Your message arrives at midnight.
A green phone lights in the dark
from a submarine at periscope depth.
-------------------
-------------------
You ask how
I've been.
You tell me
it's raining
on the train
you're taking
to ride home.
Just thought
I would give
you a ring.
Is now a good
time for you?
How are you?
Is all OK?
Nothing urgent
Nothing wrong
just wanted
to touch base.
-------------------
A long pause,
someone laughs,
a cough nearby
tracks clatter
a horn sounds
like a sonar
ping echo
Down scope!
They're gone
What's left? A dial tone ... hmm hum.
Pink skies infest the starry dark.
Pest sprays reject the fireflies’ spark.
Bald eagles chopped by green windmills.
Right whales lie beached as sonar kills.
Rage that I can no longer view,
Bids my sense of wonder adieux.
Dreams rise
Soft and distant
Whispers of hope take flight
Hearts will soar in the silence
Alive
5/4/2024, Vaishali, Bihar
In a society where I live,
Pride is a class identity,
And pain is a class identity again.
The color of people is cast
Into white, brown, and black,
All shades of the same soil.
People born as kings, servants, or watchdogs.
I live in a village of divided lands—
Bhumihar fields, Mallah shores, Nunia, Teli, Sonar,
Brahman, Rajput, split like crops on the farm.
I belong to the Nai—
A class of servants, kings, and watchdogs, all in one.
The air hums with stories of the Nanda Dynasty,
Pride wrapped around our class like armor.
Yet, sorrow lingers in the gaze of those
Whose eyes are heavy with dirtied dreams.
I live in a society where identity is seen
In color, cloth, and words—
Old roots buried deep like the broken tree
By Abhishek Pushkarini,
Which falls, like us, at the feet of the upper class.
My tearful words often seem lost,
As each passing day etches more pain into hearts.
But these small hands carry the strength to resist
The cruel stares of a classed society.
In a society where I live,
Pride is a class identity.
vocalisation
sonar echolocation
natal pods socialisation
Vos me das el corazón y yo lo escucho latir. Yo te doy el mío, y los latidos ni siquiera son de tu interés. Y si en algún momento dejara de sonar, ¿acaso te importaría? La sangre no te deja ver, nunca te deja.
barn swallows flying
in and around covered porch.....
sonar practice time
They found Amelia Earhart’s plane!
An under-water drone,
Using sonar, sent an image
Of the Lockheed she did own.
In 1937,
Out to circumvent the globe,
Earhart disappeared and searchers
Had no clues with which to probe.
She’d planned a fuel stop on an island
Out in the Pacific
But never made it; rumors
Of a crash were not specific.
Yet the years have not diminished
People’s interest in her case
And a current exploration’s
Given hope we can embrace.
Though confirmation’s yet to come
And will take pricey gear,
This news, unlike the usual,
Is wonderful to hear.
"Parallels and Platforms"
diving into the void
our hearts sound like
deep bluebells sonar driven
ringing in a new universe
humming lips caress throats
where words are born to erupt
but do not speak,
you can hear feelings
new bodies singing
fever pitch
dimensions spreading
ripples as in a calm ocean
parallels bend and meet
flexing into the smooth
spontaneous Dionysiac curves
in the out of time
warm worlds evolve
they join in luscious flexing
pulses rushing in frames
burning up naked as the Sun
massaging now tactile light
what once was deepest blues
into searing ultraviolet view
co-joined like minds
the formless fit tight
the luminous become one
exploding Supernova
platforms speak
dancing in each
other’s eyes
mirrors undress
the senseless,
sensing the fullness
of what was once flesh
now crystalline knowing
the sensual twist
intuitively
dexterous phantoms
eventually kiss
when we meet
intertwined
in the out of time
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
No beautiful face on sale; Bazar is out of order
Fairyland - O dear goddess Ishtar! - is out of order.
I was alone at home, we'd to spend the noon together
Now, she rings aft' afternoon: my car is out of order!
Life is not that simple that few words on paper decide:
Words are limited - leading quasar is out of order!
"My speech is not contrary to public benefit - think..."
In Parliament, members' seminar is out of order.
"We can't measure depth of sea, sorry captain! we're stranded-
Sea breeze is against our ship route, sonar is out of order."
We may attack own cities at this impatient moment;
Enemy jets are coming, radar is out of order.
April 01, 2022
unfathomable
all contact lost
beyond reach of umami
petulance 'tis impenetrable
sonar blips blubbed, unopened as dead mail
pings re-echoed dispelled, quashed
peripheral smiles cast-off in scows
shipwrecked eyes lashed with umbilical sighs
all at sea, adrift hand-paddling
willy nilly circling in coracle cradle corral
round and round the driftwood dry-rot
spins in whirlpool hole, nebula black
awaken not stirred the cast-away
alights from sleep alone, prone and dripping wet
self-marooned, ring-fenced on atoll beach
in cuckoo's nest
The more l delay , the more chances are throw into the ocean.
The Journey doesn't scare me at all as matter of fact it's my reason for being , staying behind in this sanctuary now that's what breaks me down and might lead to an early demise before sunrise and that would be a curse!
What l am to become after l take off is something they thought was impossible until l'm possible.
Was scared of the heights but l had to jump and climb to get to the next level.
Was afraid of the night , had to find keys in darkness inorder to unlock the refulgent energy within.
Prayed hard like Abraham and became the miracle .
Worked hard till my hands gave in and that was my season of harvest,
Shined so bright , became a blinding light!
Haggis hype
Bagpipes bleating like unshorn sheep
Tartan theatrical - military tatoos
Scotland cloning Dolly the Sheep
National pride - Robbie Burns, poet, bard of Auld Lang Syne
Highlands of ancient rocks, rift vallies
natural beauty, layers of worth
Loch Ness, geologic scooped, water serene
Nessie settled in depths, unseen
sonar detection elusive
marine monster of geeky charm
conjured in gift shop puffery
Nessie hat, Dragon like, tucked above protruding ears
In Edinburgh's historic streets
Whiskey fed men, burly, bearded
strut
wrapped in kilts
traditional garb
plaid, pleated, blessed, dressed
in woolen scratchiness (avoid a public itch)
Breezy kilts wrap manly legs menaced by
thigh high thistles
Scottish reach prickly
No matter
Scots men, image strong
(ignore the thistles and street whistles)
brimming swagger like malt liquor
skirting scavengers in exploration peaks
men in kilts (minimalism denied)
protectors of the realm
unafraid
to let it all hang out
Poem composed: March 10, 2021
In May of 1933 a monster did appear
Sighting of a mystery and they seemed sincere
A local couple claimed to have seen
This phenomenon as big as a submarine
An old Scottish tale of mystery always retaining
A vigil it was said in 1960 from a British University
Sonar had found a larger moving object of diversity
Stories from long ago swimming around their minds
This Loch Ness Monster never found yet still, unwinds
A myth, a tale or a hoax who knows as this story unfolds
Deep below theses waters lays a tale of a story
Of a Loch Ness Monster gaining all the glory
“ Not for Contest"
20 Year-Old Poems NUMBER 3 Passover Tree Swallows
Easter came a week into spring!
And diving like jets in ongoing wars
But reminding me of Jesus rising
My Easter encounter with tree swallows
Recalling too, “bats” at the Ponte Vecchio
Passing over me – assuredly – Tachycineta bicolor
Imitating sonar-powered dive bombing
Like peregrines toward me – O now averting
Collision at right angles, a loop, parabola?
Face to face with the whites of their bellies
Eye to eye with those iridescent male backs
So many today, they might be gnats, sweat bugs
Delighting my heart in this promised land
My exodus offers two options at my Lake
Hug the water to Cash Trail
Or wander among old Maryland trees!
Or meander with Laurel Trail lazily …
On this quiet, gray afternoon
In the finest spray of drizzling rain
I stop and give homage to all THIS
(c)Deo, shalom, shalom Friends. amen and amein
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