"Wake within the Rose Wilderness,"
with the sky of pinks as this day closes.
"I beseech the sun to undress the stars,"
as the moon comes over the crest.
"If I am your refrain, let my name burn,"
in the morning light as the sun climbs out of bed.
"Tortured by the taste of Touch,"
today will the hot sun burn me once more?
"What is a ripple without its rhythm?"
Like the daily sun without the nightly moon.
Isn’t it really what we become together?
Separating souls, not nearly the answer.
Feathers, free falling, caught in angelic sight.
Shall we try again? We don’t learn to fly
in our youth; before we die? Try
and try again to catch ourselves. The best
is yet to be. Can we help but steady?
Are we worth it? God certainly thinks so.
Sow those seeds of love, joy and peace.
They don’t come easy. We do get hurt.
But as we heal, aren’t we stronger? We fight
for our completeness. Don’t stop short.
A broken vase, not like Humpty Dumpty,
put together again. The crevices are
those golden years. Weren’t they all grand,
not in and of themselves, but for the shining
light in the halls of heaven. The Word
of God says that a three-stranded cord
is not easily broken, therefore The Most High
must not be omitted; we cannot fly on our own.
You be my sunshine, and I'll be your blue, together by choice, not held by glue.
Sunshine brings shadow, and shadow brings blue,
yet neither is hated; both are true.
Yellow and blue, when we collide,
we don't vanish, we don't hide.
We make green, of leaf and life,
like finger paints at the age of five.
So let me be the shadow
that knows you, yet completes you.
You are red sun in my gray cloudy sky
Cheering me on despite blues in life
I look up and see your beautiful light
From gold glowing soul such a delight
As white wind beneath my brown wing
You carry cranberry heart love inspiring
Your yellow whimsical smile like spring
Give rise to sapphire songbirds that sing
You are as sweet as sap from green tree
Lime cure your laugh defeats melancholy
Moonlight carves path from Black Sea
That is teal tragic past rebirth’s dream
Your heart is a love flower warm opening
Even in rain shower you power positivity
I can look at you for hours inhaling peace
You empower what nectar is to a bee
Human! You’ll never guess what!
Something I’ve recently caught,
placed on your quivering knees.
Do with it just as you please!
Smell it—the mauled bloody flesh,
gifted to you—sweet and fresh.
Look at you, screaming so loud!
Trust me, I’d also be proud.
Think of me, little but still
willing to maim and to kill
only for you, and above
all, feel the strength of my love!
We celebrate holidays,
Or we do not,
For personal reasons.
(That’s all that we’ve got.)
To some, it’s religion
That drives them to pray,
While others like following
Customs that they
Have observed since their childhoods.
For me, that’s the case
And certain traditions
I like to embrace.
To honor connections
With those in the past,
I’ll light special candles;
Tomorrow, I’ll fast.
The only true lesson
To me, on this eve,
Is it’s nobody’s business
What we each believe.
In red, she saunters
Through a field of red poppies:
What a lovely view!
~ Poetictouch
I screamed until my throat tore -
"You're hurting me! Please, let me go!"
And you stood there, vacant,
gazing at me with a soft, baffled innocence.,
because you couldnt see the violence of your hands.
You wouldn't see it.
Instead, you looked down at my bleeding body,
shook your head in quiet disappointment,
and whispered,
"Look what you made me do."
Young Bobby slipped into his sister’s room
one night when she was at her boyfriend’s house.
She’d caught him rifling through her stuff before.
To put it mildly, Jessie was not kind.
This time, he’d put each item back in place!
Oh, boy! At last, he found her diary!
He read each page and found some shocking facts!
His eyes were big as saucers as he learned
his sis and all her friends had done some things
they’d never tell their moms and dads about.
He found he couldn’t put this treasure down.
He started finding entries about—HIM:
“The little creep has been in here again.
He messes with my stuff, and he’s too dumb
to put things back in place! I’ll catch him soon!”
“I know some stuff on him he’d never tell
our parents, so I have some leverage.
I just may tell them—” Then he realized
the last page of the diary was missing.
He put the “treasure” back and fled the scene.
________________________
These two pieces captures the soaring arrogance, profound pride, and fiery confidence that characterize some poets’ iconic style. Amrit Ghayal (the first quatrain) was legendary for his fierce, larger-than-life poetic persona, and this specific quatrain perfectly showcases the sheer power he attributed to the poet's pen. The second quatrain, a part of free translation, adds to what he said in the first.
_____________________
For nectar of life fend I can,
Vie with Death’s hands--- defend I can.
My song of life a life-giver,
I pen, make dead stones stand I can.
With fire of ink, life blend I can,
The decrees of Fate bend I can.
Though time erases empires vast,
The history’s lease end I can.
_______________________
Reflections | 25.09.2026| death, life, poet, song, Quatrain
Note: The first quatrain is a free translation of a Gujarati Piece by Amrit Ghayal as under:
Amrit thi hoth aentha kari shakuñ chuñ,
Mrityu na hath palmañ hetha kari shakuñ chuñ.
A mari shayari ae sanjivani che, Ghayal,
Shayar chuñ paliya ne betha kari shakuñ chuñ.
We live and love, then pass away.
Memories of us linger on
inside the hearts of those who stay.
We live and love, then pass away.
We leave behind our DNA
and to our heirs – a brand new dawn.
We live and love, then pass away.
Memories of us linger on
We must not drink or eat
Absolutely nothing to drink or eat, I repeat
Forget sex, there’s no holding hands
Even a peck on the cheek is banned
As for washing, bathing, or showering
Maybe a maybe, if one's odor is overpowering
All of this, and Yom Kippur is called a holiday
~ Easy to see why the whole day in synagogue we pray!
Of nectar, I never sing.
I only beat my wings.
As long as I'm alive,
I gather nectar for the hive.
I toil for a bountiful nectar crop.
I work until I drop.
So the colony will thrive,
I do it for the hive.
Lo, I hear something strange.
My brain begins to change.
It is a flower's voice.
She tells me I have choice.
I never lived until
I discovered I have free will.
Now, in nectar, I rejoice,
knowing I have choice.
The Robots are here, with more every day
to mimic our actions in work and play.
They're programmed to help in all that we do
and serve with allegiance, steadfast and true.
As time goes by, increasing their score
with added AI, their "brains" do much more!
Expressions will change as eyes flash, beware;
belligerent smiles strip away care.
Intelligence shows a semblance of thought;
programmers express, “what have we wrought!”
Compared to old days of witchcraft fear-
new era of Robots- lord keep us clear.
Those Witches of folklore, evil or not-
won't match the terror of what we begot.
Do with this what you will
Regardless of how it makes you feel.
I was given a scroll, treasured and sealed.
I received it from an elderly man name Bill.
I do not know the magnitude of its appeal.
Nor was I told about the contents inside.
Very seriously, Bill said to me before he died;
The truth we must cease to deny and hide.
We must implement and not set it aside.
The truths behind the seal can heal our lives.
So, do with this what you will
Regardless of how it makes you feel.
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