A temporary obstruction
A quiet despair, in a few weeks, I will be very
old, do I tell lies to myself, saying, I dance well
When no one looks, but why do I remember
the Buenos Aires tango in a nightclub in
In 1957, she was in her forties, but with a sleek
body, I was seventeen, so beat that Macron
Then, in the morning, shots were fired, soldiers
thronged the deck of the ship and running about
in the streets, looking for traitors, the name
The dictator gave those who disagreed with
His fascist ideology
To think that much water has run into the ocean
Yet it happens again, a new authoritarian
regime in Washington
a dark time for America
but I know the Americans will rise and be
free again
It was never my intention,
not a conscious decision,
to cause you any level of grief.
Our give and take wasn’t as envisioned.
Blindly, I let you fall between my gaps.
It’s not right or wrong, but fact that
I got lost in a thronged rhythm
recovering from things life had given.
You have always shone a warm light
selflessly bright into my life.
Stern storms drowned my content,
turned me until forlorn bent.
I pursued a healing renewal but
my drenched attempts were futile -
I didn’t mean to hurl you into my duel.
Please accept my sincere apology
for giving less than you handed me.
I’d never set out to hurt another
but denying friendship gratitude
colors me pallid shades of rude.
Sacrifice
I was one of many on the Mount of Olives and
every year produced batches of black olives.
Sweet and black, my olives were prized near and far and
my owner would always brag about his favorite tree.
I was one of the first to be planted and was king of the grove.
Till one day some strange men in strange clothes came
speaking in a language I did not understand.
Next thing I knew, they took an axe and started cutting me.
I was in pain but could not scream as I had no voice and
fell to the ground helpless as I couldn’t move.
They cut me into two long pieces and carried me away.
Part of me was taken to a rocky hill outside the city and
part of me was given to a man who was beaten and bloody.
He was forced to carry me through the crowd thronged streets
being yelled out and whipped by these strangers each time he fell.
He finally brought me to the hill and I was nailed together
in a strange shape and he was nailed to me.
I watched as hid blood stained my fibers and saw him
slowly die, cursed by those who watched.
My last crop was the greatest as this humble tree gave
all for the Son of God.
It all started with a project,
Though it wasn’t really mine to begin.
I thought I’d play a minor part,
Yet there I was, roped in—entangled within.
One task led to a series,
Replaceable once, but now I belonged.
Amidst PDFs and endless links,
Glances exchanged, where silence thronged.
A minor edit became an excuse for a brief call,
The urge to connect sparked those random reach-outs after all.
Pixel by pixel and frame by frame, the project neared its close,
Yet beyond the drafts, nothing deeper arose.
I didn’t expect an answer, but perhaps I sought to know—
Working together made me wonder if something more could grow.
After 96 pages, we lingered, waiting for something to unfold.
It’s probably nothing—just familiarity, this to myself I told.
After all, it’s easy to confuse closeness with something profound,
or perhaps it’s just me, seeking meaning where risks abound.
Yet the eyes whispered a different tale, hinting at a
devilish affair,
Meeting in secrecy, amidst a crowded room, unaware.
Blitheness bears itself boldly by day,
Surmounting the summit of separative sufferance.
Ridges and ranges below bow in adoring array,
Where homage is payed to the uprising utterance.
Blitheness bears itself blandly by night,
Mollifying the wounds of the worried and the wronged.
Rills and rivulets ripple rosy in sight,
Where brutality is isolated and humanity thronged.
There was a man of stature small,
but ranked by wealth, he stood so tall.
He laid on them a taxing yoke
So, he was hated by the town folk.
In Jericho, he built his home,
but on its streets, he dared not roam.
Hatred of him ran very deep,
So, he tried hard his life to keep.
Within his heart, he longed to meet
the One whom all with love did treat.
Perhaps the Lord will sit at meat
with him whom all knew was a cheat.
He ran ahead and climbed a tree
as Jesus walked, thronged by a sea.
Once at the spot, the Lord looked up
And said, “Zacchaeus, with you I’ll sup.
That day Sinner and Savior met,
and he learned Christ would pay sin’s debt.
Grateful for the grace that Christ showed,
he pledged to pay back all he owed.
If you are lost, can’t find your way,
just kneel and to the Savior pray.
When Jesus hung on Calvary’s tree
He paid sin’s price for you and me.
He longs to come and with you sup,
to take your hand and lift you up
so, you can walk through life with Him
and live a life filled to the brim.
Death is destined to end life
Yet, it's death that brought eternal life
When man had a worthless life,
Death conceived significances to life
The one who created wealth and life for human
The purveyor of life, the holder of plan
Descended lowly to man like a ram to die for man
Whipped and reviled only to reimburse debt for man
The Rose of Sharon was trampled to the ground
Perfect in nature, pure seed thronged into the ground
Being the lion of Judah, he assented into the ground
With a purpose meant to rise and subdue the ground
A crown of thorns was placed on his head
Just to purchase my privilege to a sound mind
He carried his cross on his shoulders
Only to take away the burdens on my shoulders
The death of willpower transpired by the cross,
Consigned existence of superiority and purpose
The mockery, drudgery and death intended for me
Was swapped with his sufferings and death for me
Unity of the Trinity in Christianity
The Triune Allah-Jesus-Mary concept of Islam
The Brahma-Vishnu-Shiva... one with the humanity
All amalgamate into sole wholeness and grand great charm...
Inner ethical fiber as a solid foundation
Extended rhythmic reality bonds with each being.
Incorporation, like butter with bread, truth collation
Accomplished with the self of one and the other freeing...
Physico-psychic-spiritual warmth, like gems, adorned
Socio-poltico-economic rules, like galaxies, set
Philosophic-theosophic-historic thoughts thronged
Inner equilibrium eases each and every threat...
The three-legged table, thus, does many meanings disburse.
This, in its integral form, is a unique universe...
CONTRIBUTIONS
airless
yesteryears
egregarious
wearisome
awaits
credulity
enthroned
to
convey
a
populust
niche
as
floating
dross
enamelled
&
replicated
a
pedestrian
precursor
enamoured
uncanny
glazed
&circled
so strange
in
camaderie
thronged
in uniform
belief
Once almost a little village
Within the city’s bounds,
Huddled around the fish dock
With its own smells and sounds,
Streets of rows of terraces
All well kept and neat,
Pride shining through
Every worker Street.
Deckies, Filleters, Bobbers
All closely living there,
The Skippers and Mates
Breathing more refined air.
Overalled fish house workers
Mingle with and meet
Segged clogged bobbers
In the early morning street.
Then they pulled down terraces
Replaced with industrial estates
Rehoused to the city’s fringes
Splitting up families and mates.
And the fishing industry died
Trawlers tied up in the dock
And old Hessle Road trembled
Nearly died from the shock.
No more deckies, filleters, bobbers
All the fish houses long gone
As this once vibrant area
Learned to adapt and move on.
The once thronged Hessle Road
Seems near deserted these days
As the population slowly adapts
To the area’s very different ways.
Rayners, the fisherman’s pub,
Struggling to survive,
Has mementos of the fleet
To help keep its memory alive.
In an ironical gesture,
Sadly surveying it all,
There’s a mural of a trawlerman
Painted on a gable end wall.
A road trip through the Pacific West,
from Seattle along Sequim,
Ocean Shore, Seaside,
all the way to San Francisco.
The Pacific roared beside.
Frequent signs warned of Tsunami hazard.
While a warning at a trinket shop
showed an evacuation route,
an ice cream ad promised a tsunami of delight.
People thronged the beaches en route,
least worried, all in mirth;
a gigantic tide was last on their list.
At Ocean Shore, a man and woman stood in tight embrace,
the lady sobbing without respite,
a personal tsunami on the heave,
wreaking havoc on their aching psyche.
The Pacific just looked on beside.
Humanity seemed a cluster of ants
on the rim of a tea cup left under a tap
savouring their last greedy grabs,
weeping over what is not.
The tap looks down upon.
Yet, away, unknown to them
two superpowers were locked
in an eye-ball confrontation
over things of least real concern
portending a nuclear conflagration.
Lo, the Pacific stands for peace
as her name really means,
while men portend real nemesis,
their own apocalypse.
He sat in a boat at the edge of the sea,
The people thronged Him,
They hungered for His words,
His words flooded the gloom cloaked in them,
They filled the fissures that ran in them,
They were saddled with life's weights,
They were victims of circumstances,
Troubled by life’s vicissitudes,
They were in search of a saviour,
They desired a deliverer,
Spiritual gatherings were
uncommon in those days,
At the end of His teaching,
He told the sea men to launch their nets,
The life beneath gave heed,
They ran into the nets,
They yielded themselves for a catch,
They obeyed His call.
July 13, 2022.
STIMULUS
intertwined
separation
&
reconciliation
in
fused
theogony
fostering
time-lapsed
recreation
a sequence
equivalent
to
stop-motion
set in
a collage
in a
seemingly hinged
cascade
of
raptures
thronged&
reunited
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
The mystery of man
This is the third day after new year and the day
equally dark and miserable as they were before
the new has number changed.
On the Eve of festivity, drunk people thronged
narrow streets hoarse voices and screams
upsetting dogs and cats.
oddly, we celebrate the new year with
warlike gestures like fireworks.
Most of my friends are dead, yes, we too danced
the golden calf, not knowing what life was about
I still don’t know.
On the third sober day, the same old bombs
killing people, as arms dealers drink champagne.
Our democracy is for the well to do
for us subjugation and waiting for Godot.
A sender of shock waves,
Recipient to unable to remain brave
Days on end, the worst expecting
Week after week, comforting words ignoring,
For those who had their sources wronged
On them inflicting so much pain that people thronged;
The guiltless ones readily taking the matter up,
A notification of persons with whom they sup,
Every one of them prepared to a suit file
Against his attacker who‘d gone to such a mile:
Vulnerable as even the innocent is
To the malevolence of a curse
The great chances of this
Unfailingly drying his purse.
This, though, a country side anxiety is,
Most urbanites ready to all curses kiss;
For being a mere outburst of the furious
Absolutely sure they aren’t injurious…
But on their contents, I set much store
To their intents glimpsing some claw,
Not at all eroded my unscientific fears
That cursing lips are a lot more than voiced tears
Not just a verbal the social man could safely swallow
As being just an enemy’s chosen “hello”.
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