A POET'S LAMENT
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Under the night's blank canvas,
I sit, a lone figure,
my ink-stained fingers poised.
I carry the burden of unsaid poetry,
ideas that were never expressed,
and metaphors that disappeared like echoes.
I linger upon the rhymes that unraveled
like threads pulled from an old sweater,
frayed and forgotten, lost in the seams of time.
I am lost in the fabric of language
unable to stitch together
an ensemble of cohesive words.
In dawn’s quiet hours, I wait for inspiration,
for the first light to break, to spill over
into the edges of my thoughts.
I sit, a solitary figure
my weary mind suspended
beneath the empty canvas of daylight.
poesy curse of hanging fruit strings
a pool topped up to the brim
will spill over
to
endless
drips
of
drivel
slops
Glibly goes; the globalists line deprivation is freedom
And eternal war is so fine' repression of the west that
Had afflulence and health.' That might spill over? to the
Third world..Kept upon its own shelf.' By empowered
Populations un-predated by war, in appreciation of advances, from the decades gone before..As thought
Pharoah Tutmoses; the second to none? The folk in
General are most numerous, of my riches whats is to
become? So he made 'interventions and punishments'
Hard.! to deplete them in number..To kill young males
His trump card.' And yet there was plentitude, innovation
All was well.' Now his agressive intention unto evil actions
Would sound the death knell.'
The sky remains silent, the clouds remain still,
The mountains still stand and the seas remain filled.
The saints clothed in white ask the Lord how much longer?
Will your world remain broken and this evil grow stronger?
This babe in the manger came to conquer and save.
How long till you take back this world that you made?
The angels sing Holy, Lord righteous and true
But the only ones that hear them are those who love you.
Jesus stands up, with his arms open wide,
He looks to the Father with tears in His eyes.
He asks can we go? can we get them today?
but the father says no Son, there are still ones to save.
But we will go soon, and do what you came to do.
we will gather our children, and make this world new.
the trumpet will sound, and Our people will rise.
And oh what a reunion there will be in the sky’s.
The sky will turn dark and the mountains will crumble,
the seas will spill over and the heavens will rumble,
oh hallelujah the angels will sing,
that babe in the manger is our conquering King
Sunlight tumbles
over an open window,
then swallow-dives
into a silver kitchen sink.
Fractals of reflected iridescence
dance over China plates.
A surface tension
between a faucet and a drop of water
creates a solar flare
within its liquid release.
I imagine a mighty splash,
picture an arching rainbow
cresting over high waves.
Buoyant beams
spill over the glinting rim
of a breakfast spoon.
You have no time, time’s not with us,
Back still, let love be brought with us.
Let no time rob our love in life,
Nor spill over love’s pot with us.
Forgotten we have naught with time,
Nor has ill time still caught with us.
Let’s give it a go, make it work,
Let’s find that missing dot with us,
And kindle love latent within,
Seek what was long unsought in us.
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Ghazal |01.04.2024|love
I have a darkness I carry
Like a black cloak
It is heavy with my sorrow
Full of all the deaths and all the love
That fill me and spill over
No matter how I try to bury it
Each death has shattered me
In a different way
Each visit to the cemetery
Each engraved name
Is a dagger into my heart and soul
The death of my baby
Of my husband and dad
And grandma
They haunt me for sure
I accept those somehow
But the death of my mother
And my sister- this I will never
Get over
I am shattered
They were my rock and anchor
They were my sanctuary and bliss
Oh, I can hear them telling me
smile when your heart is hurting
smile when you feel like weeping
find your strength when your heart is broken
Hide your melancholy and mourning
Smile though your tears are falling
Don't let the darkness win
Find your courage and strength each new dawn
Let only tranquility and serenity dwell
In your life
Stop your sobbing
Find a purpose in life and the darkness will fade
Just smile when you feel like crying
So that is exactly what I do
The dark of night when turns to day,
When slowly stars begin to blur
And birds, barely from sleep bestir,
Older by day, greyer than grey,
Dreams when spill over my pillows
And in so doing lose some flair…
In dawn’s refreshing fragrant air,
When I wallow in waking woes,
The sun when lights up at the dawn,
My body bones when not so fit
Whine having lost of youth a bit,
And must wake still— me, languid bone,
Here’s my bliss— when some bonus blinks
I steal, dawn unto day when sinks.
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Sonnet (Morning musings) | 02.01.2010|
What lets me meet you
Without you—it might so seem,
But fades soon like dew…
Seems like last refuge— a dream
And fills one’s joys to the brim.
Joys that rise like cream
And then spill over the brim
As no joys I deem…
So, let me keep you in heart
From where none takes you apart.
_____________________________
Tanka |05.01.2024| dream
Poet’s note: Haiku originated as a dialogue between two in love exchanging poetic notes, one posing a point, to which the other adds a couplet that completes the dialogue. Later, the two combined to make a Tanka. This one is a double Tanka, the next one as replied by the girl. The boy realizing that heart is a better place than a dream.
Red, orange and ochre…spill over into waterfalls of color
Sable, tan and umber…tumble into a silky symphony
Purple, wine, aubergine…cascade in chutes of amethyst fantasies
Russet, copper and rust…flood in flowing reveries of nature’s tears
Swaddled in frozen silence
In a weather so dolorous and damp
The pores of her mind sweat painful memories
Which take a headlong flight
Faster than the beams of light
At times shaking their fearful manes
As unbridled steeds, they come
Raising dust behind
Making all sanity blurred.
Often, they rise from their indulgent stupor
And spill over, submerging all extant thoughts
They never care to stand in queue
Jostling each other with no manners
They bump on one another, breaking all decorum
Like an unruly mob on impatient wait
Caught in the vortex of a whirling current
Her poor body begins to lose its equilibrium
And she plunges into the bottomless depth
To be choked there in whirling gloom!
In the judiciary of high quality
Where the advocacy is Equality:
Ideas that keep clashing with partiality
And would not condone one more cheap casualty…
Outside the court room stripped of Audacity,
In many regions facing Adversity:
Wherever the target is facility,
Not fair matching Dullness with Agility…
In Equality we catch the leveler
Of the sedentary one and sworn traveler,
A sparsely peopled body and China’s spill-over;
Those who sweat all day and the in-clover…
But they’d fight it: Giant made equal to dwarf
For being ships you don’t pair up with boats at wharf…
One doesn’t with Equality front an Earl
Who by reason of Royalty is a Pearl
Or maiden subjects pit against Princess
Who of their own free will they highly assess…
Battling with equality is skin color:
The worse for one whose complexion is duller.
O stop not laughing out aloud,
In awkward times spill-over proud.
Fate is no date to fret,
Nor is lent to regret,
So, laugh aloud, forget the crowd.
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Reflections |01.05.2023| humour
It's raining into a bucket;
church roofs are adjusting
to a weeping God.
In the face of these domestic disturbances
grandmother's are still cooking lemon-chicken
and cherry pie,
wondering what the hell for, and why?
Generations are gravely concerned,
we are forced to import more
cheaply made Chinese coffins.
For $24.99. we can buy youth in a jar.
but wait, for just a $100 more
we will sell you a mop
to wipe the flooding floor.
Good morning America
may I take your wagging dog for a walk
in a warzone today?
The Sunday rain is pelting -
wait, is that the sound
of tyrannical heels marching?
Let's give thanks to all the weeping gods
that we need not run for cover,
as long as we stay in the bucket,
don't make waves
or spill over.
When i first kissed her, verses were beating in my heart.
I was like a bee on a sunflower.
The numbness you feel
running through my ink,
Is nothing but that nectar spill-over.
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