thirst bard
lug your solid opus
&crop your sad lot
As the leopard
can't change its spots
the zebra of which
there are species three
(Burchell's, Mountain and Grévy's)
its stripes also cannot
black-and-white
supposedly
but white on black
front-to-back
in reality
it's cryptic colouration
a synonym
for animal camouflage
for which an entourage
of biologists resound
with unproven hypotheses
(e.g., keeping flies off in summer)
and specious theories abound
Opaque
unclear confounded
breathing seething frustrating
Opal lily rain Water
flooding living creating
dark confused
Cloudy
Simulation
Electric, terrifying
Planning, finding, using
Terror, scooter, pavement, road
Needing, getting, stopping
Loud, immediate
Assessment
Synonym of love, sent by God from above;
Address of affection, a perfect creation;
Patience personified, sacrifice epitomized;
Combination of all roles, an oasis to all souls;
Matchless forgiver, besides a perfect life-giver.
To her kids a fond mother, can’t find like her another;
Unparalleled caretaker, an ideal homemaker;
Source of abundant joy, knows not any ploy;
Ever appears so polite, conscious of everyone’s plight;
Has confidence so sublime, competes even with time.
Though she starves, her family, well she carves;
To the core she is viceless, her services are so priceless;
Knows no holiday, found busy everyday;
Solving every family strife, radiates each one’s life;
Melts like a candle slowly, giving everything wholly.
TRIBUTE TO WOMEN Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Beata Agustin
Date: 03-04-2022
Place: 1st
Synonym for love ah this bench,
For many a dream dreamt on bench,
The refuge of a last resort—
Felt by all that sat on this bench,
Of two happy souls’ hearty tales,
Filled to brim with joy by this bench,
Hand-in-hand old thirst when they quench,
A mute witness this happy bench.
Many come maybe soon to leave,
But where if ever goes this bench?
And when I pen paeans in its praise,
Lotus-leaf-untouched stays this bench.
Drop all pains to know, O poet,
It’s myth-like vain to know this bench.
_______________________________________
Ghazal |34.12.2020|
Topic: bench, memories, love
Inspired by a Gujarati ghazal of poet Takhta Solanki:
She made a sanctuary for synonyms.
Kept them safely sequestered away.
Had to spank pail and pale yesterday, she told me.
I was surprised, but not morbidly so. She is strict.
I had to chase when and win around the block.
I had to make flu and flew eat their vegetables.
I had to straighten out to and too but not two.
I was getting tired of these phone calls.
However, I have to admit, she is keeping masks on them.
And so far none of them have caught the Covid-19.
But I do wish she would release a few of them
For I need to use wail and whale in my next poem.
DNA blueprint embalmed in womb,
protoplasm embarks on a journey.....
enigmatic waves crash uncertain shores,
life effuses ...a seed becomes a tree.
A brief stay in a big planet, breathing in and out
fragile dreams race, to reach the summit top.
Crossing paths with family and friends,....
poignant memories heal wounded feelings.
Some hidden stars behind dark clouds...
Some unsung songs composed in heart.
Few poems remain, without an ending...
It's all work, no passion,.Eureka eluding.
A gilded life meanders, in turmoil of past
illusion of happiness, in amusement parks.
A vast field grazed, in unknown fear aghast.
hoping for a future...new things to embark.
Searching the world for a synonym of life,
Worthless wealth is all that we view.
Life asks a riddle "How are you?
Loudly we proclaim, I'm fine, Thank You."
Dated 28th May 2019
Sponsor Chantelle Anne Cooke
Contest Name: The Meaning of Life
Might mountain
Mostly valued by all,
Mountain contains no stones and grasses
Maintained by all fools
May be I know not the meaning
Mean life mostly climbed.
Synonym of Developmental Slavery
there once was a bashfully bashful shy and mistreated, abused girl
who new only about her own back yard
and in that backwards back yard she did not grow the proper intellect
now in a enforced slavery of the mind
she be not (wasn't) aware
for bondage new it's captive seemingly from birth
planting many unaware involuntary subjection's to provide for others
servitude now embedded in the small outpaces of one's mind
unwilling to be enslaved to the cruelty of it all
i do fight back as if by swinging at the air
with complete brainless misses
by emphasizing my complete right to suffer and contractually perish
to be a moth to flame
flickering my last dire moments in a vivid, and intense violent dance
wings are set to a fiery luminosity
ending has no wisdom of glory
now bondage holds no captivity over me
burden was a cruel inescapable master
I need more synonyms for my sorrow
new adjectives for my agony,
better yesterdays before tomorrow
with the prescription for my sanity.
For what is sorrow without words,
or agony without actions?
I know not of wingless birds,
or lovers lacking some attraction.
I crave stronger metaphors for my madness
better nouns for my nostalgia
before I am eaten away by their sadness,
I suffer from caraphernelia.
For this madness is a thorn in my mind
I hold onto the heart you left here.
All these things that you left behind,
what’s so good about picking up pieces my dear?
I resume being paused as my mind dissects the vernacular,
Is continuing to think, a symptom of strength?
I chuckle as I sit befuddled,
With a constant struggle between this or that...
Yes or maybe,
As a baby, knowledge of strength was passively instilled in me,
Watching my mother produce more out of nothing than I could out of something...
But my eyes remain fixed on power lifting,
Awkward body shifting,
As he lifts a ton, perfectly balancing the mass,
Which pushes me to ask,
Are my mother and the lifter somehow in relation?
If so this equation, or rather expression's direction is pointed away from my mother,
For she is greater than he...
He lifts, then pushes, then rests, i guess...
Since the first push of birth not only has my mother lifted,
But for 18 years she carried and balanced a household and 3 lives,
So no matter how hard you strive to convince me,
It's simply impossible to drown in a glass of water,
When my mother treads water in the pacific,
And because of her treading, I now have a boat,
And hope does float...
I guess Webster was just trying to save time...
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