Short Pared Poems

empty void blossoms
pared from societal core
suicidal thoughts...

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inappropriate
words escape my lips....
rutabaga pared  ...

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i pared the spirit from her
buried it in a drift of snow
curious, i returned in spring
to see a patch of flowers glowing...

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Minimalistic Ezra Pound
also wrote poetry most profound
but in his 'Station Metro' verse
he pared&pared to make it terse...

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There's worse things
than to live life
a pared down poet
stripped of hubris
at peace with myself
and the demons at bay....

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A peerless purveyor
pared pears on a pier.
Pierre, his au pair,
peered on, it appears.
Not payers, both players
prayed pious petitions;
For the nonce, no pence brought,
naught came to fruition.
...

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¿Qué nos deja esta lucha con el fuego? Hay un ojo colgado en la pared, un reloj que promete cumplir con su función en todas las plazas del mundo, un gobierno de la locura, ¡y hasta un alfabeto! Y el terror que sonríe como una muchacha que se mira al espejo para pintarse los labios, así es de coqueto el terror......

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What strength does Truth have in its grasp?
It remains, and yet, so easy
Is it manipulated by others.

Perhaps with Truth should Doubt be pared;
Understanding Truth is there now, 
We must be never sure that we're correct.

Pursuing Truth will bring us close,
But the Doubt will keep us away
From falling, hard of heart, to Death....

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mainstream 
                detours,
meeting,formalising
in
   pared
             down
                       measures:
erudite
peculiar
often despised
yet full 
             of meat!
elevated 
              by genius,
creative
reactive,
              textual
              metaphors
of
     poetic
               novelty...

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Thy fingers like petals,
So supple scenic;
Even a lucky diamond ring,
Feels itself adorned;
Radiates in festal,
Fortune glitters;
The stone of mount,
Carved to lustrous shape;
Pared stage by stage, 
Until deserves embracing,
Finger of thine;
So beautiful thou are,
Thine fingers may or 
may not feel; 
Yet the diamond feels,
Warm touch and glows;

© Sadashivan Nair...

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Little black books- blooming everywhere.
from shining sea islands, to Belair mansions
to white house lattice and cathedral bastions 

Little black books-Bloom-blooming-everywhere.
A few pawns are pared/ 
but the bishops and kings are always spared.

Little black books... blooming- blooming everywhere.
Little black books with coal dusted secrets
Magically disappear.
 
...

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They were dynamic, their harmony was fine!
They had pared down to four, from the original nine.
The five who could not sing had pneumonia that day.
We applauded these Corgis in every which way.

They sang Joy to the World and Jingle Bells too.
Adding a bit of jazz, and then Christmas Wee Woo.
They were amazing, and we could not stop clapping.
At the end these Corgis did a bit of back slapping....

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There is a vine, it is called the vine of life and death.
It is an ancient vine, planted and tended long ago.
The regular trimming leaves a shape like little crosses.
As the ethereal spirit permeates along the living vine.
Though the sign says, "nowhere", the journey produces.
That which withers and dies are subsequently pared away.
For then the fruit is fertile and the wine made is sublime.
And then the process is resurrected over and over again.

3/11/21...

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Pablo’s Plight

Blinding color, third eye closed
Squared off chin and angled nose
Arms in the back, feet from head
An odd sight it must be said
Eyes are pared but rarely paired
Ears an afterthought uncared
Daring use of brush and paint
Never quite described as quaint
One boob here and two boobs there
Disjointed limbs evry’ where
Jumbled mess by child’s hand
Or mastered work, each stroke planned?
It all comes down to point of view
What you see is up to you


8th May, 2017...

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There stands a tree whose climb I've shared,
Thereby, stacking hours, we'd fill our day.
Where boyhood dreams oft were pared,
While observing others passing our way.

This tree is huge, and through time's flow,
Climbers have been more than its share.
Beyond downward branches we would not go,
Unless responding to some friend's dare.

In youth, one of our grandest trees,
At last gasp, growth appeared the same.
Now, no foliage to greet spring's breeze,
It stands, unable to escape time's claim....

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