—A Sonnet of Departing Eyes—
When thou wert gone, the populous world rang,
yet all its clamour fell beyond my ear;
the brazen noon beneath its burden sang,
while silence gathered where thou wert not near.
When I praised thy laughter, flowers raised their flame
And bent towards the wind, enquiring of thy name;
their petals searched the road thy footsteps crossed,
as though each bloom could read the shape of loss.
Then once thou turnedst back, and from my breast
my breath withdrew before thy departing eyes;
again thou lookedst—and the earth, possessed,
seemed tinder strewn beneath the waiting skies.
I would have burned the world to make thee stay—
but it remained the world, and thou wert away.
I have always had my own voice
but my peers chose not to listen
Instead they negged and bullied
or overlooked to support others
But now that my voice is freed
they all scramble to give credit
Or praise that I did not ask for
even though it's long overdue
It feels bitter and purely untrue
which is why their new compliments
do not mean anything at all to me
These people are all just echoes
seeking my attention in the void
but I don't hate any of them at all
I just view them as mere shades
appearing on an empty, dimmed screen
Holding their hands out to reach me
but I refuse to listen to them now
It's my turn to tune out their speech
in favor of the peaceful silence
That my arts and crafts have given me.
Note: I wasn't comfortable mentioning it at the time and I probably should have, but this is a poem about the incels who are fake-nice. It was inspired by my short time in an online video game community where myself and other women gamers were targeted. It was an awful experience none of us deserved to go through. I kinda socially withdrew for a bit after that happened, honestly.
Before the first tongue
suffered the burden of naming,
the garden possessed
its own onomasticon:
Leaf,
Lumen,
Lark,
and one white rose—
an inviolate effulgence
ensphered in dew.
No creature
contested its quietude.
The bee
Received.
The wind,
that elder philologer,
declined dominion.
Only the hand,
catechised by appetite,
confounded wonder
with warrant.
Then
the stem vouchsafed
its green apostrophes.
One thorn
solicited blood
before blood
solicited speech.
Yet the blossom
Withdrew
no redolence.
Its whiteness,
anamnetic of snowfall,
absolved the very air
that coveted it.
Only at vespers
did the ordinance
become legible:
the thorn
was never
the flower's severity,
but sanctity
Assuming
the grammar of sap—
Creation's final rubric,
lest beatitude,
Misparsed
as possession,
translate Eden
into rubble.
—The Blade of Grass—
I sought no empyrean throne beyond the wheeling blue,
But found one adamantine dewdrop trembling in the grass.
It did not scintillate.
It beheld me.
Then every pinion became articulate flame;
The raven's augury, the blackbird's argent hymn,
Were borne upon one unoriginate Breath I could not name.
I watched the lion heave the primordial wind,
The lamb receive its inviolate ordinance.
Neither litigated Eternity.
Rain descended remembering firmament.
The brook relinquished its mountain,
Yet bore its genesis.
Then desolation entered.
No seraph sundered the stillness.
One mortal hand entered mine.
Its benignity outshone
The constellated treasury of heaven.
That night the firmament exhaled one eternal Breath.
The stars did not descend.
The earth ascended.
The adamantine dewdrop withdrew from the blade of grass.
Since then—
Wherever aught lives—
Or abides—
I have never again encountered a universe bereft of God.
Great sunrise this morning
This time I was able to snag
A few rays, put them in my
Upper shirt pocket, to carry
About. Right off, a driver
Cut me off...reached in, withdrew
And smiled. Boss canceled
My day off – a rush job that
Had to be completed, I withdrew
Another. By the end of the day
They were all gone – Ah, moon-
Light, another opportunity! We
Met~ and the night beamed!
I am gathering up my broken hearts,
The scattered pieces, the torn-apart.
I gave them away with an open hand,
To those who could never understand.
I thought they were treasures, precious and true,
But they were just moments that quickly withdrew,
Swept to the side at the end of the day,
Left to ruin, thrown away.
But the hands that gave them can bring them home,
No longer left in the cold alone.
I’m picking them up from where they fell,
With stories only the scars can tell—
Of a heart reclaimed, of a spirit grown,
Never again to be carelessly thrown.
They are mine to keep, they are mine to mend,
Where the ruin stops, and the healing begins.
The abyss lost its shadowed harm,
When I invited it in for tea.
The stars stopped blinking their alarm,
In the darkness den that frightened me.
No maps within the void showed where to go.
No instructions explained my plight.
Light through the cracks began to flow,
When the bliss of ignorance caught alight.
The void asked questions without end.
Its silent answers stripped me to the bone;
Till meaning learned at last how to mend
The things I could not handle alone.
The cosmos gave no grand decree to construe,
No fixed design, no certainty to avoid.
My fear of mystery now gone, I withdrew to
Embrace the void!
Not for shortage of stones did Stone Age end,
How a Saudi minister chose to fend
For Oil Age in some rage,
And yet, causing shortage,
Trump sure would render it a helping hand.
______________________________________
Happenings | 05.04.2026 | completion, humour, political, limerick
Note: In a game of cartels versus competition and self-interest, when UAE withdrew from OPEC cartel, a Saudi minister reacted as shown in this ditty. UAE’s decision is not altruistic in favour of completion, in larger good of the world still. Yet alas, cartels and self-interest are common all over the world—overt or covert.
He asked to see the sunset one more time
Before the vesper bells that evening chime.
She opened wide the window facing West
Then propped him up…his ultimate request;
His eyes lit up then closed, and he lay still
The fading sun withdrew behind the hill.
A peanut butter cup smooth and sly
Said, “I’m tiny, I barely apply.”
But one quiet chew
And the ceiling withdrew
Leaving you waving back at the sky
52.
My 9th Leaf
Got thee from small vase
Old décor replace
Host plant of 1st Leaf
Thrown away no grief
Diff'rent “fortune” plant
Planted by father
Installed there after
I was there when placed
A little so fazed
First leaf's host no more
Third day October
Sunset was nearer
While feeling not well
I'm under cold spell
Drinking I fruit juice
Just inside our house
Living room, oh browse
On vase first leaf was
‘Lil water still has
Buddhas adjacent
Simple day only
Not planned – truthfully
Just went to Passi
Withdrew some money
Wilted 1st Leaf host.
-10/03/2011
(Dumarao)
*My Toladas Collection
The Cord decided—Suddenly—
The Sky withdrew its Sound—
A sharp Arithmetic of Air
Was finished—then unbound—
The Body paused—to take a step
The Soul declined the Floor—
A click—no louder than a Thought—
Undid the World below—
The Neck—forgot its errand—
The Blood mislaid its Rule—
Gravity—remembered me—
And rang the Bell--quite True—
Not Pain—so much as Interval—
Between the Now—and Then—
A Silence—fastened round the Throat—
Where Breath had always been—
And I—was lifted from the Weight--
Of Flesh’s brief Command—
As if my Name—had slipped its Thread
From God’s own careful Hand—
Here comes his ghost again, clutching old fears
Haunting me while I strive for sleep
His guitar lullaby still rings in my ears
The cadence’s grip on my soul to keep
I sense his energy and start to cry
His sadness weighs heavy on my heart
He creeps into my thoughts as rest looms nigh
This ache inside deeply tears me apart
In the hush of darkness he lurks unseen
A phantom of my grief that has no resolution
Awake or dreaming, perhaps somewhere in between
I seek meaning while suffering in shadows of seclusion
He spooks me by his lack of empathy
His coldness sends a shiver down my spine
This incessant ghosting won’t set me free
Possessing all matter in this space of mine
He’s hiding, but watches with curiosity
My realm holds boundaries that terrify him
He manipulates my sensitivity with muffled atrocity
In his company I share a misery so dim
His ghost is covert and mute of reflection or care
A stark apparition I’ve always seen right through
His kiss disappears as a lost whisp of air
Carrying my spirit that perished as he withdrew
You fasted me
not with cruelty,
but with absence.
Our conversations became measured portions,
carefully rationed silences,
until even my name
felt too heavy to serve.
Once, words flowed without counting—
laughter spilling past midnight,
questions lingering like warm hands.
Now I sit with echoes,
taught to swallow pauses
instead of replies.
You withdrew with discipline,
as if I were indulgence,
as if closeness required restraint.
No argument, no farewell—
only the sudden practice
of less.
And I was left drying in the quiet,
wondering when affection
became excess,
when presence turned into something
to be limited for safety.
You did not starve me of food,
but of being known.
And that hunger—
that one learns slowly,
alone.
The moon cast shadows down the hill
The stars shuddered the night was still
Even the breeze cared make no sound
The still lake mirrored heavens bound
She walked mimicking the moonlight
In moonbeams strode past my mazed sight
Beauty vexing the ageless stars
Healing a heart laid rough with scars
But in her passing chances waste
Dumbstruck and stilled; I made no haste
To make approach, or call out to
Her light dimmed, her moonbeams withdrew
The hillside awoke with wonder
In the distance cracks of thunder
The trees spake in rustles the brakes
The lake awoke in rolling wakes
Not only was my bruised heart healed
Her passing woke the sleeping field
Though I saw, it was all in vein
My lips would not part, nor words feign
All the hillside seemed suffer strange
What sorcery has such a range
What heavenly beauty we’ve seen
Could this be the goddess Selene?
No other glean could I thus make
No wiser part of me could shake
The deep found knowing of this truth
My heart and eyes as in their youth
The day may come, but hold the night
Within me glows the breathless sight
As all the hillside bore with me
Captivated by her beauty
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