Empathy, Sorrow, Guilt, Shatter
In the physical world, nothing really matters
Dead will be dead, the sufferers may not survive
Because, none could savour the "Grand Privilege Platter"
Pleasure, Love, Compassion, Discern
I want to unlearn all these concerns
Because shards of me die as the days slip
But what could one do,
If they aren't privileged enough to earn
Chuckling Nelson Mandela
carried a chequered umbrella
almost thirty years on Robben Island, a prison
he ascended to a powerful Presidency, wearing a red ribbon !
________________________
[Poet’s Note : President Mandela actually did occasionally wear a small red ribbon on his lapel, during his Office, indicating support for AIDS sufferers, at the time when the disease was at its peak, worldwide]
_____________________
Placed 2nd : Clerihew Contest
Sponsored : Tania Kitchin
May 26
A nobler theme needs more sublime art
In order to its honorable nuances impart;
And thus may famous muses of niftier writ
More tastefully craft this little lyrical script.
And if generous gods of superior rhyme there be,
Who with pure ease mellifluous tunes compose,
Then may such these tottering lines indite with me
And delve deep where rarest musical gems repose.
Where do love’s purest pearls lie
Beneath this bland ancient sky;
Where hug and kiss their warmest
Elusive touch pulsate at its best?
Truth is maimed and denied its form
And falsehood has become the norm;
Who knows any place she still thrives
Wholly unsevered by knavish knives?
And hope no longer blossoms
As it did in sweeter days of yore,
Now she’s worn out to the bottoms
And angst and doubt rule to the core.
And peace completely extinct is:
Chaos and strife now carry the day
And gallivant about in their hubris,
As mourning sufferers tearfully pray.
“ Everything is fair
in Love and War.”
Why It is said so ?
Root cause is Ego.
‘Ego’ is itself selfish : No doubt.
Self -Centred : Absolute .
Most condemned word is “WAR “ !
No explanation is needed : Most clear !
Mainly to overpower other
Races, Nations, those are
weaker !
Whatever :
Only Common people are sufferers.
Tormentors are Invaders !
Mostly political Leaders.
No wonder !
Entire blame goes to administration -
obstructing progress of civilisation.
Humans mainly fight
violating human rights !
War entwined with selfish ego
somehow to forego ~
Selfish Ego to demolish ….
Peace and love to cherish !
To attain perfect civilised world
From dictionary, remove the word
‘WAR’
forever.
I woke to see disoriented infinite shelves,
Enormous books lay with utmost silence.
In the floating dust, identity was found,
And under the endless meanings, the self was buried.
The turning pages reminded me of the unremembered hands,
Meanings were blurred, voices were invalidated.
Every dawn made me welcome to enjoy the curse,
For time had lost its aim.
Sometimes I met sufferers, while others were not counted,
Their tired eyes seemed to be of the weariness of traveling to eternity.
Voices filled with vain efforts, unable to be comprehended,
Since the mind was stuck in endless letters and pauses.
I understood that hell is not about fire or pain,
Though punishment was given through endless reading or searching.
I looked for a respite but was forever denied,
When properly ordered, souls drift astray forever.
Life grew bland, banal, other B words
she said I need to gather a troupe
of like-minded sufferers
set up some auditions, form
a select band
we'll workshop the basics
characters, costumes
And then we'll act out the rest of our lives together
no need for cameras
or an audience
call it pure theatre
oh the dramas we will have
No it won't be any stranger than
singing in the parlour for friends
without a microphone, a paying crowd
you can call it the folk tradition
My Inner voice told me to respect
Universal Moral Values always
at each step of journey, precise perfect.
Truth will guide my path in glory and glaze.
This principle was blessed by my Dad
and has been stored in the core of my heart
That’s the firm pivot on which I can stand
and proceed at ease from the very start.
My inner voice told be to act right,
always behaving courageous.
Aiming justice, I am ready to fight.
Not religious but righteous.
I don't pray to rescue me from crisis
but ask for inherent strength to confront.
In barren desert I must find oasis.
Not to mourn for past , but to look at front.
My Inner voice told me to lend hand
to the needy and sufferers at best,
also to send juniors this errand,
to be followed by generation : Next.
Addressing me, Dear Dear, My Dear !
How could I wonder, what you are?
Simple an advice , can you hear ?
Take care of yourself : Am I clear ?
Lesson in preparatory :
Serve others , it's mandatory
to place in top category
and throughout life to carry.
Have courage to act righteous
with selflessness ! Oblivious.
Keep fit yourself to help others.
Lend helping hand to sufferers.
Self confidence is your pivot
Dynamism is your pilot.
Honesty is sail of your boat
Take bricks of truth to build your fort.
Already you have reached last phase
Now to leave all whims and craze,
as death is stepping to erase
your involvements and golden days.
This is a call to all sufferers
hanging themselves in their own arms
apart from the one they desire
tired of nights sleeping alone
restless in grave prisons of the
place they would rather be,
whispering wishes and psalms to the
silence of walls that will never speak.
Seeking out their most beloved unknowns
that which they do not know outside of sleep,
the reason for their itch to stay in bed
for its ease to dream and play on nocturnal grounds
away from emptiness of waking
when time is occupied by working and despair and drinking.
An escape to care and to be cared for unconditionally
from the depths of a majestic heart,
that reciprocates the true yearning
between two divine animals
to frolic and escape the solitude
of the malnourished zoo of the world.
I am sorry to the ones
Who never had a chance
No love nor opportunities
Due to circumstance
I am sorry to the unheard
The unseen, the forsaken
The forgotten, the disregarded
The ones from which life has only taken
I am sorry to the neglected
The mistreated, the ostracised
The abandoned, the rejected
Where love and nurture were never prioritised
I am sorry to the lost and lonely
The ones in turmoil and pain
The sufferers, the fearful
The ones with who sorrow reigns
I am sorry for all the bleakness and helplessness
The unfairness, hurt, cruelty that many endure and face
“It is never right nor fair”
Life can be an unkind and unjust place
From my heart …..I am truly sorry!
A good man of great stature
A presence so strong
Head of a company, head of the family
The place he belonged
Now he sits in a care home
A toy cat cradled in his arms
Imprisoned in his own mind
Void of worry or harm
Life is a blessing that is true
Yet is tainted with such a sad side
Like the sufferers of devastating dementia
Victims of the Long Goodbye!
Time is too slow
for the anxious sufferers...
Too quick for the fearful.
A flash for the greedy
and celebratory acolytes,
further than a penalty,
for those who lose it...
For those who live in love,
is always immortal
and infinite...!
i posted this poem and got a hundred instant hits ~ my wrist’s sore
next time i need self inflation ~ i’ll tap my muse and beg a bit more
and carpal tunnel sufferers out there ~ these monokus don’t ignore
LIFE IS A SONG
Life is beautiful, life is precious.
Make life lovable and marvelous.
Meet challenge of life being righteous.
Every step of life must be gracious.
Optimistic zeal to run gorgeous.
Devotion on action ! Oblivious.
Love and compassion to make life glorious.
To fight for justice simultaneous.
Be prompt to lend your hand to sufferers.
Your help and service sure to get bonus.
Self confidence is pivot ! Obvious.
Not you and me ! We are for all of us.
Propel dynamic life : Be valorous.
Self sacrifice not superfluous.
Life is a song to sing mellifluous
on note of truth tuning melodious.
Lyrics of song to show petals of lotus.
Song of life not solo ! Sing in chorus.
Early morning delivers birdsong joys,
as the darkness is swept away by God.
Undulations for my ears, sonorous
and dear, over and over - I ponder
small bodies with feathers, noteworthy songs.
Why does their cadence console us each day
as the sunrise breaks forth with cheeriness?
How awfully sad that the night dwellers sleep!
They douse their ears with flammable liquid.
I weep for soused sufferers who miss out!
I spied the church steeple, with a “caw, caw.”
I bet those crows are there each day to greet
those seeking the inner doors of its peace.
Who notices but I, the poetess?
Who cares at all if crows speak well of us?
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