amanyu t thulasi

Rookie - 0 Points (21-7-1994 / kalpakkam)

Sanguine Notes: – Rise And Fall - Poem by amanyu t thulasi

Sanguine Notes: – Rise and Fall

Awaiting perch’d on high boughs steep,
Are vultures fain for sanguine deep,
And gory corpses, manly flesh.
They spy men dead and dying fresh.
Lo! Dawn’d have brutes to forget their
Such long forbearing wait so yare,
For such a day of manly fingers,
Free, unbound, as free will lingers.
Down thunder, storm, deluge berserk,
As quakes and downpours so do lurk,
The planet even ‘vinces scorn,
For manly conduct, worn and torn.

Hark, news will bruit, not far, someday,
And earthly beasts will teach in fray,
Their brood and blood of a haughty race,
The vain of which thaw’d had it unto haze-
“Such man that knew not what man meant,
Such man that bode for self merriment,
Such man that cared not of his blood,
Did walk this earth, this sand and mud.
Ergo such rain has teem’d with dins,
That sands be absolved of thick sins.
Daylight has gored clouds at misty heights,
And man evanesced from our sights.”

O Hark ye men! May man love man,
Why swish swords in such short a span.
Each man stands string of witching lyre,
To strum the song of life, its fire.
Each one a spoke of wainly wheel,
Aforth each being’s delight and weal.
Each being a link ‘f the eternal chain,
Abinding rise and fall, and gain.
Each form a leaf of a yawning tome,
Of a ceaseless, eternal living poem.
When each one holds in witch’s brew,
And knowest thy this, sourly rue.

When knoweth man that frame swathes soul,
And has no mighty, so deemed role,
Nor sight nor sound will cleave and grip,
To skin or flesh or lung or lip,
But straight will stab right into the heart.
Then will stop teeming drops tart,
And then it rains, within and out.
‘Adieu to vile thoughts’, a tranquil shout.
As rains have slobber’d hefty haze,
Crisp daylight gleams a freshly gaze,
And balmy zephyrs gently blow,
And heal each gash which brightly glow.

O, Humans Hark!
No rain such black as night will pelt,
Nor ice to littoral high melt,
No gore gray green will ever spill,
Nor swords will swish, nor ransoms fill,
When museth man of imps to come-
Their limpid een and a modicum,
Of freakish, chaste, cadenceless cry,
Their chubby cheeks and ebony eye,
And limbs as plump as dovish breast,
And snub a nose, unhirsute crest,
And griefeth, guilty, all turns wan,
When knoweth man that man is man.


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Poem Submitted: Saturday, December 4, 2010

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