Short Athwart Poems

Gold
ruptures
shining pearl,
splitting ashen
powdered nebula
languidly changing form.
Infused fuchsia wisps unfold
drowsily thread by thread trailing
athwart the resplendent crimson orb
seductively slipping into twilight....

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        Thus sat I
 athwart her boarding
 as the train’s whistle 
         bellowed

         I panting
stroking mine beard in
       anticipation
   mine pen and slip
           excited 
     to cast each her
        chary glints
             when
            CRACK
     back mine head
       mine consort
      her ring baring
           jealous...

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Nights turning into morning
sun goes down, we come alive
two wounded birds, awaits the dawning
the days of our life

each night, afloat in my sphere 
you shoot athwart my dark sky
but life isn’t fair
the reason I cannot fly

some nights you’d appear as the blood-moon
to keep a lonesome me cheerful
and perky like the crescent-moon
then I gawp and feel blissful....

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Such a immense pain I feel
 when i realize that I am not the sun
 that illuminates your life ...
   Distress even greater when perceive
 that your moon has settled
    on the darker side
 that I don't notice ..
 And that we were the same as
    disconnected outcasts
 floating meaninglessly,
    wandering aimlessly,
 lost from that love
     athwart the spaces ...!...

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I tread through my story
Knitting the yellow sheet

I rejoice the dunes heat,
Merely chew beneath my feet

I silhouette the foliage
Aid the weaker

I am transporting drops
Athwart the boiling weather

I am the hero amidst the throng
I shall not heed,

Heed over a car or bike
I shall stay on the street

I am not modern
Nor am I Just Plain

I am the Arabian Saga
I am what’s present in the desert grain...

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Deada in ashes fallin to lamar cold
Unsing it vanity in time concealed
Like leaveslight winglesssta
Listlessly lain where unburried we wither away

Lull inkfro fettered eternity
I call dull life what it is
Greycoated only dream
Hanging athwart the ending stream until sunset
Totell moreonce the story old

End under streetlamps invisible names in shame
Narrating oursins
Diligently like blackbirds cawing
Sweet nothingican understandin grant....

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Act One scene one, the curtain drawn,
before the players cross the stage~
A silent script and program gone,
this mute perception to engage~

Fallible form and fancied function,
athwart the stage they come and go~
Delightful dance of grand conjunction,
perfect parts within the show~

Audience to this human plight
and resting in the arms of trust~
See the play with inner sight, 
all temporal forms return to dust~

Satprem~

Copyright © 2015...

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