On life's stage, masks of false smiles dance in the lights,
People seem close, but distance hides behind the curtains.
In whispered conversations when friends leave, the truth is unveiled,
Online, perfect vacations hide dramas and swirling sorrows.
No one is truly bad, just people carrying unseen burdens,
Insecurities and fears that sometimes make hearts seem astray.
It might be jealousy or a bad day that casts a shadow on kindness,
Pessimism settles in the soul when you realize the greatness and fragility.
Like a shattered myth, you understand that no one is truly perfect,
Those who seem to have it all under control play a well-chosen and select role.
You stop expecting dreamlike friendships, seeking only a few sincere and real ones,
And you understand that it's enough to tie your soul to loyal people.
Perchance blank sheets had choice,
they’d refuse the stain of ink.
Yet ink delights in spoiling emptiness,
like palm-oil staining white cloth.
That defiance—
to create and keep records,
to write poems for posterity—
perhaps, or perhaps not,
like smoke beneath a cover,
escaping what time cannot cage.
Sometimes poems sing into thin air,
with no eardrum to soothe.
Other times they endure the test of time,
speaking as soliloquy to the unborn,
through wisdom and well-chosen words—
like echoes billowing through valleys.
Few then recall the ink
that shaped such classics,
long dried and discarded,
like footprints blurred by rain.
It is the paper that blows the kisses,
absorbs the tears,
and wears the credits given.
So paper may delight,
while ink grows dispirited.
For obscurity never veils real visions—
a passing cloud misguides the senses
from knowing who holds true honour.
So paper may rejoice,
and ink fall into silence.
Yet vision does not drown in shadows—
like sunlight veiled by dust,
truth will still gleam through,
to honour ink that turns blankness to beauty.
Botticelli takes a warm bath.
Springtime in arcadia,
The Grace chicks are a threesome.
I tend to ignore the other stuff that's going on.
For triplets
they each have their subtle differences
The girls are demure,
yet they seem to be hoofing a sexy gavotte.
We need a Maypole,
I guess the Italians outnumber the English
in Elysium.
They are as soft as a pillow dream.
I wonder if they ever pillow fight -
a pajamaed affair designed
to arouse Pan and all his
goat faced minions.
It's lambing time
and the ladies
are bouncing merrily.
One day I might take note
of what else is happening
in the painting,
pull it all together
with a few well-chosen observations.
Probably, even then
there will be some odd twigs,
or bendable twists of green
I can't weave together,
no matter how hard I try.
RESONANCE
Small words can always mean a lot
Whether they’re well chosen or not
Like items on a market stall
Believe me, resonance is all
Inspiration fits like a glove
When verses are expressing love
But sometimes it’s like bitter gall
Believe me, resonance is all
A word may just cause a schism
All beats have a certain rhythm
Like echoes in an empty hall
Believe me, resonance is all
When awareness has arisen
All that matters is to listen
Get the message and heed the call
Believe me, resonance is all
A Kiss In The Dark
You light up in the darkness
With the Heaven woven stars
In velvet tones of stillness
I calmly watch; night is ours.
Chill wind swirled rhythmic chanting,
Cocoon those well-chosen words,
Pleasing closeness, enchanting
A taste of natural bloom.
Closed eyes met a world of dreams
amorous scene into dance
A kiss in the limpid dark.
Warm silence serenaded.
The charm of a well written love poem
Can actually bring one to tears
Well chosen words conveying your feelings
Of love but also your fears
Fears that a loving romance will fade
And become so very routine
To keep love alive must remember each day
Show her how much her love means
Show her by all the small things that count
That prove she's a special lady
The one you've chosen to be with forever
No ifs, no ands, and no maybes
Amazing how they keep the fire burning
Small things that mean so much
Things that may seem unimportant to some
As simple as a gentle touch
Don't get me wrong, I'm surely no expert
When it comes to the secret to fidelity
But after many years of studying about love
These things are written indelibly
The charm of a well written love poem
Can actually bring one to tears
Chosen words that promise love forever
Through all of the coming years
Never sacrifice meaning for a rhyme.
Hmm, I think that chicken could use some thyme.
Check the connotation, not just the sound.
A carefully chosen word is a hound.
Ev'ry stick you throw will come back to you
My next trip is the Andes of Peru.
Whether a trip to a sister's funeral in Chicago;
Or another trip to Los Angeles for my aunt's funeral;
Or a slow ride to a family reunion in Chicago;
Or a 'Bucket-list' trip to an NFL game in Kansas City;
Yes. It seemed that most rails I took led to Chicago.
It's true. Several times we never left on a jet plane.
There were some great train rides, long and slow.
There were five time-consuming and memorable rides,
Sharing a dinner table with a mother and child;
Or a conversation with two unforgettable strangers.
The Great Salt Lake and breath-taking sceneries,
Including dark rides through narrow tunnels;
Roadside stops in small American towns; Great
Views of the Colorado River, and lots of friendly
Waves from a passenger train called The California Zephyr.
The California Zephyr is a well-chosen and defined name for
a train that served us well. Indeed, it was like a gentle wind
blowing from west to east. There were 58 treasured hours
spent alone with my lovely spouse as we ate enough almonds
for a lifetime and some very expensive snacks.
Disarmed
Bullets fall silent
against words
well chosen
Their caliber
muted
— the target on fire
(Villanova University: March, 2024)
Stuck In Gear
Motion
not an absolute
The world
is never still
Inertia
tries to write the law
Where stop and start
are nil
History
at the speed of light
Consensus
in the math
But standing
here
While stuck in gear
— the notion leaves me flat
(Villanova University: March, 2024)
Before The After
Don’t bog down
in research
Spontaneity
the thing
Truth
is most elusive
And joy
a passing Spring
In flashes
of an instant
What’s timeless
will appear
Thinking often
kills the goose
That lays
— both far and near
(Villanova University: March, 2024)
Deafening Silence
Things most often named
before understood
Then never renamed
for the bad or the good
‘Particles of light’
we now know as waves
But ad infinitum
their reference stays
A ‘Tablet of Paper’
consisting of sheets
Two ‘Bolts’ of lightning
fused Franklin’s belief
A ‘Softball’s’ still deadly
meant to careen
And ‘Deafening Silence’
— spurs wonder indeed
(Villanova University: March, 2024)
The charm of a well written love poem
Can actually bring one to tears
Well chosen words conveying your feelings
Of love but also your fears
Fears that a loving romance will fade
And become so very routine
To keep love alive must remember each day
Show her how much her love means
Show her by all the small things that count
That prove she's a special lady
The one you've chosen to be with forever
No ifs, no ands, and no maybes
Amazing how they keep the fire burning
Small things that mean so much
Things that may seem unimportant to some
As simple as a gentle touch
Don't get me wrong, I'm surely no expert
When it comes to the secret to fidelity
But after many years of studying about love
These things are written indelibly
The charm of a well written love poem
Can actually bring one to tears
Chosen words that promise love forever
Through all of the coming years
It’s wonderful and rare to laugh
Or smile for two hours straight.
It happens when you get to see
A comic who’s first-rate.
Last night we joined the audience
At New York’s famed Town Hall,
Amid the crowd of fervent fans
Who follow Robyn Schall.
Her comedy is special
And to everyone appeals,
As the funny stories of her life
She jokingly reveals.
By interacting with the crowd,
All thrilled to thus engage,
She extends the warmest welcome,
Calling some up to the stage.
With a few well-chosen videos
Security* provides,
We are treated to an inner self
That Robyn never hides.
For full disclosure, Robyn is
The daughter of dear friends,
Yet seeing her perform
My fair and square self recommends.
We all need laughter as the world
Gets grimmer every day.
“The Robyn Schall Experience”
Makes all that go away.
*Security is what Robyn calls her brother
Richie, who helps with her shows.
The charm of a well written love poem
Can actually bring one to tears
Well chosen words conveying your feelings
Of love but also your fears
Fears that a loving romance will fade
And become so very routine
To keep love alive must remember each day
Show her how much her love means
Show her by all the small things that count
That prove she's a special lady
The one you've chosen to be with forever
No ifs, no ands, and no maybes
Amazing how they keep the fire burning
Small things that mean so much
Things that may seem unimportant to some
As simple as a gentle touch
Don't get me wrong, I'm surely no expert
When it comes to the secret to fidelity
But after many years of studying about love
These things are written indelibly
The charm of a well written love poem
Can actually bring one to tears
Chosen words that promise love forever
Through all of the coming years
Poetry explores feelings felt by you,
whereas compatible hopes are compared.
And well-chosen words pave pathways anew
as dreams and experiences are shared.
Whereas compatible thoughts get compared,
poetry is a means of connecting.
As dreams and experiences are shared,
your heart gains more than you were expecting.
Poetry is a means of connecting;
viewing reality through open eyes.
Your heart gains more than you were expecting;
your talent comes as a pleasant surprise.
Viewing reality through open eyes;
poetry sheds light on what's in the dark.
Your talent comes as a pleasant surprise,
igniting embers with a sentient spark.
Poetry sheds light on what's in the dark,
and well-chosen words pave pathways anew.
Igniting embers with a sentient spark,
poetry explores feelings felt by you.
Giant poet gem, Tagore’s story-poem: NISKRITI,
Is a piazza perched paved and perfectly paced beauty;
Scale model of a castle of vast poetic kingdom,
That has spread into an empire of Indian wisdom!
Manjulika is a dew-drop in the mighty ocean,
Of the land of Bay of Bengal where feminine gender;
Fulfills wants of men as mother, wife, daughter and labors,
Less fulfilled of subtle cravings, in her heart she harbors!
Nucleus firm; Malabika has solemnly sung it,
Narration, like roots, stems, leafs, flowers, fruits of plants well-knit!
Images complex extract emotions, expose like day light,
Questions of destiny hang, like stars in dense dark sky, bright!
Figures of speech, like hand-picked coffee-seeds, well chosen,
And like gems and pearls in an ornament, fairly woven;
With stones of words and verses flat, oval, blunt, round, pear, square,
The edifice erected here is stern, solemn and somber!
05 December 2021
Inspired By A Translation Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Malabika Ray Choudhury
Love has died, but I still try,
A bitter sweet love leaves a sting inside.
Your reasons for leaving were plenty,
As for me, I had so many.
You gave me beautiful roses of red,
Love hidden behind their meanings misled.
Sharp thorns have made me realize,
That a gift can come with a painful price.
My wounded heart it still beats,
It needs to have faith when it seeks.
When new love is found my heart will heal,
But his rose's thorns they attempt to kill.
In pain while holding them tight I bleed,
My heart is once again unsheathed.
Well-chosen tears falling from my eyes,
This time I wont let my roses die.
Vickie Hurtt-Thayer
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