! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! Impermanence! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Am no poet, so I may sound trifle prosaic.
Had lessons in classical music, oh, so archaic
She stood with her slender hands on her slim hips,
Smoldering eyes, a smirk on her lightly painted lips.
I remember, you taught me to be honest.
So let me finish, before you comment.
Let it be clear, now my family comes first
Make no demands, when you are sick or hurt.
Nuggets Of Wisdom - On Impermanence
Who can resist the strangulating grip of time?
That which exists today is not there tomorrow
Like shooting stars which vanish in the flicker of an eye
Life comes and goes quicker than a speeding arrow
When someone dear dies and our heart bleeds
And pours our anguish of wordless grief
Remember everything has to eventually die
Like bubbles bursting in a matter of time brief
I Read The Poems Of Tagore For You
I read the poems of Tagore for you
I read the poems of Tagore for you
to calm the fevers and the chills,
but nothing took away the awful ache
and the sorrow that shook our bones,
We sat like two little children,
and watching the fire
looking for some comfort
The Height Of Land
Here is the height of land:
The watershed on either hand
Goes down to Hudson Bay
Or Lake Superior;
The stars are up, and far away
The wind sounds in the wood, wearier
Than the long Ojibwa cadence
In which Potàn the Wise
Declares the ills of life
And Chees-que-ne-ne makes a mournful sound
S P A C E
is a problem unlike your never-ending
paper or the maddening blankness of
your word processor where you can go on
and on in anguish or insanity or boredom
on one-hundred-and-seven degree Fahrenheit afternoons.
(To write the next lines you need to take
the green&goldbrown duster to rub off these eight)
Colour is another confusion you want
No seed that's on the earth ground
It's tree now, offering the shadow
And life of sound
No green leaves there are
It's yellow to withered
And blow away far
My forefathers, many of them
Now hanging on the photo frame
LESBIA'S daughter, I shall tell no lie,
Here's no fit amber for such a dainty fly.
Let them embalm your beauty whoso can
In boastful odes, I'm a more honest man.
Lovers' abodes with poets' words are paved,
But prudent girls would get those vows engraved,
For brass than paper being something stronger
May last, it's more than like, a fortnight longer.
Where's the fine music that the fossil men
Of lost Lemuria brandished on a pen?
To The Goddess
Goddess, I come to you
my neck wreathed with rosebuds,
my head filled with visions of infants,
my palms open to your silver nails,
my eyes open to your rays of illumination,
my vagina & my womb gaping
to be filled by your radiance. . .
O goddess, I would be a worthy vessel.
Impermanence- all is impermanence.
Time A Continuous Dream
Time a continuous dream-
Watch its workings in every being.
Like a dream I left my mother-father
For a new life beyond imagination farther.
Next time I went to visit my home
A big smile on mother's face was donned.
The joy vibrated from every vein
The dilapidated atheist sat
Fondling his smoky beard
Eyes myopic, looks haggard
Laboring with tons of knowledge
That loaded his swollen head
Case of intellectual encephalitis
A sign-board on his desk read
'There is no God' - the goddamned word
Again and again
I am reminded
of that word
the buddhists love,
a word we shudder from
we are all dying-
but it seems
you got to be really dying
One Life, one Fate, one Love…
That one-time, ravishing, sudden love,
peeling the layers of years lived
in apathy, —finally reaching your soul;
Times, when you were anonymous
to yourself, walking hollow and weary
in the penumbra of your life;
And that one-time love, thrown
at the mercy of Fate to decide its lasting;
Love Is The True Essence Of Life [ 2 Tanka ]
Of life is tempered by love
By its constancy
By its eternality
By its enduring nature
Love lives and persists
So long as the heart still feels
When it can still be touched
By the sublimity of life
Paradise: A Sonnet
I've visited a paradise or two,
or made them, with a few brave, kindred souls.
But something always seemed to go askew;
each house of Vision's brick was pocked with holes.
I could not make the walls so dense to keep
impermanence or discontent away.
The only seeds I had, and sowed, would reap
a mixed and blemished crop that did not pay,
Be it an act, or a thing, or a being,
the beginning of what ever that matters
finds way forward, towards the end, destined.
Anything ends, likewise, commences a process,
directed towards the beginning of something different.
Life, most concerned, is all such processes engulfed in between.
Lessons Of The Leaves
Isn't it funny how light changes our perception?
How dull rust leaves transform into crystal claret
When a beam of light finds its way to them -
Catching our eye as they seem to come alive?
Standing in the river valley at dawn
Before the light has crawled over the edge
Of the ridge of bareheaded mountains to the east
Everything seems dead, or at least dormant.
strike a chord in us
and stay with us
even if we don't know why.
'The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls'
was the first poem
that this happened to me—
the image of those footprints
May 2017's Showcase For Poemhunter Poets....[ A Mix Of This And That; 30 Or So Poems By 30 Or So Poets All On One (1) Page! ]
I'm typing on a 'tablet', so Bri may soon be shouting.
If 'it' acts as it does at times, I also may be pouting!
April's showcase I hope.....found one or two new friends.
My goal: 'To allow you access, with few twists and bends'.
One poem per month by mostly 'PH FRIENDS; each not 'too' long.
Some of them are even suitable as lyrics, to AN engaging song.
Once my/our showcase is halfway full, I'll send to some of you.
But if YOU 'just can't wait', a search for 'May 2017's' will Do!
I bought it, for me, out of my money
And it is mine; no one else can claim rights
Except my own-self.
Me, my, mine, and myself all orbit around I
Entailing the whole lot within one entity!
Can not be without them, we feel, don’t we?
But the question is, who is this I?
One may show I, touching one’s own body
Love's ashes blown
By the wind of time;
Consumed in flames,
Now, —chastity her senses.
She lies in apathy,
Cold-shivered, and so empty…
In tears and sighs,
Her yearning heart
‘To burst again in tongues of fire—