The trees crowd in along the broken trail,
sunlight tries to push through, but mostly fails,
straight trunks spread out and obscure distant gaze,
there’s eyes out there, watching, afraid they’re prey.
Ahead a break grows larger with each step,
cerulean against the forest depth,
the summit rock cresting half of the peak,
this vantage sought by many weary feet.
Red squirrels chitter and dash as I emerge,
I want to shout, but I restrain the urge,
swellings of peaks spread out like tapestries,
their secrets hid beneath the endless trees,
a slash of gray where earth cuts through in stone,
Mother Nature is lost without her bones,
then rips of blue, a ribbon swaggers slow
to wild ponds saved by being remote,
marsh meadows near sometimes reveal a moose,
but today only mallards are in view.
Beyond this lies a scar, a bigger lake,
fringed by cabins and docks, stretching out straight,
above it all vultures fly on the breeze,
their slow circles effortless and lazy,
to think such birds get this view every day…
Who knows if again I will pass this way.
Categories:
swellings, animal, appreciation, beauty, imagery,
Form: Rhyme
It's gilded in bright colours
Like a peacock butterfly;
It sparkles in splendour
Like a diamond in the sun;
When it rests, it rests
In confined dank darkness,
In a bowel of nightmare
With what remains of a king:
a diet for forbidden creatures.
Now to what gain or profit
Are the swellings of ego
Which defined and measured
His reign of majesty?
Categories:
swellings, death, extended metaphor, grave,
Form: Free verse
The Royal disease
I'm no royalty, but I got the gene
The gene that I'll pass down to a carrier
Who'll be like the crown bearer
A crown of thorns to be cast onto the next
And like a chain it binds the victim
It confines them to a life of precaution
Cause our joints can't take much
From time to time they bleed, it hurts like a thorn
But unlike the hierarchy this is random
The bearer can be anyone
And cause it doesn't follow a pattern
It's hard to monitor and a pain when it attacks
It's carried in the x chromosome
And because we boys question it with our y
It's us who fall victim to it
Having to suffer It's wrath
To ease the swellings we got injections
We call it factor and its a big factor,
To consider self infusion
Cause our life's depend on it
But in place of factor when there's none
We have to take rest after an attack
Ice it down to cool or compress it to cool
Cause if it doesn't we forced to elevate it
The PO£T
Categories:
swellings, beautiful, childhood, community, dark,
Form: Free verse
Heed then the touch of certainty
That mellows in uncertainty
There is a strange reason why change
Fabricates an odd feeling strange
Embrace the conflict that confronts
As soul and mind and heart bear brunt
Seek to run away from harsh pain
That raptures swellings in your brain
Yet adjust to ample clashing
As grey matter combusts blazing
Anger is a crude attempt here
To survive the pains that endear
Bear with uncertainty right now
Yet live with what sweepings endow
Clear madness moves such crazy times
Where complex feelings kill plain rhymes
Success comes after tensile purge
Briefly jerking the fleeting urge
Leon Enriquez
28 August 2017
Singapore
Categories:
swellings, change,
Form: Couplet
It is surreal to me.
Corridors of dazzling colours.
Sonerous gurgling from hidden streams.
I must be in a gorgeous dream.
Murmurous whisperings of fairies.
In arcane little dwellings.
Or are they in the bulbous swellings
of unopen water lilies?
Far off I spy two beautiful fillies.
Until I stroke their silky manes.
In case I ner return again.
Please don't wake me.
Categories:
swellings, beautiful, dream, fairy,
Form: Verse
walking the floor
regular pastime
not about you
more about me
tweezers and splinters
droplets of blood as blues
not about us
more about life
accidental klutz
lumps and swellings
not about happenings
more about hurting
dynamic stone teardrops
cubic zirconium crockery
not about pain
more about truth
Categories:
swellings, confusion, identity, life,
Form: Free verse
The silver skies of early dawn arrive
And sparkle morning leaves with dewy mist.
When silence greets the morning fair, I thrive.
Majestic woodlands bloom, by Heaven kissed.
All nature sings; my soul wakes up, alive.
Each breath of air becomes my morning bliss.
With stillness, joy’s sweet solitude appears.
All worries dissipate; I know not fears.
Oh, humbled soul at morning’s interlude,
Sweet swellings in this heart stir up daydreams.
Imagination seldom lives subdued.
Where musing freely visits on sunbeams.
When, plans for new adventures soon exude.
There is no greater gift than solitude.
Seclusion seeks the quiet sparks of life.
And blessings from my God relieve all strife.
Copyright April 6, 2015
Categories:
swellings, god, nature, peace,
Form: Ottava rima
She wakes up before dawn. Mounts
her cardbox cubicle on the pavement
at a street corner. It is chilly and windy.
Without delay she pours cooking oil
into the aluminum container perched
on a three-legged stand under which
there are popping flames of fire.
In the yellow bowl she stirs the flour
with vigour . The fire is warming her up.
With her hands she squeezes the flour
into fist-sized lumps and drowns
them into the blistering oil .
Over a short space of time the blazing
oil turns the floury swellings into brown
round buns commonly known as magwinyas.
With her fork she pierces each baked brown
roll and shrugs it off into another vessel.
She yawns. The heat is soothing. It is coaxing.
She has to sell these chignons to eke out a living.
A single parent with four dependents. Like a thief
something sweeps her away. Siesta says sister let us go…
Her mouth is agape, there is a cascade of saliva
going down her chin , down where lies her vessel. The
sun’s rays are peeping. Her customers of school children
and factory workers halt and scream, “wow!”…and proceed.
Categories:
swellings, family, parody, satire,
Form: Narrative
I could not take it, the fear.
Transient flesh
vibrant in a sunken ship.
On a coral island
deconstruction of a fallen window.
Jumping on million skins.
The level of violence was rising.
Rebuttal will not convey
the truth, the reality.
A thin line of lips
skates on the ice of power.
In a palm grove
I was held by music of death.
My arms unwrapped
around the portrait of life.
White swellings on the knuckles
betray the gliding priest,
who denies the god.
SATISH VERMA
Categories:
swellings, art
Form: I do not know?
You free me
with this jettison wake
on the back of the boat
while the motor is brooding
too loud to engage in the tannic specifics
or to single the brunt of our salt conversation
Cormorants wish us the best on our journey
on markers to channels we slice right in half
and every follicle on me is standing
like weathervanes catching the brine in the wind
Rumbling water behind us is foaming
and troubling itself in it's bumbling spin
I'm like an afterthought, sun stone inviting
gripping my seat - let the journey begin
First to the island, impregnable solace,
which only the whisker of waves can attain
Next to the turquoising purple cut water
a mountain of miles from any dry land
I'll be beneath with the lapping of swellings
displaced like the snapping of bright seaweed pods
moving like magnets to waves with a purpose
to stir up the stew and absolve high command
Rag doll the moment and strike all my muscles
paralysis only the sunshine imbues
All on a Sunday like an imprint from kissing
You free me to dream, now do I free you too?
Categories:
swellings, adventure, happiness, life, nature,
Form: Free verse