Morning Beauty of Nature
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Flowers' Petals open up
When the sun wakes up.
Birds' chirping wakes up
All that Nature brings up.
The whole nature covers up
Its dizziness by wrapping up
Itself with golden envelope
That shows happy n lively set up
Of the mother Nature reared up.
Bees are into work, birds start up
Looking for their foods to eat up.
Village goes well with Nature's tie up
To enjoy those scenes before pack up
City is the last riser that gets up
Missing all the beautiful set up.
What happens when we use up all the words
Tie up phrases to often spun
Sit in chairs while wondering
Why these spindly legs no longer run
Have we lost sight of visions dawn
Lost our souls amid a darkening day
Cursed the butterfly to fly alone
Believe the moment froze and so must stay
As far away a crayoned hand awakes
And on a crumpled page sees more than we
For everything is new and bright and fresh
For joy has found an open heart as nest
Are words but inert beings in life’s race
And we but weary poets giving chase
Have you ever considered
how your shoes will look
without your feet?
I should call Dr. Killeen this afternoon,
find out if I have cancer
but I’m enjoying the extra weekend of not knowing.
Strong oscillations
gather rhythm
and expel me or accept me.
It’s annoying
being the center of attention,
the dead man walking.
Things often work out better than you expect
and this probably will too.
In the transition to non-existence,
Ken said, you get what you believe.
Now that is a truly scary thought,
even scarier than Life is but a dream.
Pain serves the purpose of preparing
one to die.
Other methods have been tried but this works best.
You tie up your affairs
or maintain the discipline you possessed
when feeling well. Eschew
certainty about the afterlife.
All will be given
that must be what faith means.
Don’t forget to breathe.
Rain happens. We supply the reasons.
Leave no footprint in eternity. No smell.
Here comes —
slowly— the greyed fitness with heavy,
clasping hands, that tie up
limbs with the flayed string of life,
in which we build gingerly,
toddle for the last time,
and climb stairs more with our breaths
than with our senses.
It’s been over nine years now
That the coup against Trump
Has been rolling and rolling on
Relentlessly.
First we had Russiagate
Starting at the very tip top
Flowing down the Deep State slope to
Settle into an investigation
Which did nothing
But tie up a legitimately elected administration
For years.
Then came the actual coup
With stolen election
And trumped up insurrection charges.
And when it became clear Trump wasn’t done
We got lawfare at it’s best,
Over and over again.
And when that failed
At least two assassination attempts
Certainly got everyone’s attention.
Today the lies of those infected with TDS
Continue to flow
Simply because nothing has changed
Within their minds,
And likely never will.
Is this a significant threat to law and order?
No, because the only ones with power today
Carrying on the coup
Are the media,
That is if you ignore the dozen or so states
Which carry on the resistance
Like WWII Japanese soldiers
Stranded on some island without a clue
The war they fought and lost ended long ago.
And yet the coup flows on
Soon to enter it’s second decade,
Which has to be a record
For any first world nation.
(8/22/25)
Tumbling rolling like a stone !
Yes. going on my own :
Independent, frolic free
but not in glee
I'm not feeling fine !
Yet my life is mine.
Tumbling rolling like a stone
but to admit I'm alone !
Continuing venture -
It's my inherent nature.
Running always with thrill
But that's not a big deal.
Tumbling rolling like a stone !
where to stop ! Still unknown.
Slipping, sliding, I’m sick,
now trying to find a trick
how to stop my motion !
I wish termination.
Tumbling rolling like a stone
as habit , from zone to zone .
But now I'm to settle in a home.
Damn tired to roam and roam.
When I will be able
at least to stay stable !
Tumbling rolling like a stone
As shuttle cock, random thrown !
Dear, no more delay, come sharp.
Please hold my hand to tie up !
Come close sweetheart, be mine !
In cosy home we’ll be fine.
We two try to walk parallel,
Our relation not marital.
Unable to walk together
but we can't walk away either .
Don’t try to judge who is better.
as oil can't mix up with water.
Happy ending is not certain.
This chance may or may not happen.
Truly, we may not get along.
Yet not to separate life long.
Necessarily we feel thrill .
No commitment but making deal.
Facing clash at every corner
Useless to know, who is winner.
When I come, she is sure to go.
Yet my ego not to forego.
If oil goes on an explosion,
Water controls situation.
Yet we can't prepare 'Solution.'
Mixing yields just an‘Emulsion.
Our action and interaction
always end in contradiction .
Whatever, we cannot break up !
Somehow we are bound to tie up.
First you take the girl
up on the southern Downs -
on a day with light wind
and bright sunshine.
Then you unpack things
from your bulging back pack -
with emphasis on those
Picnic goodies.
Next you ask for help
stretching the fabric out
to fit the sticks inside -
looking in her eyes.
While she holds the tail
you touch her hand with yours
as you tie up the string
ready for the air.
You give her the reel
and offer up the kite
to the heavens where her
presence transports you.
Place your hand over hers
and show her how to let
the string free the kite to fly.
When she turns, kiss her.
It's very simple.
© Griffonner 2024
SEPTEMBER FALLS
See autumn begin in the cooling air of September
Every year that month arrives at summer’s ending
Perhaps for some, it’s time for one to remember
That each of the seasons has a message it’s sending
Every leaf that finally turns red or gold, then falls
Making a statement that the moment has begun
Bare branches above, as they obey nature’s calls
Each with their memories of a warm summer sun
Resigned now to be scattered by cooling breezes
Following in the footsteps of each passing season
And in the cold air, hints of a time that pleases
Leaving a bounty behind as it whispers its reason
Left alone again now to tie up all the loose ends
Soon it will be over when Winter’s chill descends
With eyes the colour of ocean blue, so calm and clear and deep.
The beauty sits upon your face and forever your beauty will keep.
Hair that goes on forever that twists into a spiral of curls , when you smile your face lights up , like a priceless display of pearls
You are the earth beneath my feet and the clouds above so high.
You are each and every emotion in me , including the tears that I cry.
You are the rainbow in the sky to help me clear the air, Pretty coloured ribbons of red that tie up in your hair
You sing
You skip
You play around , with the joys and sounds of laughter
You'll be loved today
You'll be loved tomorrow, until forever after
God-vision as a game of haves and have nots,
little wonder then veiled remains voiced intent,
for those who know not, tie up symbols in knots,
whilst those illumined, know the path of ascent,
reading between the lines, feeling not thinking,
their heightened awareness, firm and unblinking
and so we may say, meanings by each assigned,
depends on extent to, they’re with truth aligned.
Slide ever so slowly O Life,
I’ve many a debt to meet still,
Many an ache, pain to treat still,
To do some duties discreet still.
Some were upset in daily drill,
Some lost life's bet, some feeling ill,
Those upset, to welcome back still,
To win back the weary ’s wit still.
Some desires stuck are as dreams still,
Some work be done, debited still,
To heal hurts and harms of heart still,
Bury the dead, soothe bereaved still.
Some bonds that whilst bonding bore chill,
Links broken down on the anvil,
Nurse wounds of all relationships,
Tie up all these pending tasks still.
So, O Life, walk ahead of me,
Can I ever live without thee?
To whose blessing breathes my life,
Can I ever defeat its will?
Slide ever so slowly O Life,
I’ve many a debt to meet still,
_____________________________________________
Ghazal |11.12.2023| life
Poet’s notes: The year 2023 is about to bid goodbye. So is the life being lived. The poet here entreats time to slide by slowly, he has many a thing to do. Translation of a Hindi piece.
The pale blue hospital gown
won't tie up at the back.
From behind, my rearend
looks like a small Baluga whale,
peeping through a linin sky.
My soul is adhered to a point on my chest
where a tube feeds it one drip at a time.
3 days in, and I am well enough
to be truly sick.
The nurse, once caring and pretty,
has morphed into a hairy Pakistani guy
who sneers a lot.
What I need is a window seat,
a book of poems by Charles Baudelaire
and a tall glass of chardonnay.
What I have is a torture rack
that goes up and down,
but never moves anywhere.
My daydreams have become nightmares,
yet, and this is the crazy part,
I wake up each morning
with an ********.
I admire myself for a little while,
then the blood suckers arrive
to draw more blood
out of my depleted reservoir
of manliness.
CLEOPATRA
Cleopatra ! Queen of Egypt : Historic black beauty.
Erudite, Great politician, most charming , alluring cutie.
Her exotic charisma with great magnetic attraction.
Whelmed Julius Caesar to tie up romantic relation.
Flannel sheets and hard cider unravel the wound ball of uncertainty that never moves to the rear view window. Must, sparkable fire wood and 9 am coffee breath slithers its arm around my waist, the only part of myself that has never learned to accept what it sees in the mirror. At the breakfast table eggs get tossed to the outskirts and bacon is devoured in a sniff. Eyes meet eyes and regret meets consciousness. The fire gets extinguished along with lust. We tie up vintage skies and pull away in a tornado of air-borne snowflakes.
“To new beginnings”
But what happened to the old beginning?
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