Maybe it was his love
of Broadway musicals -
you can’t listen
to that stuff without training
an imaginary voice.
Same with opera,
you have to find a voice
you weren't born with.
On the phone he projected
like a turkey-cock,
venting sonority
from a T-shirt cannon
of printable sound.
You sensed his epiglottis
pole dancing,
while he pummeled fat words
into buxom shapes.
Most voices, in time,
collapse like wet tents,
but Osgood’s voice
expanded like a Billy goat's scrotum,
it became an overripe mango,
a bouncy castle for elephants.
Then one chill morning
his voice froze and cracked forever.
Osgood's large frame wilted,
beefy vocals became unctuous,
hands dangled unexpressed.
Eventually,
his voice crept back,
but only as loud as a kittens mewl.
He now whiffled almost audibly
through a hole between his teeth
we all noted with relief.
(Prompt: Wisdom is not enough to calm your fears.)
The kinetic world is on a great sprint.
The silent seer stares at with a squint.
He feels distressed for the occurring harms.
With a solemn demeanour, he alarms.
Identity crises among nations
Contending with insecure relations
Keep their voices go with sonority
For comfort and self-based priority
Within countries, separatists conspire
Catastrophes are adding fuel to fire
Forcing uniformity – a threat
It's never too late to change the mindset
Creative destruction is invited.
Creating mess is to be indicted.
Agape love can alone wipe away tears
Wisdom is not enough to calm your fears.
STUDIES
intensive
sources
&settings
comparative
ideas
&intuitive
vocabulary
fascinating
representation
expressive
imaginings
unconventional
&
uninhibited
yet
somewhat
stereotyped
&surrounded
increasingly
shimmering!
in
revealed
light
simple
with
inner
sonority
non-representable
in
an emotional
spectrum
Wandering winds wind through tall thin trees
sending constant consumptive croaks
with sustained sonority.
Quaking querulously
a mellow message,
a somber song,
sweetly sung
by a
zephyr
Across an azure sky
i trailed lonely as clouds
Lost and broken
you unlocked my handcuffs
you are the love,you are the lover
In the ambiguity of reverberence and sonority
my soul was asleep
i awakened at the rhythms of your love
you are the song,you are the singer
In the veils of darkness
i wandered in the labyrinth of unknown streets
your glowing face brighten up my path
you are the sun,you are the sunshine
In a bushy garden
i was hidden behind thorns
you extracted my nectar and pollens
you are the honey,you are the honey bee
I was at the verge of cardiac arrest
you unclogged blockage of coronary arteries
and cured my traumatic aortic rupture
You are the heart,you are the heart beat
13-01-2023
© Muhammad Aamir khan
I lay on the dry silken grass.
Tall thin reeds hide the sun,
but not the deep blue sky.
I watch the woollen clouds
chasing each other,
feel the soothing breeze,
listen to where the waters meet.
The river flows, a soothing strain,
sonority unrestrained.
Lethargy grips my soul.
I am loathe to move,
I lay supine, quiescent
like a stick in the mud.
Forget the week's travails.
Little did I dream that
just round the bend
you too were resting all alone.
We could have met,
and lay together, hearts entwined.
Would you have crowned my bliss?
Where you really there?
At last I wake and walk around the bend,
only to find that you were gone.
Illnesses besetting
Parents aging
Chilled waves of anxiety
buffet the shore
Thunderclouds dampening
soil and spirits
Cellos, subdued in minor sonority
play Eleanor Rigby in my mind
Painted ponies gnashing
at their metallic captivity
In February
Health returning
Sandpipers scatter as we approach
Collecting shells
with smiling mother
Children's laughter rains down
on half-filled sand pails
Thundering gales of glee
as they test the frigid ocean
Trumpets dance to the melodic riff
of Good Day, Sunshine
The painted ponies go up and down,
'round and 'round
the brass ring again in sight
In February
Dear Guitar,
As I'd strike you,
Please play my mind out for the world.
Give voice to that which can only be felt but not spoken;
Make it loud the thought that's chosen the path of silence.
In the heart of your melody,
Uncover that which is hidden here in me.
Even as I hit you hard in muse,
Ignore the pains
But paint my pain with the plain colour of your sonority.
In your sound,
Bring forth my agony
That stem from the realm of love
And the scars from the wounds of trust.
Show my fight against the man I don't want to be
And thee victory I had over the beast called "fear",
Hi, Guitar
I leave them all to you
No words, just the sounds!
In the nascence of one’s polonaise,
Always an unknown tune invades, unseen, unfelt:
The sonority of a somber night-sonata,
Inside a cold, dark tomb.
Aleatory existence led by revolting wheels,
Propinquity of flesh becomes insuperable;
The horologist can’t cease the ticking.
The tour de force of infinity--
I wonder why it couldn’t be a holding, exoteric.
-Pin Dew (01/05/2017)
When you loved me
There I was sat down
Your gentle touch
And your soft voice
Of spoken utterances
Which serenades my heart
What a lovely moment
When you loved me
The darkness of the night
Could not overshadow
The depths of hearts feelings
The brightness of the sun
Could not melt the sonority
Of the beats of the heart
When you loved me
Your electrifying presence
Was as spell binding
As a glowing nectar
Your presence I loved
Your absence I dreaded
When you loved me
Amongst those who longed
I knew I had a niche
Carved in your heart
The times we shared
Cannot be stolen
From memories vault
When you loved me
I brought out the smiles
Whose wonders are limitless
You opened my mind
To the world of possibilities
We pushed one another
With verve and beyond limit
Now I do not know
Whether you loved or hate me
Like a poisoned chalice
I have dreaded your absence
Seeking that smile
Which I once had
On a golds platter
In search of that presence
That unlocked my inspiration
I am amiss what next
The powerful force
That arrests the heart
May not do justice
To how I feel
Because I love you
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