised, a glance, a glare, can make bravado bend.
Her posture speaks before her tongue, calling disquiet to end.
The thuggery & skulduggery we must disable
The fable that we are all from another stable
Reliant on corporate giant bland brand label
We should be able to sit at the same table
Could grow our food in our neighbourhood
No creeds just deeds sow seeds that feeds
Heeds our needs not greeds edible weeds
Chairs of reeds in a row stood around wood
Two hands & one mouth the triangle of life
Spans across lands fans of no fork or knife
North to south eat together beat the strife
Allayed & swayed by Proustian rushes rife
Severe all ties with pain lies of Cain and Abel
Come together guys round table whenever
Wherever forever there is nowt comparable
Parable of arable reigns never been a fable
Dare to dream Ashes nightmares it seems reawoken
Token words spoken after scares & flares teams broken
Dafter peacocking then rocking no blocking just shocking
Mocking laughter of the ghost of Christmas future knocking
Host boast from coast to coast toast as England roast
Boiling..recoiling..toiling & broiling this is our last post
Our iridescent flaming proper copper haired laird
Incandescent flairs no taming his despairs we all shared
Luminescent cares blaming Bazball heirs ill prepared scared
Stoic brawler our defiant mauler on a leaking reeking trawler
Too reliant on our brilliant defiant resilient glowering giant
Big Ben set up camp crippled by his men again & ripples of cramp
Overpowering pain courses through every vein towering skipper & champ
Heart on his sleeve…makes us believe in a reprieve heroic Firestarter
Immensity of intensity.. O Captain my Captain..our smarter martyr
I’m curves with a backbone, perfume with a bite
I’m soft when I want but I’m fire on sight
Wisdom hit different when you earned every scar
and still I will always reach for the stars
I’m a woman in full now, petals and flame
I learned my own worth before learning your name
I don’t need rescuing, lifts, or a crown
I rise on my own when the world knocks me down
See, the woman who’s walked through her shadows alone
But I’m open to love if it matches my tone
I’m tender by choice now, not by default
I can melt in your hands but stand firm in my faults
I’m seasoned not salty, flavored just right
Wisdom in my stride, got my own damn light
I stopped askin’ for space in somebody’s life
I built my own peace… cut clean like a knife
I’m grown… and it feels divine to admit
that I finally love the woman I’ve grown into bit by bit
Self-reliant, aligned, with my boundaries tight
a mature woman shining in her own fight
When we lived beneath
The thatched-roof houses,
Curry cooked in earthen pots,
Flames burning from firewood gathered
From hills and thickets.
When bullock carts creaked
Under paddy loads,
Harvests reaped from fertile fields,
Bicycles ridden on dusty roads.
When the sound
Of hand-pounding paddy
Was heard from homes every day,
Women weaving at fly-shuttle looms
Sometimes till late at night
Then, in our land,
We helped one another-
Lives were simple and self-reliant.
Today, though we dwell
In grand concrete homes
And ride in cars of luxury,
We survive on grants from the Centre.
The food we grow falls far below our needs,
While blockades on the National Highways
Bring us untold pain .
Meanwhile, the gap between the rich and the poor
Continues to widen.
Today, the spirit we once knew fading -
The spirit of independance, equality, simple joys
Mutual help and cooperation.
(A revised verson of the poem When Life Was Simple posted earlier
The poem published in the poetry anthology DIVERSE VOICES :POETRYON HUMAN RIGHTS AND PURSUIT OF PEACE.)
my lilac tree did not know she was a bush
within ten years she flourished with a swoosh
she outgrew every tree except the oak giant
lilac tree is a hundred foot tall, shade very reliant.
Winds gust with forceful change
Our stubborn shields prove useless
The bell tolls a warning within range
We stall behind worn out excuses
Head high or chin down…undecided
We ride against the grain defiant
Our whims like arrows misguided
On silence we’ve become too reliant
Why does it feel so immense
This shift we knew was coming
Behind a mask of false pretense
We dance to a beat so numbing
When we lived beneath thatch-roofed houses,
Curry simmered in pots,
Flames flickered from firewood gathered
From hills and thickets.
When bullock carts creaked
Under paddy loads,
Harvests reaped from fertile fields,
Bicycles spun on dusty roads.
When sounds of hand-pounding paddy
Echoed from homes everyday,
Women weaving at fly- shuttle looms
Sometimes till late night.
And when caws of the crows
And chirpings of tea cricket at dusk heard.
Then we helped one another -
Life was simple,self reliant,and beautiful.
( Third in the Poetry Contest entitled "Write Sixteen Beautiful Lines" sponsored by Constant La France )
Uncooperative
self reliant
unhelpful or
unwilling to asit
often done to
achieve benevolent
goalies
prioritizing the
well being of others over
the well being of ones self.
_________________________________
A great dancer both were
they made the jealous fool admitt.
Both are great dancers
but I wish him to
quit their alliance
and be part of mine
anything else is seen as
foolish and unproductive.
Due to the rigors of time
and finding love with another
he came to his senses
and reached out to those
who wished him apart of
there dance team
they met, they agreed, they
rehearsed, they developed a routine
something performers
would envy and what audiences
would demand.
They met at the right time
in there life before
they were to mean
from the rigors of experience
to see a future that
would included one another
There next obstacle was
finding the right sound
to be the backdrop
for the Movement of Collaborative
People
Paul Frederick Simon
who is nicknamed rhymin’
for a while on Art Garfunkel was reliant
and gave us The Sounds of Silence
God, I come to you in quiet meditation seeking divine growth ~~
May I step with centered senses
As I climb my negative fences:
All my vision seeing far and near,
Bright in light, truthfully clear;
Both my feet saying no to retreat,
Standing faith strong my life long;
Please so each ear with knowledge hear –
Be calm, be silent, be ever reliant;
Powerful words emitted be manifest committed
To realizing the divine in this life of mine;
Hands do be love, a touch made of
Joy as directed from God above;
And, every thought weeded as a garden,
Pure with intent, never requiring pardon.
Thank you, Father, Mother, God
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