¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ my quest of happiness seem vain?
Disdain.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
Jealousies.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
Absence.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ for my grief
Where shall I turn to seek relief,
When hope on every side lies slain
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ the prime cause of all my woe ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
Love.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
If that be so, I but await
The stroke of a resistless fate,
¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
What must I do to find a remedy?
Die.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
Change.
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
Madness.
If that be so, it is but folly
To seek a cure for melancholy:
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
(Blackout of Don Quixote by Miguel Cervantes)
A woman's tears, resistless, run
In fits and flood tides
Traced back from its source this stream reflects.
O wary am I, in knowledge of
By which now abides!
The capacity to sorrow
Those darks o'er into
Of hearts' unresponsiveness, rock-hard -
O and O! Endless for pounding falls -
Like these. Too near to!
Chill the north-east air
On the bravest cheek
Though the March sun sifts
Through the clouding sheet
As if winter fights
The advancing spring,
While the daffodils dance
In the darting breeze!
So sure the measured steps of time
Steal slow the strength of men,
And years at last
Must yield their power
To younger blood,
To generations yet to be,
Till they in turn grow old
On time's resistless wheel
Of life and death
And all would seem
A sequence meaningless
Of gain and loss,
Of hope, despair,
Of life, of death.
Yet by that dancing daffodil
God speaks a lesson pure,
Apparent death can spring again
And even winter's chill
Prepare the heart to find new life
In Christ.
In the morning's tender light, a whisper soft,
A wake-up call, as dawn's embrace aloft.
A kettle hums, a ritual, time to unwind,
Strong ginger tea, with milk entwined.
The aroma, a symphony of morning grace,
Resistless allure, filling up the space.
Awakening senses, a dance on the tongue,
Morning tea, where new stories are begun.
As shadows lengthen, and the day unwinds,
Evening tea, a family union binds.
Snacks and biscuits laid out, a table adorned,
In the twilight, love and laughter are formed.
With parents, spouses, siblings dear,
Tea time brings them near, drawing them near.
Stories unfold, like petals unfurling,
Bonding forever, in the tea time swirling.
Resistless, sweet chirping of the first bird at my window
That resembles the quenchless, quest-filled divine vocation.
The dew and the sun that sweeps it are in a friendly show.
Truths, in the forms of blooms and blossoms, are in elation.
I see peace and potency in each pebble before me.
Construction of my castle of contentment finds completion.
Each creature I encounter is, indeed, wisdom's vast sea.
Each of their words and deeds is worthy of veneration.
I hold myself as a core component of the cosmos.
So too each little being I esteem and celebrate.
An ounce of happiness each moment I have for my dose
With blossoms of gratitude, soul's altars, I decorate
With the timeless tales, the moon and the stars, at night, share
To 'Peaceful Sleep' or 'Rest in Peace' I mentally prepare
Forgive the beastliness
As born with, earth-sired;
Charges, unchallenged, thereaft
Conditioned, earth-mired.
Woman, soft eyed, soft voiced
Know this, pitieously
What each such, a man at heart
Seeks out, needily.
Against these advances
Appeals to soothe, tame
Resistless, have worship-dropped
Gods of warring fame!
The wondering question of life it seems,
or the missing link of forgotten dreams.
Highlights of careless joys as leap,
when the soul feels the strain in deep.
The resistless hour always on the move,
for waking hearts and the surge after love.
Existence by passion that is longing for things,
extorting to be only sufferings.
Tempered energies to overcome all fears,
conflict and disturbed dreams for years.
When fierce desire become worn with strive,
knowing somehow that is not my life.
Camouflaged images on all level of dreams,
defense mechanisms to censor of what seems.
The ego does not want to recognize,
multiple stories in one self to rationalize.
The dreamer and seer by selflessness observed,
natural complete feelings preserved.
Fingerprints of dreams close to heart,
prophecies towards providence depart.
Words silent turn at the melodic tunes
Oozing from the lush lilts of your eyes;
Telling of stung lover’s anthems warm,
Of the rapt poet whose scribbling dies.
Windows into realms old lyricists laud,
Whereon Love and Truth twain thrive;
Each by doubtful duplicities unscarred,
Unsullied by decays of greediest drive.
See how the language of your look,
As some evanescent lover’s secret,
Amid rosy violets resistless shines;
Inviting once-bitten soul truthful yet?
Methinks your mien undeceiving sews
Back to peace yester-heartbreak's all;
Reshaping pulses' rhythms wounded...
Still-white breasts darkened by brawl.
Nectared graces overwhelming must
Underline your pulse-halting charms;
Utopian opal spelt by honeyed terms,
Resistless pearl cased in mortal dust.
Fair-miened nymphs kings did melt;
But such sly vixens, like old Phoenix
Acing artful Death's ambrosial tricks,
Would find your rig a conundrum yet.
Dead fancy's fairy in gowns of wool,
Would vote this trim flawless figure
Finer than fiction's gildings meager;
Nature’s art unsullied by apish tool.
Nor would pageant-lauded beauties,
Though posh their foppish styles be;
With roses laureled in limitless glee,
Dim this time's own queen of cuties.
Where lurks this sure paragon high,
Beauty-capped acme of poets' tales;
Yet glamorous and unbeaten in vales
Of breath and death where jewels lie?
The Willow Tree
stands by the water,
not the tallest,
never stronger -
Than mighty pines
and oaks that grow
taller and live
longer
Yet flexible her
branches, her
swaying limbs as the
wind blows
-That stormy
destroying wind
which picks up
larger trees and
downward throws-
Is cut into a
thousand pieces by
the whipping
branches and reduced
to a whispered hiss
By the little leaves
resistless motion.
The storm is stilled
by this.
Your eyes are gentle as the sun
Who sweeps her lids at daybreak come
Upon terrain, her earthly son
And cradles him from shadowed numb.
Your hands are tender as the moon
Who titillates beyond night’s doom
For velvet is his dust cocoon
That raptures all with sweet consume.
Your smiles are ticklish as a star
Whose feathers brush celestial tar
She yields resistless mirth afar
So fire and bleak discover par.
Your kiss is stirring as the sea
When tempest wails and waves banshee
Yet when she ends her churning spree
Her voice is soaked with calming glee.
Your soul is whole as universe
Who seeks his beauty to disperse
And spatters truth without rehearse
His loving vestige sparkling thyrse.
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