It has been said you are all just bricks in the wall -
confined and coffined in concrete, your moments
magnified in mortar, souls stone-stippled.
But listen: you are as flowers, individuals efflorescing -
shy eyes of violets, fragile forget-me-nots
unforgettable in pews of blues, sunshine celandines
beaming from sunless corners, strident daffodil trumpets
with everything to tell. Some will grow apart -
wayside wanderers, wayward and cast out.
Some forever up against the world-wall.
You unfold as petals, to sing in tongues of the sun,
in golden tonals, corolla contraltos, a floral choral,
soprano sepals, hibiscus hymns to him and her.
Flowering through stone, blossoming through gloom,
though shadow-dusted with dusk's lilac bloom.
Baptised in the dew of the new which forges
a world anew, transformed by the higher light
which highlights your days, gilded pollen-gold.
Days lengthen as rays warm walls, edges and corners
sun-softening, souls becoming sun-stippled.
Listen: these are the petalled messages to you.
Left little finger — mocks old strident foes.
Left ring finger — wears pale imprint after love ups and goes.
Left middle — taps out the years between hugs.
Left index finger — points up high to the heavens above.
Left thumb — presses today's stamp on yesterday's late mail.
Right thumb — flips through faded pages of old diaries.
Right index finger — traces funny faces on misted window panes.
Right middle finger — catches tears way before they fall.
Right ring finger — encircles promises with gold bands of hope.
Right little finger — wiggles forlornly until another pinky wiggles back.
Bitter storm-lashed halting site or haunt,
granite stone bench in lieu of hovel,
rawbone seat of pity for the pauper,
downtrodden, cast off, as I sense,
gut wrenching scruples writhe within me,
in situ almsgiver’s strident gulp,
respite, relief, twinge of conscience,
grim bench so derelict, let’s “address” this!
Soaring on a cloud
gently numbed
in esoteric heights
beyond the strident boom
and strobe glare
of leviathan
rearing to lasso multitudes
into cavernous jaws
that never rest
forever famished
in a perpetual stasis
of angry craving.
Waves in many ways—
eradicate what is straight
strident ripples roam
stroking cadence through our days
with vibrato, tremolo.
These waves wander in—
from sea-swell and drifting dunes,
patterns everywhere.
crinkles, murmurs, punch-lines rise,
breathing life with rhythmic beats.
Waves caress photons
wind embroiders still smooth ponds,
perms crinkle warm hair —
sand grains stream off dune-crest spines,
wave crests leap up to applaud.
Soft waves rock the boat,
lullabies for seafarers—
lilts in sea and foam
restful calm before the storm,
when wily wind turns wicked.
Twirling the senses,
waves blur the world's hard edges
with a gentle tone.
violinist's vibrato
with tremolo's memento.
Nature resonates,
reverberates waves' accord,
with quivering rhythms—
in myriads of heartbeats
in earth, water, sky, spirit.
The vociferous George
So, here we are, it is ten in the evening
And I have my glass, nay, glasses of red wine
I'm thinking of George Galloway, who
I must say he has mellowed since he left Britain
His voice is less strident; this evidently
caused by his love for his wife and living
Abroad is culturally good for him
But do I detect a slight drift to the right
barely noticeable, but I have noticed
Could it be because he is influenced by X
that some of X, readers have made him
a moderate? No, I refuse to think ill of him.
Nature is pushed back
Further and further, until
Childhood disappears.
At roads' terraced end
With his stick of age one points
Innocence' lost years.
Yet its strident will
Of a wind's force, ghostily
Strikes at the hearts, nights.
Fills up an image
In the mind, in a rainstorm
Of tears, tantrums, fights.
On a shard stretched of incomprehensible narrow, tight and wide,
a silent strident laugh I often forbade-allowed myself,
it's the ordered chaos indescribable, the howling clang
of hermit tear struck in a shattered version,
habitual miracle of screaming silence, poor wealth,
fulfilled-unfulfilled love in the sweet cruel pain,
embalmed wound of your gentle-cruel smile, deep-smooth,
chasm full of filling, lady-lord, speak silently,
divinely mortal, thus unfulfilled-complete, mute song
of swan terribly gentle, of angel broken-whole,
white-black of the cursed one blessed in forgetting-remembrance...
I long without longing, dying alive, lucid foolish thoughts,
perpendicular parallel equations, humble pride of ladies
rubicund-pallid, prostituted icons holy-profaned,
fierce cold embraced I feel in ribs empty full,
our loves lonely-together, I have spring-summer
frozen-inflamed, satisfied hunger for warm winter,
autumns with dry rains of sleet falling upward,
that fly-frozen calm torrents toward fields
hermit-populated, our stars extinguished-lit,
sky-earth, living death from the empty-full mind,
your caress burning-cold, my life confirms-denies!
No rosebud should ever experience a seed of fear growing in them.
Quote by poet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seed of Fear
A cryptic shadow slithers
Across a moonlit floor
Past tea parties, glass slippers
And naïve unicorns
Wearing feather boas
To reawaken a seed of fear
Deeply planted
By ashes in driving downbeats
Of thick moonbeams
That penetrates artless innocence
In a requiem for mercy.
Paralyzed in a coma of terror
A rosebud hears
The strident flute song mount
To sing an epitaph for stolen magic
As it bursts from its calyx
On rotting moonbeams
Sowing repeated ebony nightmares
By the full moon
That whirl and spin
In shades upon the ceiling
And like a thorn
The pulsing root sinks embryonic genes
Deep into shivering petals.
In satisfaction the shade withdraws
With skulking footsteps,
Oblivious to the rosebud’s tears,
Leaving pure petals wilted
In muffled agony
The callow flower’s story
Told in silhouettes
Of shadows on a moonlit wall
Each moonlit night
A ravished garden
Watered by mangled tears
A eulogy grows for ever after
In an epitaph for innocence
To pass from people’s probing eyes, two cheers,
To pass from all their strident cries, two cheers.
None, merely to kiss the crest of success,
But to stay there and ever wise, two cheers.
___________________________
Epigram | 08.08.2025 | success, test, cheers
Note: Inspired from Kamaal Bhopaali (Urdu):
Nazar nazar mein utarnaa kamaal hai,
Naksa naksa se guzarnaa kamaal hai,
Kaamayaabi par pahuñchnaa kamaal nahiñ,
Kaamayaabi par thaharnaa kamaal hai.
Most so called world leaders have been abused.' Than eases the task of making
Them of use.' War is always the main ploy
The shop window , that can be employed.'
The display arranged, to entice.' Never a light
On the backdrop of velvety vice.' Its mostly
About (freedom and choice) from the medium,
With strident voice.' With the marrow of humanity's senses under-mined and some
Mantra ( that all will be fine') we are embarked
On another foray.. Three cheers for sound
Reason, now..we are off with a Hip..pip..pip and Hooray...'
--------------------
Not knowing what the times sing, we,
Forest flames well before spring, we,
Our joy of life nowhere in sight,
At festive times fidgeting we.
------------------------
Life’s not just a stray piece of time
Given to us, reason nor rhyme,
It has a full spectrum of shades--
Far violets to infra reds,
A journey and rare odyssey,
Seldom do we live all alive,
And set off nowhere to arrive,
Live, but deep within all empty
Amidst all our strident gaiety,
To celebrate in a vacuum.
We take part but stand all apart,
Soul goes with us, nor ever heart.
_____________________
Quatrain |21.07.2025| men, life, time
Note: The four lines of this quatrain could well be the first two couplets of a ghazal. The following ten lines elaborate what the quatrain has to say.
In rigid halls of dogma's might,
Begotry's dark shadow takes its right,
A fortress built on fear and scorn,
Where differences are met with disdain born.
The zealot's voice, a strident cry,
Echoes through the void, a divisive sigh,
Intolerance breeds in every line,
A world of others, cast in decline.
The narrow path, a rigid creed,
Leaves no room for hearts that freely proceed,
The gaze of judgment, cold and grey,
Falls on the different, day by day.
Yet, in the silence, whispers unfold,
Of empathy and understanding's gentle hold,
A call to break the chains of fear,
To see the world through others' tears.
But begotry's grip is hard to shake,
As conviction turns to anger, hearts at stake,
The world divides, a fractured whole,
Where love and kindness lose their role.
YOU
not
THEM
ME
not
THRONG
US
not
U.S.
Misère
no
TRUMPS
MY WAY
not
THY WAY
Be Selfish
Strident
Wary
Caring
Not Complacent
Not Sacrificial
Self Sufficient
Ungodly
AI as soldiers
We see them walking naked through the town’s square, and organs not needed for the time being, the onlookers are not offended but worried about the strident gates of the new being walking like a soldier in a merciless army killing creatures big and small that have blood and have the sense of smelling the roses and is capable of falling in love and admire a full moon their overlord is a person dressed in a half-length black coat, who has the chip that can switch off the monstrous development into junk science an adolescent boy’s dream of tomorrow.
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