Indians have been making big splash,
And now there’s this Patel called Kash.
What, never heard of him?
He heads FBI team,
In highly-held hyphens, big dash,
One subsists or just leaves,
He in himself believes,
And tries once again all afresh.
______________________
Happenings |05.12.2024|humour
Poet’s note: Trump appoints his long-time acolyte as chief of FBI.
As thorns exist with the rose, or redness subsists with blood
The evil that dwells in hearts has its traits in the physique.
Though humans try to nip all negativism in the bud,
Expressions of the powers of pessimism are unique.
They lived with humans who couldn't live with other humans.
Some took shelter in hills and mountains, and some lived in tombs.
To them, day-to-day life and duties seemed like illusions.
As though in unison with nature, they tore their costumes.
Jesus contained them all, as a sea could hold any drop.
His words and touch, as medicinal herbs, healed their ailments.
Peace, joy, and freedom in physique and psyche flowed nonstop.
All who witnessed his acts praised his divine accomplishments.
Demons, yet, in the form of Sadducees and Pharisees
Finding fault with him, they could find their souls, never at ease.
The whirlwind of time drifts my soul
from life rooted transient in the present
to the distant desolate nowhere
where I was once, but left forever.
That’s the fading past receding fast,
yet to be abandoned and obliterated.
Out of the shadow of perennial future,
creating the convivial flood of copious love,
time cascades to inundate
the lavish landscape of life sculpted
in my mind where dwells the desire of perpetuity,
the deathless dream, eternity.
The entrancing memory undying,
subsists in the restive recess of the past,
as my enticed bird soars
in the fleeting firmament of the present,
spreading the dreaming wings to embrace
the halcyon horizon of the future.
With the imperishable soul,
afloat in the sublime sea of timelessness,
wafted by the congenial longing wind,
I’m on the sanguine sail,
yearning to get from time's magnanimity,
the surreal gift, eternity.
I die, we all die...
plant, the flower, flesh die..
only love ethereal eternal subsists ..
I am a paling star to be washed out
In the dazzling brightness of the arriving dawn
A calendar that ran out of time
A broken guitar with strings loose
I will soon exit out of life
Like a man hardly anyone knew ever existed
And only very few would miss
As I look back to the prime days
I feel years have flown away in a flurry
Like scraps of paper whirling in the gale
A dense fog crawls up into my eyes
The verdant vistas and smiling faces
Have discoloured like weather worn paintings
The violet shadows of red rocks
Form a dark cave within me
Nothing subsists in the dells n’ hollows
Of my memory
I wilt under Age’s burning breath
And wither under its deadly blight
Now I drift... a rudderless vessel
Through unknown waters
Waiting at the Departure Lounge
I now have only one prayer;
Don’t let me scorn and disdain the young
Whose sky is wider and dreams endless
Who walk with nimble feet and sure steps
To conquer the world that has left me a scrap!
On a chain - I wear a cross.
Around my neck I do.
I don’t wear it to say, “I Am”.
I don’t wear it for you.
For me - it’s now a symbol of compassion and humility
and the world’s need for love.
It's a cry for a peaceful existence
just like the symbol of the dove.
When I was young - I often went to church.
It was a place my parents brought me to.
For I was baptized Greek Orthodox
therefore - an expectation of what I must do.
There - many things made sense to me.
Now some did not, and don’t.
But I learned to not be bothered
by inaccuracies and the unexplained – I said I won’t.
In my later years - I searched, felt, and realized the mystical
in the one God I believe exists.
And in the plants, the animals, and of course humans too
I discovered a spirituality that subsists.
My beliefs - might now be complex.
Some might say they do not fit a norm.
As I read about other religions and the spiritual world
I ultimately went through a reform.
Today - I occasionally go to my Orthodox Church
to pray in a place of sanctuary, where they say God does reside.
To fulfill a never ending need to learn and understand
and to still a rather busy mind.
If true love subsists
Then hate the truth
It should not be done though
This world must be great
We will live in a human society
Full of love and peace
It needs to subsist life
And beyond the sea
We will all come with each other
And shaking hands together
The world is one now
We will stand each other
And in perfect orchestration
Soon this world will shout
It was God's scheme
But it was our dream.
At the edge of the shrinking time
in the gleam of pale twilight hour,
down the misty memory lane
I see me walk my children
on the changing contours of childhood,
hands held with paternal care,
with warmth of everlasting love
as they grow wings, fly away later.
An ancient mariner, self-disposed,
I navigate across many a rough sea,
with propitious winds of love and empathy,
on the frayed sail, I strive to raise,
you all take me to the shore called home.
In the obscure depth of introvert psyche,
the shrouded sense of gratitude subsists,
instinctively silent, undemonstrated.
Engulfed by seamless emptiness of solitude
I open my window on the flushing meadow,
the sunburst dawn sparkles on pearls of dew.
My blank mind morphs into a Monet canvas,
on strokes of bruised brush paints of joy flow,
forlorn life configures in spectrum of expression,
as the sensuous stimulus of the pristine nature
aspirates the dormant artist in me, unexposed.
Written : March 2, 2020
May 27, 2020
Contest : Brian's Choice X
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Cornucopia Of Stars
Whilst cruised adrift soared vast ocean read stars,
Afar interval page Earth's crystal seas,
Space passengers booked sums bout avatars,
Chapter launches since archived gravities.
Scan per reposed heavens, Earth angels host,
Sprawled free honesty exalts harmony,
Wanderer's blessed hearts a sung melody,
Harp solos sojourners attuned utmost.
Origins, through edges, test proper hopes,
Advent horizon explorers broad scopes,
As Terra dwellers foresee remote news,
Of another Earth subsists whilst their views.
Nirvana utopists merge trudging past,
Transpires being the most advanced outcast.
2019 October 15
*Honorable Mention*
I sense Tomorrow is the Future
~~Sheri Fresonke Harper
Your face is
my mirror to the universe
through which,
I peep into
everything that subsists,
crafted by the creator
Your facade is
a book,
restraining
our love-story;
every MOLE of which,
is a ‘Full stop’ of its text
09:35 pm | Sunday, June 7, 2019
Time's eyes twinkle kindly towards my fate,
while I steal glances between old growth trees.
Aching for what's beyond the path that waits,
that rekindles a driving force within me.
It has been so long ago since I've felt
the tightening of sweaty hands against
once argent frame, where fond affection dwelt,
and heard teasing laughter that would ascend.
Sheath in his continuance of life, which cleaves
with passing of time, love did, finally bloom,
while petulant leaves and wisp of wind weaves
swapped stories on whist cool nights it consumes.
I nuzzled into his embrace, to exist
there forever, relation which subsists.
7/10/2017
O my human being,
Move, O my human being,
Remove the enmity
Enmity has spoiled the humanity-
Use your head O human being,
And behead the atrocity
Atrocity has ruined the humanity-
Have will O my human being
Please kill the immorality
Immorality has ruined the humanity-
Enmity, atrocity, immorality
As they have audacity
Among us exists
Existential crisis
Along with us subsists
Substantial chaos
Enough
Wait not
Get rough
Nothing more
To think and sink
O my human being,
You must dwell as a being
In future too
An expanse of pregnant clouds gather
I hesitate mid-step in petrichor air
anticipating a breakthrough, a rumble
the rain.
A lone desert tortoise roots for water
as he subsists on tiny droplets
he hunts for pearls of condensation
collecting on sparse foliage
scarce puddles of liquid gold
that form in the early morning dew.
Searching for rain in the desert wastelands
a lone bald eagle scavenges for food
to feed to her young fledglings
who eagerly await her return.
The desert languishes, barren and lifeless
waiting in anticipation at the dawn of day
day after day, month after month
until today...
As now, I look and wait, fresh rain appears
heaven sent, it's moist jewels escape
from the sky, falling down in heavy droplets
upon the thirsty ground
bringing new life to a dry and weary land.
Rewritten on 1/11/2017
I will rise trying to kiss the stars
Parting behind broken scars
And with every rise I try to strive
I perceive my goals like a shooting light
For I don't know what the smell of success is
As the journey of life is a never ending test
Just as failure subsists a shadow of destiny
Leaving no room for empathy
But the rise to reach the stars will never stop
As one day I will reach the top
For as hard and deep the wounds may be
I will rise and you will see
I will rise and you will see…
[Re-posted]
From dregs
of twilight embers,
pale dawn’s embrace—
and naught but rusty glow
stolid umbra to banish,
in wan resolve,
from these, my solitary rooms.
Echoes.
Small children laughing,
afar and ago—
profound diminuendo.
Still, I grasp—
clutching sand—
a dying world to hold.
But pain’s recall
subsists—
and, shuddering,
ebbs,
into my eyes—
drips through my fingers
and onto the floor.
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