Do we have illusion, tantalisingly full of confusion
Some months there seemed to be a conclusion
But still there exists some nagging little doubt
Of what is really life and what's it all about
And here is what arose, everything that is said
becomes an instant memory
And every which way, we do choose to act
that becomes an instant memory too
But the question still remains, a hint of some delusion
Is illusion a reality or is reality an illusion
Will event of creation be revealed
By the James Webb telescope
Concentrating time
Like a kaleidescope?
Galaxy after Galaxy
Slowly being revealed.
Will the moment of Creation
Always remain concealed?
Will we ever see the glory
Of the birth of timespace,
Can James Webb ever show us
Creation taking place
Or will that event remain
Tantalisingly out of sight
So no Theory of Creation
Can ever be proved right?
Is the James Webb Telescope
Just a step too far
Should we not accept
We are what we are.
Just because we can
Doesn’t alway mean we should
Maybe sometimes a mystery
Can be for the common good.
Should the thirst for knowledge
Remain achingly unsated
Do we really need to know
How such beauty was created?
Are we unique sentient beings
Set here to record and investigate
Or an accident of nature, by chance
Unable to accept our inevitable fate?
James Webb Telescope enables us
To less blindly search, to grope
Towards an understanding that may
Give our species future survival hope.
It was there
Momentarily,
Tentative.
As if, like her,
Unable to decide
"Asking
'Which way?'
I say"
Perched glistening,
Tantalisingly,
On her shoulder,
As she emerged
After a quick shower.
And then.......
Somewhat embarrassed
Ummmmm scared
An unsuccessful race
Till the pat of
The 'violent' towel
Finished all trace
Of that water droplet
Isn't it said
And said sooth
The course of love
Never ran smooth
Secret lanes spiral
taunting mystic ramblers whose
fantasies spur restless feet
to wander dream plots
that shift like sands to driven
Psyches on infinite quests
for sheds or shelters
in misty vales fringed by lush
fields tantalisingly close
The sun is distant now; lowering its gaze upon me to a mere blanket of obscurity.
The sea is calm but still tantalisingly sinister and threatening.
The silence is hostile, I am cold and alone - each breath I take is an intricate requisite.
I am sceptical, burdened with misplaced ideals, unconvinced I will ever unearth the vitality within myself.
Kneeling on the edge of my own existence, I wait for a voice to utter my path,
The man in the moon offers me a reluctant and hesitant grin as he watches over me. I'm too incompetent to counter the gesture.
My inability in offering a tear is poignant for us both - He understands me. It is beautiful.
Love is loyalty and devotion,
The tender display of emotion,
A friend in time of trouble
Who makes everything alright.
Love is joyful and pleasing,
Tantalisingly teasing-
Some-one to have fun with
And a warm body on a cold night.
Love is giving,receiving
Trusting,believing,
One to share hopes with
To make the future bright.....
And LOVE can be a jewel beyond compare
Shining so precious and rare
That every star is dimmed
By it’s light.
Valerie Garman entered the world upon the tail-end of the upper-middle class
A place where the schoolgirls were tantalisingly innocent and the men were
Increasingly unbecoming
The sidewalks gleamed and the church bells rang
The winters snowed and the summer birds cooed in unison
The earth was lain with the vinyl siding of the haves and the discarded Marlboros of the have-nots
Yet this shall not be a tale of social woe; there will be no east egg and no west
And though Valerie Garman acquired her footing along the gleaming concrete Of the suburban streets
She came of age in the darkness.
And though Valerie Garman took heed of the silver spoon
She came to life on the business-end of a silver straw, shortly thereafter.
After Big Brother, and the Party had gone, the telescreens remained. No longer though did they remain solely in former Party member’s quarters. Telescreens had spread to the realm of the Proles. They no longer spied, or spewed out Party doctrine, no, now the telescreens enticed. They showed pictures of luxury items, and wistful holidays that were nearly affordable to those on mining wages, soldier’s wages, or hospitality wages. In the former Party quarters they advertised more expensive vacations and household items, desirous pleasures that were still priced close to the affordable, but only tantalisingly so. These commercials were followed by broadcasts of monetary values and credit ratings. For in the wake of Big Brother and the Party, all were seen as equal -Inner Party, Outer Party and Proles- by the Credit Agencies.
generations fought
struggled against tyranny
for future’s children
and in their freedom they seek
servitude to desires
Rivulets of crimson blood
Ooze tantalisingly from the gaping wound on her neck
He drinks hungrily, savouring every salty drop
Dracula wraps his black cape around his shoulders
Fleeing in the moonlight to his crypt in the churchyard.
07~25~16
Crimson Contest Sponsored by Royal Ninja
Alien implications of a turboprop turnip turning is usefully attuned to mystical presences. Mind stretching images of computerised garbage on an umbrella of slime. Outnumbered then are juices in helmets. Rotting putrid raw stench. Run forward and scream"the boots are green" to the tantalisingly tasty buttercup fountain.but an ooh ooh could never wear a tutu for it might catch on a tree or get stained in fig juice. Simultaneously placing a sunlight then. Wow. Would a swordsmanship display in a flower bed. Never predict the movements of a toasted mushroom sandwich in a bucket of limes.and Aldous Huxley is a tortoise who resides in a castle. How pleasant for him. But one mustn't be perturbed or perplexed by lifestyles of eckoos. Now haha ok. Xxxx juxtaposition jig. Xxxxx juxtaposition wig. Xxxx immortalisation.z
You’ll always remember
that first time
his hand
brushed against yours
and your eyes locked
in that instant
A chemical reaction
set off a rollercoaster
in your stomach
it ran out of control
could not be stopped
never to end
Extra-ordinary excitement
stolen glances
across the distance
enough to make you stutter
as you trip
over your thoughts
Eyes holding
passion and desire
lips promising
soft melting delights
hands clasped
around fingers of expression
Cheeks colouring
in the fragmented light
of your shyness
while sweet perfume
wafts tantalisingly
in the sultry air of love
29 August 2013
The Sound of Distant Ankle Bells
Memories of those delicate tinkling bells,
casually fastened around calloused feet,
take hold of my waking moments,
and fling my thoughts back to a distant time,
where folk-songs were heartily sung,
joyful, yet hopelessly out of rhyme.
I barely saw her, a construction labourer perhaps,
hauling bricks, cement, anything, on a scorching Delhi day,
while in the semi-shade of a Gulmohar tree, her infant silently lay.
A cacophony of thoughts such as these swirl around,
yanking me away from the now, to my cow-dung littered childhood playground.
Now, a lifetime of displacement has hushed the jangling chorus of the past,
to a faint trickle of sounds, as distant as an ocean heard inside tiny sea-shells,
and,
I know, that the orchestral nostalgic crescendo, rises, dips, and swells,
as tantalisingly near, yet a world of time away, as were the tinkling of her ankle-bells.
The earth greets me shrouded in mystery
All of her charms veiled to my sight.
Then slowly,tantalisingly
Swirling in seductive Salome dance
She offers herself glimpse by glimpse.
Until once again she stands before me
Fully revealed in all her breathtaking beauty.
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