swaying gently, with the wind, her mournful dance
leaves unconvinced of autumn’s breathless fingers
ruffled as shy feathers who tremble by chance
risking impulse who silence says still lingers
autumn tells news of crackling paths so perfect
paved with golds, oranges and reds to collect
puzzling dreams pile up in the spirit who sees
songs of grace, fall’s aching praise on dew drenched lawns
melodies rich with hope, betrothed to the trees
who wander across peaks, peace on quiet dawns
jolt of what it means to believe in autumn
calm painting silence like a foggy bottom
wars were fought, once upon a time, on her soil
she breathed in the aching sent of bloody souls
while the sunlight caught hearts with glittery foil
autumn whispered her right that always consoles
far and wide, I see the splendor of her voice
even though I love her, I haven’t any choice
she has gone to such trouble to seek me out
leaving my heart immersed in her misty quest
I’ll always love this season, without a doubt
she is the one who assures me I am blessed
without her quiet ways, her chorus of praise
I wouldn’t know the beauty that can still amaze
THREE SIDES TO EVERY STORY
There’s the prosecution with firm resolve
With a jutting chin, in that righteous pose
Poking accusations, seeking the conviction
And trying to expose all attempted fiction
But with that one last chance at the close
The facts, around which it should revolve
The defence, allowed just a little latitude
Offers reasons why police were mistaken
Upon such factors the case is dependent
And seeking sympathy for the defendant
Claiming that due diligence was forsaken
Open hands, an almost pleading attitude
Then the jury, some keen but others not
Expenses paid yet not covering lost wages
The judge is expecting our decision today
But we’re all still unconvinced, either way
And this trial has been going on for ages
Let us just say guilty with what we’ve got
I've never been good with things.
Electric toothbrushes need a lot of thought,
Some honey jars
need more passion to open then I have.
Putting things together
is not my thing.
I break easy when mending.
I shine at midnight.
My hands
become as flexible as sea anemones.
Words look from my eyes,
or else I tend to fall in love,
with dead dogs, or roadkill.
By morning I am asleep
in my body again.
Skills scream and flee,
as I stumble towards
their small heartbreaking hopefulness.
I am good at twisting things together.
like knotty ropes and thin threads,
people come to me
(mostly the young and naïve),
Arrive riding skateboards through hilly clouds.
They come to admire, my left-handed life,
soon they turn away,
unconvinced
by my slack grasp upon reality,
with the way I insist that their petty wrongs,
are right ways to go.
I try to lead by example - by failing.
Friends let me off easy,
They quietly
cleanup all the odd bits and pieces
that I could not hammer together.
That list keeps getting longer.
day snuck up
before I could shut
the big light down
and in this land
where church bells
crack cold mornings
I am caught
on a day in a place
I am not prepared to face
oh well
this place
won't miss this face
if it rolls over
until the bars open
the night can bathe me
in sweet silky dreams
tuck me in its warm soft love
and cover me with stars
when its turn comes
I'll be easy
but this day
another cafe
coffee and cake
a walk along the Rhine
church bells
morning, noon and night
why
they don't toll the hour
clock tower's easy to read
they just remind me
of what I am unconvinced
wonder what the bishop
living with them hears
you are stuck in a routine
from which you'll never be free
for which, he (not she) probably
is thankful
day will never sneak up
on him (not her)
and those bells...
you know
Sighs
The fresh chill
Of November morn
The stare of icy eyes
While the sun is born
Fetal innocence
Unaware, the Fall demise
Young oak unconvinced
Not older braver trees.
Blow north wind
Unfettered
Against the shallow charms
And golden warmth, deterred
By fragile youth's alarms.
I'm almost disappointed
when
the pot of tea is
off the stove.
I forgot
her.
She stands next to me,
unconvinced.
I step aside
and let her
weep and wail.
She's here
for a few more days
and I will
figure this out.
She was sick
for years.
2/21/2021
Credit: Someone You Love Is Gone by Gurjinder Basran, Page 13
With angelic eyes, She was uttering love
While slowly turning those soft words
of an apparently innocent naïve poem
Into an immortal allegory of beauty….
And the reluctant protagonist of the story
Was measuring those words, neutrally
While sitting there , unconvinced.
Now a days it’s hard to decipher love.
Those mystical words of an eternal exaggeration!
Oh! Those balloons of enchanting floating words!
Sailing up, up and away!
In diversities do we find varieties
Proving the infinity of The Creator.
For us these are but differences
To raise the sword to kill and claim.
Unwise not to know truth of our lives
Every crooked line is straight in parts.
As clock marks every tick in time
Every atom has moved as per a law
But our minds ignorant to fathom
But adamant on our derived faith.
We live in utter bias and are blind.
while we have the winter wind
summer is forgotten in the mind
and again when the summer comes
we say the worst summer in years
and yet again those winter days
summer is forgotten by the mass.
We live on by this pattern that suits
Deducing wishes from our dreams
But wishes do fail at times and fall
By our own unconvinced will to gain.
In this lone journey of imperfection-
towards the perfection we dream
we have the Nirvana of Buddha
we placed the creation in Brahma
we found the oneness in Allah
The fulfillment of love in Jesus.
one truth in so many ways to suit
yet we kill to hoist our own flags
Ignorant their colour is the same
The colour of the life giving blood
The colour of love, uniting us all.
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.
Little rose incense leaves me in awe.
I adore the scent of my mother’s dishes
How I wish to delight the endearment of those near me!
I yearned not for favor but love
In anguish I stand displease, mutter fret!
Wondering how a man grew weary in woe.
I adore the valorous act of my father
How I wish to ravish the endearment of those dear to me!
I craved not patronage but love
In torment I live unconvinced, Ruth prevail!
So you've considered suicide,
Life's so bad you want to die?
Is this a moment of honesty ,
Or are you being an attention horror,
Guess either way doesn't matter,
It'd be the wolf cry I can't ignore,
Left your house unconvinced,
This wont be the end of this,
Cant encourage this behavior,
You've got to fix this, you're you're only savior,
I know people you can talk to with degrees,
Don't want my friends' existence to cease
I wonder why you told me this,
Keeping people alive isn't why I exist,
A huge burden just fell in my lap,
I don't own a life saving cap,
I'm no superhero, but I'll stand by my friend,
Just don't want your life story to end
The hate of time havocs foolish fate
And I, no one's blank slate
Will not my conscience hesitate
Or cast my eyes down at evening's gate.
You are neither victim nor demon since
You of your error is unconvinced
I am a child no more to wince
When white sheets of mind befouled are rinsed
I make my decisions without the noise
And cheap popularity's phony poise
But as humble I'd fear forfeit a sunrise
And have fool graffitied on unlighted eyes.
I have tried picking up time before
The past like frost from hoar
Had only present, and memory more
Than spite makes every pain a spore
When teacher asked what exasperation meant,
I thought that was so easy, a piece of cake,
but that was a presumptuous mistake;
I'm still unconvinced and quite dissatisfied
after looking it up in thick dictionaries
for the sense it's supposed to make;
I found out lately it's simply how you'd feel
when you want to swat a fly in exchange
for something too difficult to take;
the sly fly won't budge for it's happily perched
upon a red, luscious cherry right there
at the center of your birthday cake !
dazed days
in the e-jungle
of this wide, wired world
tell him this is not
the place to look for
what matters,
what's worthy;
unconvinced,
he stares, takes
a look at what to him
might turn out to be
a significant unknown
about what seems
and what is;
for there is
an inexplainable side
of what has been explained
that deserves a lifetime
of hard-headed searching
by the restless, explaining,
inexplicable mind !