My heart holds all of my firsts.
The first breath of life,
the first cry cracking out of my lungs.
It holds the rupture of a dam my parents tripwired,
so the flood has always won.
The guttural scream of you and sixteen,
a ruthless rise in your grip for the ripest fruit.
I was only trying to hold on.
To hold on to innocence like the sun prying
at time on the horizon just to catch a
glimpse of the moon.
My heart holds all of my firsts,
the shushed cries and soiled flesh
I did not pray or.
God crying in December’s fog
as you abandon me in winter’s thaw.
You are forgetful,
but my heart remembers all.
The Autumn colours of gold,
Vibrant colours on display,
Red, green and gold leaves so bold.
Leaves falling to the ground,
Dancing and softly swaying,
A crisp, crunching sound.
A blanket of beauty,
As the days turn cold,
Changing of the seasons,
As the Autumn colours unfold!
MAGICAL!!
A tisket ,a tasket
Kirk's cased in his casket
This earth no more walking
All from his straight talking
Drove Tyler Robinson
To fire one shot from his gun
That produced his silence
Leading to more violence
Never a solution
Rather revolution.
A wife of husband bereft
Two kids fatherless left
The Second Amendment
Was never heaven sent
With the grim widowmaker
No more than a lifetaker.
Is that to be the future
Bullets us to butcher?
For the first time
in two months...
I closed the door,
summer is fading
into the crispness of fall.
Flower blossoms are poor,
yet production is rich,
creating seed
for spring's progeneration.
Leaves begin trading
their summer attire
for the season's new color,
as I clean out the hearth
for a cozy night's fire.
Springing here,
Blooms dance, sunshine wafts,
Feel our smiles.
back door breeze.
relief from sophistry.
sounds of ink
dipping into darkness.
I see moonbows,
or I’d like to; believe
in wings of brightness,
breath of sweet season.
quicksand takes my breath.
soothing tunes of velvet
like romantic violins
reel me in; I need briskness -
a cold blast. I need leaves
to relieve my melancholia.
don’t refuse me the hues
of Autumn, a drift of falling.
In the springtime of my life,
I hear the birds, singing delight
Crooning the hope through my worst strife,
Silencing shadows with sweetest insight
In the summertime of my life,
I hear the whisper of leaves, alive
Telling a story of when I’m filled with strife
Pouring out hope, assured I’ll survive
In the autumn of my life,
I hear the music of stars at twilight,
Revealing the music of hope despite strife
Rising in victory, the music He’ll write
In the winter of my life,
I hear the praise of each sunrise
Coloring my world beautiful despite the strife
When death comes, there’ll be no surprise
In the days that leave me unsure,
I hear the beautiful of a God who is true
And I know, all this fear and doubt I’ll endure,
Knowing that my heart, He will surely renew!
Sweet-scented breeze when wafts around,
A thrilled Koyal breaks into song,
On tree branches fresh sprouts abound,
On her face, love-making gone long,
Pearly sweat beads do when alight,
To whom would a scene not delight?
_______________________________
Translation (sestet*) | 33.08.2025 | spring, night, delight, nightingale, nostalgia
*Wonder, if it can be called a Sestetto Rima-- iambic meter with a rhyme scheme of ABABCC.
Note: Here is a verse (in Harini meter) from Bhartrihari’s Shringaara Shatakam (hundred verses on love and romance). The poet paints here a picture of a spring season in full spell: when fragrance wafts around, tender sprouts surround, a Koyal sings, sweat beads alight from her face from prolonged coitus, who’d not get delighted? Here is the transliteration of the Sanskrit verse:
Parimala amrtah vatah shakha nava-ankura-kotayo,
Madhura-viruta-utkantha vachah priyah pika pakshinam |
Virala surata sveda-udgara vadhu-vadana-indavah,
Prasarati madhau ratryam jatah na kasya guna-udayah || 37 ||
The swallow has gone,
Flown away, so has its mellow song
And so forth we go,
into bluer skies—indigo
Tempts drift further till tepid
Southern shades should not bid
Amid its alibi is incidence,
sun shrinks in appearance
Grayest shadows deepen
The first cool breezeway creeps in
Much warmth shall be ebbing,
heralding winter's woolen webbing
I count my blessings
of summer’s endings:
Abundance of sunshine so bright
Zephyrs on a tender August night
Book clubbing with best of friends,
Labor Day weekend marks summer’s end
As Summer ends Fall shall begin,
and what joyful gifts a winding wind
against glistening skin
Autumns kiss of this kind,
an earthly bliss entwined
And when the swallow returns,
no longer summer yearns
no longer summer yearns
The gates are thrown open!
Wipe that sneer off your face
Surrender to the thundering God
Or I His prophet will so help me do it for you
You just didn’t want to see what you’ve always known
You are welcome here whatever your sins and wicked ways
If you will but open your eyes and See
Pitch a tent with us on this sacred land and
Live as you were wrought from stone and flame
Raise your arms to the heavens and stand afore the hurricane
August 27, 2025
Season
THE hourglass never stops until the end
The past is gone
Life is to short to wonder what might have been
Keep moving forward
There is more to learn
Forward motion is caught by the ref,
obviously not following the maestro.
On the line of scrimmage ready to go,
too quick with that jump from their spot.
Barrels of ambition elbows will rub,
a return for a touchdown fill my quota!
Lighting up a Jumbotron with control,
like a boss threw a perfect spiral ball.
Sitting on my hands in the nosebleeds
entranced by every move they make.
All I want is a touchdown extravaganza,
so don’t get sloppy. No interceptions.
On the road or with an at home scenario?
Never doubt the power of the 12th man.
The gentle sunlight
On a winter afternoon
Shining on my face
Informs me how soon
Fragrant flowers will replace
The last soft snowflakes.
The sun's ventures to scorch the blossoms fail.
Goddesses Maia and Lakshmi sail.
Pre-monsoon drizzles cool the environs.
Optimism spreads wings, hushing storm's sirens.
Human forms are moulded to merriment
With the leaven of truth, good deeds ferment.
Clear conscience cascades from the divine source.
As a gentle breeze, love becomes life force.
For the tillers of land, it's a fair season.
In creating this, God has his reason.
As graces reach the zenith of goodness
May the Divine lead all towards fullness!
Can you feel something is about to change,
is it in the air everywhere you turn?
Much cooler mornings and nights are coming,
less sunshine each day for us to enjoy.
Days getting shorter with less time to play,
nights are getting longer with more darkness.
Trees are turning into pretty colors,
colorful leaves will soon be falling down.
Squirrels working very hard hiding nuts,
wanting their pantry full for the winter.
Changes are needed for the new season,
autumn is near to see and to enjoy.
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