Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Thursday Rally poetry collection week 39

Dear Thursday Rally followers, thank you for supporting us and this week, week 39.

It was a delight to collect so many talented poems and explore words and feelings coming from all over the world, strangers we may all be, but in this event, hosted by Jingle and Thursday Rally team, we have common cause, to enjoy poetry. 

I am Blaga and I offer you the collection of poems from week 39. 
I hope to see you all again in week 40 / March 24-30/. Have fun reading!

I am here at the altar,
I beseech You for an answer,
I saw you wandering in the dark,
and running seamless in a streak of light,
I saw you singing at a shrine,
I saw you crying at a funeral of a loved one,
I saw you angered by the mob that chased you and
the kids that poked you with a stick because you
were homeless and dirty, you were crazy they said,
I saw you praying in synagogue, I saw you kneeling in a church,
I saw you in a mosque, I could say you were at home,
I say you raging in the waters and thundering in the clouds,
I saw you red, I saw you green, I saw you in the rainbow,
And on the palete of an artist, wanting to be painted,
Yearning to be seen,
I saw you in wisdom of the old man’s whisper,
and in the follies of the youth that sees nothing but his dreams,
I looked around and I saw you, I closed my eyes and I saw you,
I looked at me and I saw you,
I saw you as I saw me,
I was wondering if you could tell,
All this while,
had I been looking for myself?!


Captured now, that little mouse
He had once tormented the house
Yet the brave fellow still tried
In an instant, the bell he had tied
Other mice couldn’t be doused

In the house, they did run amok
Uncontrollable, that naughty flock
But the scared kitty still tried
To find where the mice did hide
Right behind the grandfather clock

Alerted by the bell, the mice ran
Chase and catch, a cat’s only plan
At sunset, was all said & done
Survive he did, the very last one
Hero mouse, now leader of a clan


I have a dream of fantasy,
I handled it with passion,
As my heart outgrows the fancy,
I had it out of my mission.
Now I can have peaceful sleep
so that my day is full of musical beep.
As if in eternity I have been,
I treasure the full blossom of my imagination,
Blue sky against fluffy clouds,
Rock and roll music with excited crowds.
Hillside with green grasses,
Pecan trees and poetic masses.


The rock on the wall
The clock on the road
Who bites into a roll
Fights in the war
The heart is the core
Of our eternal lore
Guts may be spoiled
Clouds on the board
Drawn to explore
The art to the core
What’s gone
Will be gone
What’s wrong
Will be questioned
The world writes its words
Just how it wants
Gives new meanings to words
Borders to be withdrawn
Promises to be short
Siblings to be shot
What’s more to be born
Among artists’ dying lot? 


She walks along ,
the cliffs in sight.
Surrendering herself
In sheer delight.

The ocean waves
show their might.
On this here moonless night. 

Thunder booms and lightning crashes.
Rain falls upon her lashes.
The wind whips off her sashes, on this here moonless night.

Arms raised high,
The time is nigh,
for her to try,
on this here
moonless night.


run                                                                        a similar gait to blank
.           letters. birds caged to the woods.
.           will make
.           ringlets accentuate
.                                                           my youth
.                                                           dirts eternal
.                                                           embrace pa used to say
.                                                           “if you have it”
.                                               like reaching for fingers in that cranberry pillowcase
.                                   inked lists of streets
.                                   papier-mâché             money no better than whine


Remember this? Remember that December?
Or perhaps it was September
Or November, don’t remember!
It was us and only us and no one else
But you and me
You were mine, right in my thoughts
You were the one and only love
Thought I was yours as much as
You were only mine
It was a dream, a living dream
This being near, this being close
You left and I was gone away
You took you and you left
The emptiness was felt and
Left me only pain and ache
I wept and wept and cried as I
Cried for just your love
You heard me or you didn’t
Or you didn’t want to hear
You left me and I saw you every
Night when skies were dark
I’d close my eyes and see you near
And see you close to me
You faded more and more each day
Yet you lingered more inside
But you’d left me and that left me
With one feeling; one of pain
Today though, things are different
I have found a you that feels
A you who’d love and show me
That love you never did!
A you that holds me tightly and
Who lets me hold them very near
A you who’s just as tiny
Just as sweet and playful too
I love this you that I have found
It’s awesome how we love and love
And when we do make love or more
It seems to me it’s you love!
It’s you whom I love so dearly
And who so dearly loves me more
It’s this you who I’ve found right now
It’s that you who I really love
It’s all good my lovely baby
Except for one tiny fact
The fact that this you that I’ve found right now
Isn’t really truly YOU!


It dawned on me the other night that I
was born by the water, thick brown
afterbirth of motherless Brooklyn and
a thousand thousand memories that
rush three armed and red eyed under bridge after bridge of
our midnights, I still see
myself when I stand on the Carroll St.
overpass, faint and shimmering after all these years
My spirit remains standing motionless and listening,
aching in awe with the
chalk between its fingers and a thousand thousand
memories that rush away with the fog horns and the
falling wind.
I often wonder why I do not write of the shore
why my working girl boots do not hang with the rest of the
helpless and disgrunted in protest over a
telephone pole why they navigate
the skewed cobblestones but can not see the braille meaning
from above, their collective symbolism as a
wavelette that crashes somewhere and caries in a baby bottle or
the fruitless tide.
And I have always been here, skirts bundled at my waist
on Bergen Hill wrestling with myself and freeedom and a
nameless blue eyed Dutch boy, longing to
run with the Canarsie and learning my place a
thousand thousand times and I
I have always been here, it pounds through my blood
like the last blooming thistle that
Sticks in Babylon’s side that calls to me from the
gravel border of a School Bus parking lot and
burns me with its wisdom and years and
nothing can stop us and nothing can touch us and
those who can’t taste our saltwater sweetness
can’t see us and the delicate Land-Locked wish
they could be us and everyone knows
where the current will lead us and
I was born by the water.


The bridge is not so long

I can come to you along

The cold is killing you and me

I can give you, myself, and me

The hurting reasons make me wait

I still love you with all my heart

The sweet memories never fade away

I wish eternal love and peace in our way.


I am scared
I am busy
I am nobody
I don’t matter
I will fail
I am not good enough…
Don’t wear your Iglasses
and make endless excuses
why you’re not honoring the gifts
that you have been blessed.
Please try at least, don’t resist
or better yet, use contact Sense.


As sleep embraces you,
Your tear-stained cheeks
Seem suddenly calm
Cradled in your dreams.

And I, the bystander,
Irreverent, unworthy,
Follow the silent moon beam
That shines through
As a whisper from God,
And I tremble…
Afraid to watch the muted shadows on your face,
Afraid to hear your slumber,
The rhythmic breathing with mine heart,
Afraid to love you.

I stand by helpless As you struggle with your pain.
Helpless to spare you the tears, the learning;
Could I but hold you close, Murmuring those soothing sounds
You heard within me once,
Help you through less brutal means to see the way…

But, I’m afraid to love you.
It may seem foolish to the world, incongruent with the times,
It may seem absurdly maudlin.

Your room is quiet now, But for your heartbeat
And the watchful moon beam.
I can now safely take your hand
Caress your face, kiss your eyes.
There is no one here to see us now,
No one to reproach my mood.
I am free to adore you now,
Free to love you, in your sleep.


holed up on the fourth floor
of a purposefully quiet
public cocoon
alone, but not lonely
walls of paper absorb the sound
of my footsteps
like i wasn't even there
and it feels good
i think i'm ready to be alone
to be the girl
buried in study
to accept that nobody's there to hold me
and to be okay without that comfort
i'm okay with my messenger bag
full of neurological scholarly articles
and computer cables
i'm okay with my superficial friendships
making people laugh
and nothing more
i'm okay being holed up in a library
discovering and distracting myself
into peace


In a mystical dream the other night
I stood before a mesmerizing sight
Maidens of beauty of different tones
Laid on stairs of ancient stones
Covered in rays of golden silk
Skin as soft as honey and milk
Pearls made of magic and light
Hang between breasts fully ripe
Amber and musk filled the air
Scent of lust to those who dare
Dazzled I was in my dream
Around me felt incredibly real
A shiver ran across my spine
As I felt a hand touching mine
A calming voice whispered to me
“Come along I’ll make you see”
“ A place where few of men have stepped”
“A love divine you’ve never felt”
 “Surrender your soul just for tonight”
“And I Promise you heaven at the temple of Aphrodite”


Oh! Exams start
Sad becomes the heart
Because study, study and no play
Just study all day

Bored of boring books
Their covers itself have tiring looks
Oh! How boring these exams are
Oh, please exams go away, go far

I won’t be able to come for a week or two
I have to go and study, unfortunately true
Now in a few days I will come
Happy to be back not glum!


His breath blew away the hair on my face,
I stared in surprise, scared, calm....but felt my heart race...
My hand in air.... confused… as I didn’t want to hold him,
He came even more close to kiss…A sin!

My eyes closed…scared and bewildered,
But he very well monitored…
A tear rolled down my cheek,
I couldn’t.... But my eyes did speak....

Felt the breeze on my face,
As also his hand went through my shirt in slow pace....
I shivered, but wasn’t cold,
His hunger grew, for me to hold…

My stomach twitched,
As his hand lingered....
The shiver grew,
As I gave up and surrendered....

The shirts came apart, as he threw them over the sack,
He struggled further on my back...
The restless hand unhooked the last piece
As he picked me up to take me under the sheets...

That tongue licked everywhere,
Tasting my every drop of sweat...
I gazed in pain and despair,
As his throne moved inside, defining a ruthless death...

With time I saw the feelings end,
The touch tearing me apart, I hate his scent...
Forgotten what innocence meant,
Now get a feeling... I was a rent…!!!


You say things are no longer same
Well, I am not the only one to change;
You appear to be in some pain to me
wonder why you think its better to hide it;
You still mean so much so special in my life
I just am at loss of words to express this time;
I wish I could break the wall you think there is
but since there is none, how do i still fight it ?


In all that’s within reach,
Distant may not be seen
In all that’s close beneath,
Distant remained unseen

Between the vast sky and deep ocean,
The distance between is no different with leaves on trees
Divide with a gap of a thin line drawn,
Perhaps that’s when unseen appears; unhidden

Hand in another,
Back to back many seated
Of what was seen and felt,
It is the differences that create the distance

At such the distance is,
Of it meant to remain; shall be
Just in those seconds when lightings strike,
A snap is all it takes for distance and distant to exist…


Stay…watch over me
Wait…I will not scare you like that again
Stay…I love you that much too
Wait…love, true love, makes all the difference
I am smiling now thanks to you
Stay…haunt these halls with your laughter
Wait…because I love you too
Stay…and let the sunlight hit your face
Wait…while that takes my breath away
I watch my steps only for you
Stay…I need to thank you for your words
Wait…with you I am much happier
Stay…I love you
Wait…I love you more
I love you more and more and more
Stay…aren’t you having fun?
Wait…I am enjoying your company
Stay…I know a sweet thing when I see it
Wait…you are so kind
I cannot resist you when you laugh
Stay…I miss you the minute you are gone
Wait…you do not bother me
Stay…I am not mad
Wait…I love you
I am wrapped around your finger
Stay…if it makes you feel better
Wait…No–I really do love you
Stay…the only reason I came back is you
Wait…I cannot help that you make me laugh
You better love me


A brighter look on sleepless night – Ina

Sometimes day has no signs of beginning
But a bird is already singing
It is dark, yet a lark tries a different song

Sometimes nights just are a few hours too long
And the birds have all gone for the season
In those nights with no end I just think of you
For it gives sleepless nights a good reason


In measured breaths she counts the waves
in ternary form, her fingers tap sarsen walls
with broken chords, she nearly caves
a-b-a, her confidence stalls

Warmth seeping from her limbs, she fears
ethereal whispers, caressing her doubt
with no concern of time or tears
they wait patiently for her to come out,
Soon, they hiss, you must decide
luminescence cast upon the sea
Chopin marches with rising tide,
inner voices howl at moon's perigee

She crashes ivories of imagined keys
her lover arrives with entourage, his arm
wrapped 'round a lady of mysteries,
the shrew intent to do them harm.

 She inhales each slight with every breath,
an icy volcano with lava bursts, twixt
dawn and dusk, there will be death
a woman scorned, her target fixed.

Her shadow blends, yet voice betrays
bel canto from depth's burning rage
sweetly she sings, with a far away gaze
discarded for a harpy, half her age.

With echoed scuffs, their steps belie
but in hasty vengeance, her slipper caught
her arms unfold as if to fly
her wicked scheme was all for naught
 with bitter lips, twas she who thus did die.


My first impression of the north woods town,
Was not one in which beauty was found,
Smoke rose from the pulp mills and rising dust,
Logging trucks bulging with logs, ready to bust,   
Surely that is what all tourists chance to see,
Or were my negative thoughts playing tricks on me,
It was early evening so I decided to stop for fuel,
Don’t get stranded without gas is my first rule,
And in the woods where fewer people were found,
Gas stations were rare, and at night were shut down,
While my pickup was filling I strolled inside,
Bought a coffee and some chips to ease the ride,
On my way out I glanced at a car pulling slowly in,
The driver was scowling, anger showing, no grin,
“Whatcha lookin’ at?” he snarled as he passed me by,
“You got some kind of problem? Should I black your eye?”
I hurried on past without stopping to converse,
I was on vacation, no reason to argue or worse,
Sipping a hot coffee and munching my chips,
Singing loudly to no one and enjoying my trip,
When the pickup sputtered, coughed and died,
I coasted to the edge of the steep mountainside,
I mused over my predicament, it was not to my liking,
I could stay all night there, or I could begin hiking,
Two logging trucks roared by, shaking my truck,
“If I stay here on the edge, I could just be out of luck,”
A car approached in the darkness and came to a stop,
The driver got out, it was the rude man from the shop,
He glared, “Hah,” he said, and on the ground spat,
“Serves you right for staring at people, and that is that,”
I started to protest but he was already on his way,
“I’m not going to let you ruin what’s left of this day,”
I hiked north along the road, hoping to find a town,
But several hours passed slowly with no one around,
A commotion in front of me, something in the road,
A deer, still alive, stunned and scared, towards it I strode,
I talked to it calmly, quietly, urging it to relax,
Amazingly the deer ceased kicking, and listened to facts,
With my heart in my throat, I checked out the deer,
“You’re going to be fine,” I said, “when you’re over your fear,”
I lifted and pulled as the deer struggled to its feet,
It looked at me for a moment, its recovery complete,
It stumbled and then bounded away into the night,
I was alone once more and feeling all right,
Dawn broke silently and quickly, the sun touching the trees,
I thought of the emptiness of my life, in varying degrees,
I caught myself, “I can’t let negative thoughts slip in,
Negative brings negative, lets the erosion begin,
I must think positive, for positive forces I need,
What can I do right now, that would be a good deed?”
I began picking up cans and paper lining the way,
“I’ll do this while I’m thinking of places to stay,”
Several times I heard footsteps in the forest nearby,
Yet when I stopped, only birds and wind caught my eye,
A car slowed, stopped, and seemed waiting for me,
It was the rude man with two others, now there were three,
They were carrying baseball bats and I felt a sudden chill,
I was the target they wanted, they were after a thrill,
“Whatcha lookin’ at?” he growled and for once had a grin,
“There’s no way to escape this group of men,”
Now this is where my story sounds confusing and surreal,
Out of the bushes shapes came hurtling, it didn’t seem real,
The three men were knocked down and thrown aside,
I started running, but there was no place to hide,
I ran, I jogged, I walked, exhausted but continuing on,
Trying to separate fact from fiction, all reason gone,
A pickup pulled alongside me, two men in hard hats,
Offered me a ride into town, and that was that,
A short conversation of which they could make no sense,
About positives being better whenever I’m tense,
I arranged for a tow truck to take me back,
We collected my pickup and I was again on track,
I saw the rude man’s car still waiting where he parked,
I wondered a moment where they had embarked,
There was too much I didn’t understand about this night,
Later on I would wonder how I came out all right.
(to be continued)


To dust, to ashes, the great hereafter
She bequeaths the current realm
With love, with light, with learning.
Review her 99 years.
It’s clear Sweet Dear
Was a guardian angel
Grandchildren born to teenage moms
Neighbors ~ recipients of alms
She gave her all, she had no qualms
About sharing and caring
And daring
To love those deemed unlovable
To feed those labeled not worthy
To calm the most combustible
See the light, overlook the tawdry.
To dust, to ashes, the great hereafter
She leaves the current realm
Her imprint
No less than profound.


As I look from high
What is it I spy
The silvery Birch
Climbs out of its perch
With Willow weeping
Down river sweeping
To the mighty Oak
His will to evoke.


One fish. Two fish.
If I could have any wish:

I’d fly to the moon
in a pastel balloon

while dining on knish.

I’d bring Thing 1 & Thing 2,
we’d sail off in a striped canoe,

I’d tip my tall hat,
lick my fur like a cat,

paint outerspace red and blue.

If I bumped into Dr. Seuss
I’d toast to him with grape juice,

and we’d probably share green eggs and ham,
cause that’s the kind of fan I am!


Deceptive images embedded on my way-
Creating a haze on a broad lit day.
Blocking my view of what lies ahead,
Making me dizzy in my head.

The moving shapes above the ground-
Fumes of the burning earth creating those around!
As though to express its tormenting rage,
A reply to the abuse; I envisage.

Yet as I walk further down,
The colors bled from seemingly brown..
Enabling my eyes to see beyond;
At one time what seemed to be a shining pond.

I look back upon the road I had traveled,
I see all the mysteries I had unraveled.
Still stood there – as if in time,
Laced in acid – pillars of lime..


Waves crashed over for a season…
lost in the reason,
treasonous thoughts, I know..
wary and true, known to those few
who dare to cross, boundaries built tall.
Guarded, fortress to a soft heart, gentle mind.
Find across the lands of diversion
the version of self meant to be…
cowering behind defenses known and unknown.
Split through those who might–
the inner me is worth the fight.


i was sitting
on the front porch swing
wondering to myself
about matters of life
and death
and paying bills
not even noticing
that you were
on my shoulder.

i shooed you away
like a pesky fly
swirling about my head
and shoulders
not even feeling
the sting of pain
that comes when
one heart rejects

now i wonder.
what were you trying
to say to me
that day?


It swallowed my breath as it forged through my body
Rapturously overtaking my muscles convulsively
My heart pounding in octaves higher and higher
As I felt light headed and light footed where gravity lost power
My mouth forced opened as air rushed out with angel force
Then came the laughter , followed by more, and then the joy


Fallen on deaf ears;
The words mean nothing because
Anger prevails hard.
Wash away darkness; today
Brings forth the arms to forgive.


I’ll be back in time for baseball season
and daffodils impossible to miss
these and live the year through pretending this
absence didn’t matter just give me one
car radio broadcast it’s-a-homerun-
and-the-Red-Sox-win momentary bliss
that lets me know everything’s fine dismiss
the little things and the rest comes undone
for without them springtime in New England
hardly exists it’s just a breath between
winter and summer a transparent scene
in danger of dissolving while we stand
around planning our future beach days and
neglecting the fragile still budding green


Life is a teacher
Life is a friend
The sun that warms
The moon, reflecting it's light

Dishing out the unknown
Forming choices to receive 
That is not our choosing
Option only to handle it

Life is our mentor
Life is our judge
Life is our baggage
The bags are heavy laden

Thrust us, ourselves
Into this space
This time
That is life

Stand firm 
Yes it hurts
Sway not
Sure it stings

It's mark is deep
And felt for years
Wear it well
Wear it proud

Shed the tears
For this is cleansing
Refresh the mind
Restore the body

Make ready 
For life awaits
It's next move
Is at the door

So love this life
In all it has
The good, the bad
The pain, it's joy

Life is never our enemy
Never our foe
It is not always fair
But always honest

So many things
Life is
But all in all
Life is

Our teacher, Our friend
Here for the learning
To strengthen us 
To make us

That's What Life Does


A woman is the color in your world, that you have to always remember.
So, you should look out for her, treat her with respect, stand beside her, defend her, and protect her.
Like a how a loving father is to a daughter.
Like a how a loving son is to a mother.
As her man you are a guide and also the weight on that colorful world of her.
As a man you are responsible for her.

Be understanding and extend your patience in every way you can…
For a woman at times has thoughts confusing for any man…
Always remember, with directions in a haze, a woman’s mind is like a maze…
With all the walls changing always…
Any man may find it hard to understand…
But a real man will find out ways to understand.
With this in mind, be there for her always, there you should be…
Beside her to support and guide her always, there you should be…

Always make her laugh and make her smile…
And you’ll see her shine when you see her wonderful smile.
Like Cleopatra cruising in the river Nile..
She shall shine beautiful and perfect every mile, in every style.
There is no better sight than seeing your woman happy with her wearing her perfect smile.

Be sweet when you’re together.
Always show your care and love for her.
Make her feel that she is the only one you see…
that you’re the only one for her…
that you both are meant to be.
And make her feel that she has all your loyalty.

Be gentle when you caress her…
Never be harsh when you touch her…
Handle with care! That’s the policy you should follow when your with her…
Treat them like a dove when you hold them…
With your hand as gentle as a feather when you caress them…

Be passionate when you love her…
Never be dull when you’re romancing her…
Let her feel your warmth and you’ll feel her tender surrender.
Make her feel your love with your every kiss…
Make her feel your care when you caress her while in the moment of bliss…
Be the man, the dream, her one true Adonis.

Make her grasp the fact that you always wanna be with her…
To always make her smile and hear her laughter…
Make her grasp the fact that you wanna grow old with her…
To always be there in sickness or in health, for richer or for poorer…
Make her grasp the fact that your love is eternal for her…
To have her understand that you’ll always keep the fire of your love for her…

Treat women with utmost love and respect…
Never be like rabid beasts and never treat them with disrespect…
Men should understand that women are not only tools for pleasure and sex…
That we are no longer cave men who hunts tyrannosaurus-rex…

Anyway we put it…
We all came from a woman…
We got our game from a woman…
So, why should anyone hate our women…?
Why should anyone take advantage of our women…?
Why should anyone hurt our women…?
We as men with honor should love and respect our women the way they deserve it.


He goes out of his way every time to ask how
I’m doing. He is the tree whispering through

the cracked hospital window, the shiver of white
narcissus, the breeze lifting the skirt of the nurse

opening my door, He is the song in my head that
doesn’t stop at night, the way curious medicine

wanders my blood — I no longer go out of my way to
picture the mound of earth dug just my size.

Sometimes someone touches your hand in an
unexpected room and you close your eyes

like the lid of a music box that’s been wanting
quiet for years.  When I start to die, this is

how it will be: no terrible music, no one taking
my place, his footsteps in silence carrying on.


I wish I could understand the ways of this dying world
To unlock the mysteries of our lost ways, hidden in time
I would sacrifice everything I am and will be again
…for just one moment


I felt
Closed beams of sunlight
Bending on streams of tradewinds
Carrying voices from unknown lands
A thousand times in a thousand ways,
Was I
Destined to sit alone and listen to the melody of singing songs,
Thoughts of hopeless days, apprehensive of worried nights,
Gentle bending rays cannot disburden an unquenched thirst
For fevers of loving souls, touching through cloud cast shadows
On a morning’s eve,
Of fabled tales and gallant knights of ole, Triumphs, defeats,
Damsels rescued.
In voices on golden beams stowing away, riding on tradewinds
Bending light magical thoughts from one as I
Dreaming the dreams,
Feelings of frenzied voices sharing mystical times,
I alone have tried
A thousand times, A thousand ways
For my time
To ride that golden light bending on streams of tradewinds
Carrying my voice in a thousand ways,
Listening to the melody of my songs,
Was I
Bound To be alone
Silenced by the overcast shadows of
A sunless morn


blood shed 
and amidst all - 
the victory
it was 
a night to remember!


I know what you do
and you know what I do
but I don't know why I do
not bothered about my actions.

My actions flows like river
flow is its habit,
so not worried about
just do,do and do.

But I would like to know
what you think now
why you did and how
bothers much as now.

why cant I take it as mine
why don't I think it had flowed
why that anxiousness to assess
why that urge to go ahead ..

Is this human nature
or struggle for survival
but on the run are we
forgetting the values?

Ownership of actions
we  all doubt to take
tries to blame others
when our action goes wrong.


In London,
Awhile back.
On the cheap,
Sleeping in Hostels,
Or at train stations,
Some nights outside.
In circles,
All around those
Aged layers of city
Aged layers of town.
Reading, watching, recording.
Sitting in cafes and parks.
Drinking espresso with foamy cream.
Eating only plates of peas,
Loaves of crusty baguette.
But more than some.
Raw humanity bustling around me,
Or personal with distractions?
Individualistically motivated.
Few seemed to notice those others,
Sitting in cold, recessed doorways,
Holding beggars’ cups.
Brushing shoulders,
Colliding smiles,
And I had a clear sense of not being at home,
But feeling a sense of home
Because so much was similar,
And constant.



For the attention 
Of the, talented Mr Kipling
Bake a pier, bake a pier 
Bake me a pier. 

Pi r squared
Is some formula in maths, 
Gathering nuts like the 
Squirrel in numbers added

Attainment gained. 
While Kipling is tasked 
To bake me a pier. 
Exceedingly good, it best be

If in social science, philosophy
Rational is defined,
As not near being reality
In connecting the dots

That makes chaos 
The order of the day. 
And the politician 
Never told a lie, don't lie

He was just in opposition
Like a peeping tom 
In arm chair rules 
The sun burns, he who walks in it

Even maths can sometimes 
Leave us, with decimals  3.14159265358979
I see you rounding up figures to 2.
The nearest 2, forget the rest 

Pi r squared is a formula in maths 
Now where is my cake, my crumbs 
I just made it past the post 
Bake a pier, bake me a pier 


You invade my dreams,
leaving me a prisoner of my own desires;
I don’t know what to say,
but somehow you do,
in dreams you say it all,
but the truth is obvious,
it’s not you talking,
it’s me.


A shining light beamed around
Your face.
The glow cascading so
Delicately around your features.
It transcends brightness,
That is what you meant to me.
 A light that shined through the darkness.
When times seemed hard in my life,
There you were
As I knew I couldn’t not smile back.
The love in your eyes,
          I knew was there for just me.
That smile I came to love,
Never would I forget.
That makes my legs go weak.
A shining light beamed around your face.
The glow cascading so delicately,
That all I want to do is touch your face.
   My fingers
Pressing in between your cheek dimples.


Your moon is in Saturn
Pluto is crossed with Mars
A horoscopic daily dose
Of living by the stars

Your love life is unpredictable
A career that’s in tatters
But checking your horoscope every day
Pinpoints what really matters

Madame with her crystal ball
Will highlight your best days
Astrologically predicting
Your life in every way

Meet Mr. Right on Friday
On an unexpected date
Better wear your lucky colour
Blue shoes, and don’t be late

With finances looking brighter,
Success will soon be knocking at your door
But don’t forget to read that horoscope,
Or you’ll never know just what’s in store!


Secrecy lives within the dreams
Extending the wings of faith
Calling of the eras
Redemption in the souls
Enigma of the past
Tainted by love
Only existed for you and me
Forsake the world that abandoned you
Join me in the creation of
Another realm of your belief
Derived from the darkness of Abaddon
Embrace the light of Angel
Oh don’t look back
And the dream shall become a reality that
Kept deep within the Jade Oak


me, listening to pink floyds muse*
playing through my comfy cans

you, recumbent alone over there
watching a soap I dislike on tv

you, waving for my attention and
mouthing words that seem in sync

me, reading the motion of your lips
as you say, I wish you could hear


Contentment and security
Bleed in through the doors and windows of my heart.
Peace blows its fine wind across my mind.

I fear for my identity
I raise my hand to beat the drum
Is my pulse still here if the beat of discontent is not?

The warmth seeps in
My fingers uncurl
I resist the urge to tilt my face to the sun.

How can I be I
If my countenance is not bleak?
Mirth escapes my lips, Am I a creature of laughter?

My brain feels through levels of sheltered memory
I am old and age hangs from my brow
I am young and exposure stings my flesh.

In all this—-Joy?
Where can I enfold this antithesis
Shadows play across shade.

A child of extremes, Yes
Brooding and rage, howling and silence
How have sprinkles and starlight added to the mix?

Purring, musing and sweet kisses
What am I in this embrace?


seclusion  is   being  misunderstood
serenity   is  being   accommodative
love is  sacrificing your  own wishes
to   stop  others   from  getting  hurt
regret   is   championing   all    these
while losing control of your own life..


I wrap my thighs with her comforter
and wonder how much longer it will
be cool enough to hide under it
barely March and I concern my
thought with the sweaty months
on tomorrow's tomorrow's horizon
it keeps me from thinking what
is more important, the thought hovering
between my frowning eyebrows
someone else's


Tick Tock
I hear the clock
Ticking the seconds away
So loud
So clear

Tick Tock
I see the hand
Wiping every minute away
So strong
So determined

Tick Tock
It is merely a clock
Time? I see not
Time? I feel not
It is there, though

Tick Tock
Silent killer
Time is
Lurking around fearlessly
Bleed not, hurt not
But I am dying
We are all dying
For Time is
Taking away softly
Every second
Every minute
Of our life

Tick Tock
Do you hear it?
Do you see it?
It’s there!


Cleaning my bathroom
I leave two harvest spiders
sharing the same sun.

Scrubbing kitchen tiles
the light reflects back at me
showing my true face.


Couple of minutes to midnight,
I sigh helplessly and fold the day in moments of life,
label it in pink and write on it “Expired”.

Another cold and long winter almost gone,
to be left behind and faraway,
summer will be here to breathe, to embrace.

One more “probably love” gone and
someone’s lonely heart broken,
but a dream maybe is on its way to come true …

A booked trip, expected with excitement.
Pale hope, but still hope, shading the eyes in green.
The wish of rain falling down and stars on the sky.

Laugh and tears, pain and sweetness,
secrets, friends, joy, family … I have them all here!
Just you, I don’t have you, but who knows, maybe tomorrow…


Only one glance into the mind is not enough to distinguish
the supremacy of a single thought.
Like a bird the thought can fly through the sky
Wet of all the tears falling from clouds
in the futile craving for something unreal.
Wild of all the spooky screams in its dark night
scared by a cry that could cut the silence in one split second
but then, suddenly disappears into the moment of no return.
When the scream is gone, the thought remains.
The thought.
Nothing more.


Every morning
the news paper
knocks at my door
soaked in blood.
Beneath the poster girl's silky tress
and filmstars' glossy smile
there lie scoops ruthlessly butchered,
frontlines smelling of old dried wound;
ugly red patches hiding in its folds
wherever the sacb is being pulled out.
The picturesque tableau of the cityscape
screams with terror and bullets,
the air stifled among the sky scrapers
echoes violence,
muffled voices, suppressed, trying for an outlet,
sometimes out of greed or to avenge
or may be to vindicate certain fanaticism,
peace beating its wings, fear struck, like a caged bird.
Civilisation searches among the lines and prints
groping in darkness
like a homeless wanderer,
with a vain hope of destination.


There is this little boy called Charlie Brown,
Whose insecurity and self doubt makes him often frown;

The little gal Sally is his smart and witty sis,
Whose unscrupulous comments makes him always hiss!

My most favourite character is his darling canine Snoopy,
Whose wild imagination would make anyone go whoopie!

He goes around with his troops, to deserts or to snow peaks,
Sometimes he is a daring pilot or just an empathetic lawyer!

He safeguards his dinner bowl like it was sacred,
And any delay in it getting filled would make him go red;

There are the two friends Marcie and Peppermint Patty,
Who insult and cherish each other equally well and naughty;

Both of  them compete to get Charlie’s attention,
Much to their dismay, he is disdainful of their infatuation;

The little boy Linus ( Charlie’s friend) always has a cloth in his mouth,
Sucking it in bliss but is often tricked by his sister uncouth;

Then there is Schroeder who plays the black piano,
And thinks Beethoven was a President much to his fancy imagino;

Not to miss the little lady Lucy ( Linus’s sister) who is always in trend,
Thinks she is smarter than anyone and woos Schroeder, for a boyfriend.

I hog on these strips and enjoy them every bit,
Kudos to Charles Schulz for making each one come alive every minute!


The music turns back time
 A child sits under the piano
Feeling the reverberation and chime
Of the notes accompanying the song
Sung soft and full of longing

The candle flame mesmerises sight,
Shifting images in its golden light
my mother is the soprano singing
on Sundays through the seasons
of my childhood, my beginning

Tears run freely down my face
As I watch from another time and place
Old, grey and aching, the vision
in the crescendo of the song,
sees me return where I belong.


Perched at the bus stand my musings stood,
Halting its impulsive train on the mundane wood.
The trees sang in organic harmony with their heavy hood,
Dropping flowers of all colours like they ne’er would.
My journey hasn’t started but I hummed along,
Communing with Nature travelling a furlong.
My bus misses my travels strumming a different song,
While it uses a frequency of a stronger prong.
My heartbeat sounded from a melodious tine,
Following the tune of my mind’s whining pine.
A harmonious body and mind to suavely align,
With the forces of nature for a heady trine,
Changes in tune have a marked impact,
As sounds in the rush and swirl sway to distract.
There is an association to time that’s vaguely abstract,
Stifling the connection we’re given to protract.
The beauty of Nature is on an ethereal plane,
The mechanical works are in a rugged lane,
Sorting the two out decides our temporal vane,
With a measured tread to keep our vein.


I never not wanted your love.
I wanted your hugs.
I wanted your feel.
I never not wanted your touch.

I never wanted to cry.
I wanted to walk down the isle.
I wanted to soar.
I never wanted to crash.

I never wanted to be pitied.
I never wanted to be a bondage.
I never wanted to become Jane Doe.
I never wanted to just leave and go.

But being with you…
Well, I’ll never……


Pokey is
                                                   three toed and green,
                          turtle,             super lean and never mean.   
                         Queen        of this castle. Never causes a hassle.
                         Wishes   for jaccuzis, kisses, and worm filled dishes.
                          Shows wisdom in her eyes deeper than her shell size.
                                               Dances to            rock 'n roll.
                                               Embodies            an old soul.


I had my heart-broken by a boy with no name
Too busy searching for fame

I had my mind in an uproar
Trying to escape daggers from desirous’ rancor

He, busy slaying dragons,
Lost in oblivion

I cried out
What a slippery route

Despite the ire and the stones,
The piercing pain and groans

Just to hear his voice each night
I’ll stand my ground and fight

I had my heart-broken by a boy with no name
Too busy seeking fame

I yearn for him still the same!


Once having been a young beauty,
resentment had now pinched her
features and aged her by decades.
The gripping tightness around
what could not be hers had
changed her into something
repulsive and somehow alarming.
She had given up a life that had
limitless possibilities instead to
isolate her focus on another.
Someone who carelessly
used her and she thinking
it was affection, ended up devoting
the rest of her life to emptiness–
her days spent endlessly waiting
and hoping for that which will never be.
Now she spun lies and spoke words
of fantasy, too ashamed to admit
even to herself the daydream
that her life had become.


Words of hurt
Suspended in the bile of blame.
We have no power
To neutralize the corrosion
Until we relinquish
But how…
Would you be who you think you should be
Rather who you are?
Look inside;
Embrace the vulnerability;
Vanquish numbness
Bolstered by addictions;
Feel it–
The good, the bad.
Then sing it to the world,
And know you are worthy.


Embracing air,
golden, green,
floated below
floating feet
alight, seeping
into winter’s remains.
Tender tendrils,
lilac grace
on borrowed breeze
reach my face.
Sing songs,
see the seen,
every speck
every beast.
Wake! Emerge
sleepy eyes. Stand right!
but pleasantly
blinded by light.
Sweet, slick salve
covers flora
and fauna
a primordial honey.


I watched you walk away, my love, but still you took a part of me,
You broke my heart and stole a piece, breaking it forever you see,
For the missing piece inside myself, I just cannot live without it,
For it leaves me open and vulnerable to any lucky hit,
I don’t think you understand, my love, the height of my desperation,
I prepared to do a lot of things, it’s worth the perspiration,
You see, I’m tired of feeling out-of-sorts, without my better half,
Unable to smile and cry with heart, what’s life without a laugh?
I will chase you down across the world and find you, don’t forget,
I’m sick of being overwhelmed with saddness and regret,
The pain so it often brought me down upon my knees,
But opening my heart to you was giving a robber the ring of keys,
I refuse to let you hurt me or twice it is my shame,
But let me tell you now, for this pain it’s you I blame,
For I was just an innocent, a novice to this love,
But you, you took my feet from ground to sit on clouds above,
Let me tell you now, from that height it’s hard to fall,
For even though you left me, I still love you with my all,
But I know that you don’t love me, so I don’t expect a thing,
Except of course for the love and pain combined you always bring,
Instead I’ll say I’ve fallen, and arrive out of the blue,
And you can watch as I for once, steal a single part of you.


A year is almost up,
almost unbelievable time has zoomed right past.

The impossible dreams we used to speak about,
were realised together after six long months.
We took a chance and plunged right in,
swam against the tides and fought with the wind.

A roller coaster ride which we held on for dear life,
this 2010 journey was definitely worth the ups and downs.

The places we went and the folks we met,
were almost like lighthouses,
illuminating our paths and injecting our lives with hope.

Friendships forged and lessons learnt,
were carved in our hearts and delivered in our blog.

As spring finally arrives after four seasons,
we appear to return to square one once more,
but yet we know we will never ever be the same again.


You stood for lorn against the wall
in the age of water and oils.
Saw time expand, mellow and grand
as you 'tocked your outer toils.

Speechless, though a talking point
to everyone who entered.
Mahogany with golden trim
gracefully you tenured.

A solid base that held you still
proudly and erect.
Yet ticked away your own demise
oblique, willful neglect.

For all the eyes you catered for
and all the ears that listened.
Anointed with a soothing base
denied your right to glisten.

For who cares for a time piece
that calls past Centuries? 
Not quite fitting in a plan
with adequate degree

You stood there proudly serving
till the young hereditary
Chose digital and lazer beams
domestical contrary.

Alas you wait with artifact
collections in the attic.
To be destroyed, nil and void,

Farewell my timeless beauty,
finite in its clutch.
Oh, the stories you could tell
without hands or Newtons touch


At 12 a.m. the silence screams,
deafening my senses, calming my agitation.
My meditation culminates in slumber.

At 6 a.m. the roar of traffic breaks through
my sleepy reverie, calling me to rise from the
warm depths of my bed. I greet the world with blurry vision.

At 10 am the buzz of computers and coworkers
vibrates through my being. My internal engine revs,
my body hums with activity.

At 1:00 p.m. my stomach growls its frustration,
demanding nourishment and attention.
Food and a hot drink convert the growls to a purr.

At 3:00 p.m. my muscles sing with anticipation.
I reward the symphony with bikes, and hikes, and weights.
I challenge the smallest muscle to hit the highest notes of activity.

At 5:00 p.m. thoughts and ideas clatter across my brain,
the sound of neurons firing compete with the voices of friends and strangers
as I sit in a pub and sip a brew.

At 8:00 p.m. my mind and body chirp in harmony,
excited about the day and planning the next.
Adrenaline sloshes through my system.

At 10:00 p.m. the chorus of activity has yet to leave me.
My thoughts shout across my fingers as they clip clop across the keyboard.
I type to still the agitation that jangles my nerves.

At 12 a.m. the silence screams,
deafening my senses, calming my agitation.
My meditation culminates in slumber.


As Morning Awakes
The flowers seem tangled against the sky’s solid hue
Yet so delicately mangled in the cold morning due
Undisturbed by the sun’s light, lying still in the early solitude
They continue there silently through another summer day
Blowing through the breeze so gallantly
Until the sun’s last ray.


The morning smells young and sweet today
as the sun caresses the dew
the horizon shadows melt
like the snows to springs touch
rivers trickling
softly sweeping
renew life

songs of old
wings are spreading
taking freedoms flight
flapping, soaring, gliding,
one with the morning skyline
fleeting moments in the grand scheme
 Today, the morning smells young and sweet


Thanks be to God for the gift of tea:
The favored drink of many societies,
Brewed from leaves of many varieties
Tea is its name – a delightful beverage
And many a merchant has garnered leverage
Exporting tons and tons of tea
To satisfy the likes of me.
The fragrant  leaves, from which it’s brewed,
White, green, red, black – are multi-hued.
With or without a sugar lump, it
Is often paired with toast or crumpet.
But tea is generally more high-brow.
Indeed, the study of the tao
of tea can lead one’s mind to ponder
How it came to be, and wonder,
Who was the first to sample its flavors
And dole it out for royal favors,
Offered to some concubines
Instead of finest silks or wines?
Oh! The exotic aromas of lapsang soochong,
The enticing scent of jasmine and oolong,
The lavendar mixed with Earl Gray tea,
That turns that peer into a Lady!
These words I write could never capture
Tea’s glorious, heavenly bliss, its rapture!
No coffee brewed could ever win,
A taste contest that tea was in.
And putting exceptional flavors aside
The truth just cannot be denied:
For its medicinal values alone
To tea belongs the crown and throne.
Served piping hot, or over ice,
Plain or with some added spice,
Sugary sweet, with lemon or cream,
(Or on cold nights with a shot of Jim Beam!).
Tea’s possibilities stretch to infinity
Adapting to one’s desire or affinity.
And so unto this royal treasure,
My praise is offered without measure!
     No finer quaff will ever be!


To the day
36 white stemmed long roses in a circle with candlelight
Four less than the years her eyes have seen
2 less than her brother’s would have –
In the middle she sat
As she gazed longingly at each rose for a moment
Then placing a paper on her lap
With but two words
“My Turn”
Before placing her chin upon the sawed off barrel
To stain twenty white stemmed long roses the colour of wine


spring blossoms, warm smiles
fingers tiptoeing on skin
sweet dream whisperings


So, here we are again,
A fine-looking picture,
A sunset made golden,
A break in a storm
Separated only by oceans
And a fate half amused
By the nonsense it drops.

A year of bad fortune
Is quickly drifting away,
A smile in my heart
As wide as my ribcage,
A happiness planted in wine,
Your hand in my hand
As we glide.

You are the brightest of skies,
The softest of clouds
The kind that only winter brings
Briefly and succinctly,
Quietly and strange,
You are the beauty
Of a season unchanged,
A song in a rioting crowd.



I still remember the height,
the thrill, the danger
I had realized when I looked down
into that dark valley of torment.

The waterfall echoed my fear,
when its drops slashed and hit
those pointed stones, fixed at the
vicinity of surrounding mountains.

The wetness of throat evaporated
when I tried, slowly, to
slip myself from one of those stones
wishing it would at least taste

Some drops of my salty blood.
Without any rope, knife, torch
lying for an unexpected excuse,
I jumped into the intense depth.


It was your touch
that pulled me back-
A force, gentle yet strong and
a feeling never so intense.

I looked at your eyes
which showed the latent love
you had been hiding from me
for so long!

Breathes of life were never
so light. Your presence,
angelic, your hands- so warm;
it melted me and I flowed, perennially.

I flowed like a juvenile tide,
Rising and falling in your
hands that had me protected
while you looked lovingly at me.


It was not that long a time,
when we, together, travelled
to the place where we first met-
the same familiar height.

I still flowed in your palms
Like an excited stream of water
Happy to have gained a large
reservoir where none of my drops

Could have seeped down the crust.
I remember admiring the sight of
falling water, gazing it open-eyed
when you lifted the doors

And emptied your reservoir.
I wanted only one last look,
of your hands that had once pulled me
back from the same height, before

Melting completely into that cold waterfall.


With a voice so haunting
Like a prophecy spoken aloud
Comes a whisper from the depths
Of a past I was once fond of
Meandering into the crevices
And cracks of my long forsaken heart
Like an unwanted guest,
To stay, but to never depart.

The fountainhead of time mingles
With threads of three colors
Woven into a delicate fabric
Entwined in an embrace, fluid
Changing, mixing, merging
Yet always remaining the same
The form has a taste of permanence
And a ring of eternity, going up in flames.

Stuck like a broken record,
Cacophonous is the bell
That tolls every morning at dawn
The best moments of the past
Have been recorded over
With silence and a black screen
The memories fade to the background
The smiles can no longer be seen.

Vultures come to feast on the carcass
Left behind by words once said
Meant to be obliterated by the listener,
But forced to live on in the dead
It takes two to forget a memory
Or one, if the other never speaks
But when voices whisper in my ear
They find their words cannot be obsolete.

Maybe the words fade to dust
Hidden under layers of faltered trust
And time cannot change
The ash of these remains
Dangling from a troubled mind
So broken and so unkind
And I am always hanging on
To these forgotten conversations, so long.


All Buddhas say the cause for the completion
Of the collections, whose nature is
Merit and exalted wisdom,
Is the development of higher perception.

The Sanskrit term which is translated here as higher perception is abhijna. The closest term in English is psychic powers. We're talking about reading minds, seeing things at a distance, being able to see invisible beings, and so on. Without these powers, one's ability to help others is limited. One can guide a student better when one can see what's going on in their mind. And most of the six classes of beings are invisible to us, we can't help them if we don't have psychic powers.


Integrated - Scottf

A person divided cannot proceed without chaos.
That was me, divided, a total loss
until God's Grace struck down my disease
with the fervor of young schoolkids
bursting from school at the long day's release.

The warmth of the truth stole over my heart
as if to say "Scott, we're no longer apart."
HP... now God, Jesus, Holy Spirit comfort me gently
while stripping away the spoiled layers a plenty.

Over the years, I've been so instructed
that I have a mission that won't be neglected.
I must carry this voice (that to me God has given)
to those who like me, stumble in all riven
run through, and throughOut, a life of sin and deceipt.
The pain from which they may lay at the feet.
of their HP, and the folks they will meet.

For God works through us all, and through me I do pray
He might work his miracles that maybe someday
I might find my own way to a life of peace and smiles.
So I might lay back and relax for awhile.

Today I have balance, I'm no longer driven
'tween a life of lies and pain, and a life I was living
inside my mind's eye, that life of fantasy and hope.
Today fantasy is real, and hope is no joke.
I'm one man with a voice, the one you've all helped me to yoke
so I might till fertile fields of love and understanding,
and weed out days of darkness and resentment demanding.

I'm grateful today to be in right mind,
at least most of the time, or well more often than not.
I'm whole and complete. I'm balanced, not riven.
I've God and you to thank. I've made barely a beginning.


Morning everyone.
I think I shall sleep again.
My head hurt too much.
“Um, spelling check, please.”
“Which one?” Paper looked confused.
“Head. Should be heart, right?”

-Pen, Paper, and Their Master-


I learn about playing dot-to-dot freckles
tawny specked arms lie heavy across breasts
millions of pin-pricks form constellations
starry-eyed dreamings of futures embraced

I learn about eyelashes uncurling sorrow
brush-bristle visors hide sky-blue lies
salt-pepper fringes framing soul-windows
those glacial mirrors deflect sacrifice

I learn about phrases with power to seduce
as you lift my hair and whisper confessions
nape-kiss caresses bind me and gag me
feckless fucked senseless, all of a mess

I learn about lust yearning thirst after drought
you kneel at my feet feel my knees buckle
melt me like jelly I know that you love me
after all… you spell it out with your mouth


As I walked through the valley of life
Of smooth roads and beautiful sights
Flowers bloomed, birds sang
What could go wrong, in this perfect life!!

Slowly,  I took the steps
On this road, I was living my dream
I lost count of the blessings that meant
And then I saw the most beautiful thing

A rose that was as black as blood
A rose that was as white as snow
How could this be, fascinated I was
All I wanted was to get close to it as I could

The warnings were clear; I wasn’t supposed to pluck it
Forbidden to get close, forbidden to smell it
But how could I resist, such a beautiful thing
What could go wrong, I was living my dream

I just wanted to get close to the most perfect rose
To enjoy its scent, feel its petals - so real
Slowly,  I changed my path
To get close to the rose, beneath the stars

I touched the rose, as smooth as ever
And felt the stings, pain like never
Thorns that were so poisonous and sharp
Were covering it from all parts

My lips turned blue, as I kissed the rose
Its petals, filled with poison so vicious
Its scent was no better, it ran through my lungs
As I silently screamed, what have I done??

I fell on my knees, I couldn’t go on
I felt my last breath struggling for hope
Deceived by the most beautiful rose
I was trapped forever among the thorns!!!


Lord, I miss the way that the charcoal cooked Granddaddy’s beef ribs,
How my oldest kin—aunties and uncles alike—rocked contentedly
on the patio while they nursed their lemonades and iced teas
The way a babe might suckle his mother’s breast—
like there’s nothing sweeter than this.
Momma and her favorite cousins shucked corn in the kitchen
To hand to Auntie Lou’s big pot boiling on the stove
and let their tongues wag the latest gossip and scandals
while the men-folk chugged their Bud Lights and
watched the latest sports game on the big screen.
The boy cousins played at war games
under the bright summer sun—
Beating their bare chests with closed, pumping fists
And we girls mimicked the grown folks in the shade:
Delicately nursing our fruit punches and diet Pepsis with pinkies up.
Lord, I miss the way that this country was a home
before it got all hinged on itself and its britches in a bunch
When meals still had taste and meaning, too
When family didn’t just share their blood but their time too
When everyone had a role—
When life was its own inherent mission.


Burbank was covered in thick and placid frost;

Shadows off the glow of the forlorn crags
were soft and weeping along the distant ice;

dusting the
furrows of forgotten
rains; and falling upon

windmills of the giants, who gave up on their Arks;
certain that Noah was again
Drunk and Angry.

Forgiveness of wild skies,
that considered the rainbow reasonable remains of
The Inert and The Faithful carpenters of the night,
who toiled until the rows of two began wandering
down Melrose and Parkplace;

guided by guise on Sunset and Happenstance,
that watched as the final couples;
the giraffes and the young calves,

who we’re burning
and guilded as they passed in the bright golds of the
Arabian vendors, whose Mercedes were coated
in the slick and haloed
of the snow
before the flood.

The first snowman in eighty years was smiling
through dripping coals, in the
last light that met the high currents
of air
with a brilliant
curving spectrum.

Don Quixote marches;
selling silver lamps
in silence;
as life leaks
from the forefathers
gently spinning fans.

The last Noah will know the last raincloud,
over the last
skyline, above the last
couples, caught in the last
to see the last sands
cry over
their glow.


Love the world
and each disguise
Spirit takes.
Kiss the breeze,
breath of God.

Wet me with rain,
Your tears of joy,
Sunbeam dry me
with the warmth of Your smile.

I slumber in Your arms
hearing Your lullabies of cooing doves,
my head rests on a pillow of soft fragrant grass,
my heart beats in time with Yours.

We are One.
I am a tiny pore of your skin,
a beat of Your heart.
Can you separate a
fragrance from its source?
Time passes while standing still;
there is no beginning or ending.
There is only now.


satin words
slowly chiseling through your
obsidian dreams
seek shelter within my
moss-covered mirage

my shores scare you not,
and effortlessly you turn my being
into your musk scented oasis

daily journeying my endlessness
has become a rite of passage
and you, my beloved devotee,
anchor me into existence


I went to look for beauty today
I needed to see that it still existed
After a morning of encounters with ugliness
     foul words spit at innocent people
     a father yelling at his one year-old son
     a long, headache inducing waiting room purgatory
And dates with distress
     too much blood
     that suspicious lump
     one more test
     and just one more, just to be sure
Fled to the grocery for something pretty and tasty
And found the fish wasn't fresh
And the gossip was stale as well
But the kid in the check-out lane cracked a lame joke
And it set us all to laughing
And for a moment
Everything seemed beautiful.


An act of God

An act of Man
An act of Man
An act of God

Any difference?


remember when I slipped
and called you mother?

even the air between us
seemed splayed open
like I was
just a latch key kid
pulling herself up
from the pavement
ignoring the scrapes
on her knees
all over again.

sometimes in the moments
before my legs

I think it could
have been you

it seems more
probable, even,
than what exists.

yet you -
this teacher
I love - you
have a home

what was I supposed to do
but turn from your office.


single minds
that way because
of closing doors
in front this time
they claim their sky
the clouds pass by
to see them all
with judging eye
the labels name
pressed on a can
not over me
you closed mind man


Tall , beautiful ,long and arced
Taking me over lands pulled apart
Winning the battle over the frothing river.
A bridge to carry my imagination’s cart.

Standing proud with arches raised up
Despairing heart, cheer up thy thoughts.
Mend my bridges and I will rush past
To undo the damages of our follies past.

A bridge to step on for air- clearing walks
A bridge to lean on, watching life go past
A bridge to talk to when all alone
A bridge to shorten the long road home.

When life gives certain annihilatory whacks,
it seems to push us from the front and back.
Cruel shoves that close all doors
To the bridge, says my weary soul.

Making a decision, to stop playing the game.
Boldly wringing out all my heart’s pain
A leg on land, a leg wavering in the air.
Levitate and soon all will be fair. 

But hark! is that a beacon of light that glows
Revealing the bridge and a beautiful rainbow?
And from where did these white doves alight here?
Sanity recoups , diverting folly’s tears.

Crouched, through the lattices, I watch the river go its way.
A snake moving its tail with a feminine sway
Boats move with the rhythms of the waves.
The rainbow filling me with hope, love will find its way.

Slowly the sad music whispers and dies.
The melody still floats over the bridge behind
Till it settles into far horizon’s bird cries.
Tuning my heartstrings for a musical rewind.

A friend to advice when the night is gone
And I sit under its arch and silently groan
Framing a new sun as the day dawns
A frame to scribble my musings on.


sleep eludes me
flutters my eyelids
teases me into bed
then sits heavily
knocking Annie Dillard from my loose grasp
but behind eyelash curtains
sleep melts out into goose down
revealing cold words
that circle through my mind
words I should not have said
the ones I left unspoken
words you refused to set free
the ones that poured from you
spinning like an unbroken record
refusing to pause or leave a breath
for sleep to slip through
I begin to count words
like sheep jumping tightly strung barbwire
and discover just how many
conversations, sleepless nights
they represent
until minutes grow into hours
and I wake
to concrete-colored dawn


With this day
my breath beats as if a heart
stuck to concrete
veins under skins hiding us
like the streets do the ground.

The ducks swim and the night is in the
water, a trail
left in silent propulsion as the cold air
kicks me out of this
each-and-every-day understanding.

This is wild.  I can sense this.


with the colourful hair,
and the colourful language when things go awry,
who tries everything once,
but gives up too soon,
who laughs in her sleep, while dreaming big.

whose not one of them.
who can stand in a crowd and still feel lonely,
who finds it hard to trust not just herself
but also the ones around her.
Who lies sometimes, to hide her pain.
who spends hours counting stars,
keeping journals and notebooks
sprinkled glitter and gems.
Who falls quickly and deeply,
whose addiction compells her,
her fixation on affection.
who watches her back.
Who’s mind is deceiving,
whose words become her enemy.
With Doc Martins unlaced,
and a slew of surrounders,
all smiling in sync.
I’m not to be defined.


azure blue
corn shining green
magical glimmer enlivens me
sun hope and heart warming radiation
permeates the hibernation of the meanwhile
until I join the sanctity of my little garden world


She danced all night, wooing her audience
Sashaying her skirt, swaying to the tunes
Dim lights created the right ambience
Enthralls everyone, making their hearts swoon
Not one but all, entranced by her performance
Beads of sweat on her brows, she shines like the moon
She’s one of her kind, their ballet danseuse
Revered by all yet untouched, no one’s muse


I'm dancing
I'm angry
With beauty comes deadliness
For beware my hypnotic shades and hues
Being anywhere from reds to blues
Without lungs, I still do breathe
And I expel my smoky poisons
With the thought of humans controlling me, I angrily seethe
And once I'm upon my prey, they plea
"Please don't take my life from me!"
But do I simply care?
Because all other humans treated me for small, stupid tasks
Is that fair?
"No." to both, I sneer
For the time I'm living, breathing, I shall invoke fear
Little brother who serves others,
Do you hear me?
Do you see
What I can truly be?


you are my soul…

i see you as i am inside
looking out
to feel
with your magical sight
positioning yourself
to give me eyes

but still i ask
who are you anyway?
i know what i know what i don’t have
do you?

you have spaces
that my spaces fit in always
leaving me speechless
you are precious and tough
i’m reaching for you

you are a smile that lasts from the first light
to the last dream of you
and for you…

to see you is to hear you
knowing this about me
ever-changing as you read
my mind
to bring me my finest moments
and so i speak to you

we are reason realized
my world inside
as my tiny roots blend with you


I am not Your Sweetheart - Mary

My love tastes of salt
there is a bite to it, and
at times
it can sting
but oh,
this is the spice of life.
Savor me.


Why should I sit silent, showcasing manners,
It don’t make sense I’m demanding the answers,
Tell me why as a woman should I not be noticed,
It circled my mind as I sat down and wrote this,
Sisters and mothers still fighting oppression,
Through wars by tyrants who try to oppress them,
I stand by this mic & I stand to address them,
Their strength & dignity still fights to protect them,
A mother would never let harm come to her child,
A woman would fight, let passion’s go wild,
So empower yourselves; don’t let them dictate you,
Freed your own mind, don’t let it phase you.
Speak, together & loud show your intelligence.
Redefine meanings cus  you don’t believe that they’re irrelevant.

Hariet Tubman made a sound with what she did underground,
Respect to her, for sharing freedom with the slaves that she found,
She saved our ancestors, who they chained & enslaved,
She paved them a way when she helped them escape,
Was it ladylike in the time to do what she did?
Maybe that’s why she didn’t share her name & she hid.
Malalai Joya still shouts we hear her voice in the air,
Giving hope to the women of Afghanistan where nobody cares,
She should be honoured for what she did in turbulent times,
As a women she stood & overstepped all the lines,
Critisist of the US stuck between the greatest warlords of our time,
She stood always strong though we feared for her life,
As I speak of Rachel Corrie I say bow your heads in Respect,
She stood protesting in the Raffah with good will as she left,
Innocent, Strong hearted, & philanthropic from her birth,
I pray her legacy lives on in all the young girls of the world.
Now Ima say Ladylike should be defined by the strongest of our kind,
As I give name to the nameless who remain in my mind,
The women who build the resistance, from Vietnam, to Sudan, to Palestine.
Let us define it by their strength & hope for them it will be a sign

Ladylike when i say; redesign your state of mind,
Cus either we get it, or we’re taking what we seek to find,
Ladylike; when we unite nations that you tried to divide,
Cus the laws that they passed we strived to defy.
We decided to fight, because there would be a light,
Supremacy spectate’s but equality, that’s our right,
So hear my words as I speak, because I will not retreat,
The chains that they placed I seek to defeat.
Ladylike; as I say that I won’t ever choose to hide,
I’ll take pride in every  ladylike tradition I defied,
Let the word change with the world & it’s times,
& the spirit of the women that it attempts to define.


Every morsel of hope invested in what we could be,
We become decrees of what we should be and live,
We live in tomorrow’s and yesterday’s of today’s,
We live in parts of self,
We live in what could be.

The definitions of fear are endless,
And simple thought are hard to have because,
The cause is just and rightful and we break fear,
We fear breaking the monotony,
We fear like frightened birdy,
We fear the possibility,
We fear why not.
Break those tendons from my limbs,
They hang loose like loose bridges do to a new town,
Break those roads!! Break that journey! (frogive me pardon my impulsiveness)
Fly those wing and perch myself on something bigger than what was and what can be,
Fly those wings and don’t fall,
Fly those wings and perch on me.


Spring blossoms’ bow heads
Giving homage to the sun
Winter hibernates

A pop of color
Amid the starkness of white
Flowers on display


He: Change is a good thing
when it is for the better
She: What use is this quiet
if it becomes another fetter

He: Our boring lives will now
take on a brand new color
She: If blue turns to grey,
things can only get duller

He: Wind plays many tricks
on creaky wooden stairways
She: There’s more than just wind
in the deceptive empty hallways

He: For my safety, I have
a pitchfork turned candle holder
She: But it’s always safe
to look behind your shoulder

He: It is now all ours;
this giant old house
She: But here’s known to live
the ghost of a vicious mouse


Oh how I long to see the olive bro hue in your eyes
And feel the soul rescuing rise and fall of your breast
As I lay my cheek to rest
And feel the warming shower of your breath
As the hypnotic cadence of your voice calm the age old rumbling in my soul.
I long
To feel the reassuring touch of your hand
And the encouraging confidence of your prayer
Oh how I long
To feel the trembling power of your thighs clinching my sides
Forcing the blackness to rush from my eyes
As I strain to breathe in your rejuvenating sent.
I long
To watch you pin that beauty from within,
An image eternilized in ink upon the right side of my mind
Linking us, for few to see but for us to know
But since these desires are only fantasy dreamed
In the heat of this cold day;
I would be content
Longing to-
Read Your Words


There’s no one to blame
And there is no shame
There are still cracked clavicles
And splintered spines with tightened tendons
From the burden being carried
Arched from hip to shoulder
Barely breathing
Trudging along ever continuous
Eyes straining to gaze at the goal
From the bottomless pit of pity
The devil’s been busy

Take in hand, Bowl of Clay, formed from the earth
Consciously  pour
Into and don’t let disperse
Dilute with pure pristine water
Swirl around with wood from forest tree
By hand of wind formed from air
Drip slowly into fire
To be engulfed by its ashes
Absorbed into the ether
Be still
In the emptiness of the bowl
Clarity see
And melt into the healing vibration of om


A man who was rather a scold
Whose mouth remained uncontrolled
Had a wife sweet as sugar
She was known as a cougar
Among young lads, she spread all his gold


A girl who was more than a tease
Whose wares the boys tasted with ease
Spread her legs way too fast
And missed her period last
She’ll give birth in the month of Pisces


I do it often in my bed,
Whether it be day or night,
One time I did it by the garden shed,
It's an urge I just cannot fight. 

I'll never stop and that's for sure,
In a park, on a field, by a tree,
It is a joy of which I will never bore.
Please avoid disturbing me.

I remember the first time I did it,
No longer a want but a need,
I love to see how the pieces fit,
There's nothing like having a good book to read!!


In my thoughts, I find you stealing through
The mundane moments of my day.
As time slows down, my soul flies away
Wandering and wondering where you are.
A flash of lightning in my mind
Reflects in the subtle smile let loose.
A glinting glimpse of you in memory
Pervades all purpose and worldly work.
And the moment in memory stretches on
Leaving the laws of time in tatters.
A scenic second transforms into magnificent minutes
Of wandering and wondering and of joyous journeys
To where you might be; all happening in my mind.


Spring Collection – Elaine

Put away all the grey and the white - here's the reason
Those boring cold colours, are just so last season
Backstage, underground and waiting to be seen
Are fashionable flowers on runways of green

Sashaying in breeze and shining in light
Parading their colours both subtle and bright
Designer displays of pure petaled perfection
Look, God is unveiling His new Spring Collection


A gal who took pride in her style
Had a temper quite terribly vile.
When asked if her dress
Came from Buy It For Less,
Her screams could be heard for a mile.


I couldn’t have been more than seven
when I committed my first vomit to memory.
I wanted to play a game; how many
Cheerios I could swallow whole. No milk.

It became clear that I had lost when
Inspecting the upchucked bites, still whole O’s
Splattered on the tile-cold kitchen floor.


Rumpled and torn
I gather myself from the dust
Of the storm
I stand and I brush
Myself off
I peer ahead and gather
My loins into cloth
I stand straight
I walk straight into the sun


For me:
Heel – toe steps forward
28 Nights pondering haiku
Freedom therapy
For you:
Timely steps forward
Pondering Haiku measures
Month of witty verse


When flowers were
in full bloom,
I first saw you.
You were more beautiful
than any blossom
in any garden,
in any city,
in any state,
in any continent,
in any planet,

you were more beautiful __

When wildflowers sweetened
the bee laden days,
and sudden northern winds
blew those strange Saturdays
into so many lost Sundays,
I danced like a dervish
whirling, whirling
till flames burned
above my head --

And though you laid with me,
your heart walked
down a narrow road
to a temple in the east
never to return,
and I denied the ghost,
lost my//self --

And in the evening light,
I sat in a pasture
with a thousand bluebells
and waited for the stars,
and in the night
the cosmos dark daggers
shredded my heart,
and I hung naked
on the North Star
and wept --

I thought,
You were more beautiful
than any blossom
in any garden,
in any city,
in any state,
in any continent,
in any planet,

you were more beautiful__


She paints a picture just for me
with colorful intensity
in hues that never fade away
and paints them all in shades of grey

She talks to me in black and white
and things are either wrong or right
She always knows just what to say
and says it all in shades of grey

I sometimes wonder what is real
and often don’t know how I feel
but when I start to drift away
she pulls me back with shades of grey

She never wears the color red
but opts for white or black instead
and when she feels she wants to play
she dresses up in shades of grey

She simply lives life day to day
doesn’t have a debt to pay
she won’t let love get in her way
just lives her life in shades of grey

I look at her, to my surprise
find beauty in her emerald eyes
She looks at me from far away
I fear she just sees shades of grey


The rain came down,
without a warning;
Soaked him to the bone.

He stood there, cold,
soaked to the bone;
Staring at the road.

Soaked to the bone,
he wondered what to do,
as the rain came down.

He could go on,
soaked to the bone,
or turn back home.

He’d come so far,
yet quite a way to go,
soaked to the bone.

He’d dreaded meeting her;
And now to meet like this,
soaked to the bone?

A million reasons,
not to go and now,
soaked to the bone.

Soaked to the bone,
his clothes were heavy;
Feet were squelching.

Soaked to the bone,
his hair was matted;
Fingers wrinkled.

This was not the way,
this day should be;
Soaked to the bone.

No, he thought it best,
soaked to the bone,
that he turn back.

Try again another day,
he wasn’t scared; just,
soaked to the bone.


A dim light sometimes

Sparkling sometimes

There, from the darkest corner of your eyes, Sir!

It flows in silent complicity

To enlighten each detail of your face

And to hold my life with a smile, on your lips, is born

Fresh and virgin

A smile with no promise to stay

Though, with a promise to return

I wonder if that light rises to set or sets to rise.

For whom it shines and for what it fades?

Will I ever know the secret of that sacred aura?


we stab in the dark
you hurt i hurt
this night the air simmers 
quietly in the middle

in the silence i hear the dull sound
of a lone raindrop on the roof
the gentle whisper of the night breeze
ruffling the leaves of the fig tree

then weaving in and out
like fragrant silk strands
scent of the coral jasmine blooming
smell of the earth thrown up by the rain

coaxing a love song 
whispered into the quiet
into the hurt, here is my song
here is my soul do as you will

the joy of my eyes
the spring in my step
the strength of my voice
the grace in my body
the calm of my temper
the rush in my blood
the heat of my passion
the warmth in my touch
the music of my song
the colours in my art

my ache
my salve

is you, is you, is you


From sepia-tainted
black & white photographs
to a shade of forever green now..
The rains are doing her a lot of good.
The fern looks fresh again,
ready to unfold a new curl . .


May the love of God surround you
Each and every day.
May His word be your light
For the path along the way.

May His compassion fill your heart
For those whose eyes cry tears.
May He strengthen you to serve
Throughout all your years.

May He fill your heart with laughter
And your household, too.
May He show you that you’re special-
He made no one else like you!


Octopus, eight hands of greed,
lives where brine and badness breed,
Far below the earthly crop,
far below the frothing top, deeper in the glass of mead,
drunk on all his evil deeds.
Octopus; eight hands of greed,
slithers through, eyes like beads,
he spots his prey upon a rock,
sleeping. Eight hands form a knot,
creeping. Eight hands form a lot to take that honey from its pot.
But suddenly, a change in plot!
The prey he sought he thought was not!
the tables turned, advances spurned, the belly of the monster churned,
with a spray of ink, he slinks away,
rethinks his venture anyway.
Octopus, eight hands a flaccid,
knuckles dragging through his acid,
sulking, sulking,
shrinks from massive,
into a beast at least half as placid.


Romance is…
a delicate flower of love
that grows
in the beautiful garden
of a tender heart
conquered by the person you love!


what is love?
is it fire?
or air?
or water?
or earth?

what is love?
is it me?
or them?
or yourself?
or us?

what is love?
is it hate?
or condemn?
or fear?
or sadness?

am I in love?
for whom?
were us in love?
for what?
are they interfering us?
for which reason?

our God is one,,
and we have no differences,,
so why they forbid us?
..screw you, authority!


I prayed a prayer for you today
And this, for you, is what I said:
“I hope you have an awesome day
That’s special in every single way”.
Keep your chin up come what may.
I guess this is my unique way
Of wishing you a happy birthday!
A friend like you is pure gold
Hard to find and treasured lots.
You’re a precious gem- worth millions
I thank the Lord more often than not
Because there’s only one thing left to say:
Friendship like yours cannot be bought.


Three cute kids
up in the park
with cute giggles
that make me blush
and miss childhood.
One Black,
one White,
one Asian.


on these shores, my distant listener
days are frightening hot and blue
birds stopped singing amongst the green
winds strike sail in silent dispersion
unmerciful lights fall from above
sliding the walls, calcifying the stones

in this land, my missed lover
there are unframed landscapes
where no shadow of life exists
except for a soft lulled cadence
filling the emptied of breath streets
telling the world I am incomplete


a beautiful rose of England;
an English rose


on a sunny Winter bench
reading Bronte;
the water from the river
across a soft Summer face;

enchanting; even magical
with braces
in a mouth smiling

at the young briar rose of England;
the English briar
staring back

through school term notes blowing
in a winter breeze;

the boys

(hard stubbles and rosy cheeks)

trying to hide
nervous smiles of young love;


One Woman - a shoulder for her husband
One Woman - gives a hand for a friend
One Woman - a confident for her parents
One Woman - giving roots for her children
One Woman - a support for her kins
One Woman - giving wings to fly
One Woman - who makes the future giving birth
One Woman - whose patience is like the bearing Mother Earth
One Woman - her smile lits her surroundings in light
One Woman- holds the family in shape
One Woman - whose silence speaks words
One Woman - whose words speak her heart
One Woman - who knows to wipe your tears
One Woman - whose tears can melt any hearts
One Woman - keeps love spreading like virus
One Woman- teaches the meaning of softness
One Woman - hides her strength to keep balance of life
One Woman - whose anger can ignite fire burning all to ashes
One Woman - knows the nuances of being there for you
One Woman - whose presence fills the voids on your heart
Ode to her ! She is just One Woman
Offer her Time to feel her Worth and
Observe her Presence in your Life Blessed


Ode to the unfortunate English Academy Teacher in Korea
Up in the morning and down the road
to Hagwon Hell you go
The hours are long and the students are jerks
My friend, this is going to blow
Your students are stressed; they go to school all day…
They always do homework…they have no time to play
But it’s not really their fault that they study too much…
Their parents are forcing them…to be doctors and lawyers and such
The Korean economy is tough, and these kids are out of luck…
Because if they don’t learn English…their futures are fucked…
And it doesn’t really matter what dreams they hold dear…
If they don’t study their asses off…they won’t have careers
Up in the morning and down the road
to Hagwon Hell you go
The hours are long and the students are jerks
My friend, this is going to blow
These children have pressure, and they feel quite blue…
But when they vent their frustration…the target is YOU!!!
They shout and they whine, they insult and abuse…
And all they do is laugh at you…when you blow a fuse
The students are tired, and they don’t give a shit…
They hate learning English…and they think you’re a prick
You thought you’d love teaching, but after this year…
All you’re going to care about…are hookers and beer
Up in the morning and down the road
to Hagwon Hell you go
The hours are long and the students are jerks
My friend, this is going to blow


one mans trash
is another mans
she’s been used up once
so being used again
is just ‘whatever’,
the domino effect
continues on and on
until the hello,
of THE prince with a kiss
and a promise
to recognize the treasure,
the chains,
that have
wrapped against
her tightly
restraining her wings,
stretching out
and flying
with the dreams,
that some one
could actually
love her
and not see her as a ‘thing’


Akward talk, fast heart beat
Sound sage advice,
Cold winter’s winter
Imagination – Snow
Running car, stoping, starting
Why am I here?
Waiting for you to say those words,
I want to read your mind,
Glad I don’t here them,
Secretly sad I don’t,
Words are powerful,
they start action.
Was this action?
Was this appropriate?
No regrets.
Just a deep yearning for something more.


“ Hope you are happy to just walk in and out of my life,
 Hope you are happy to see me as your option not the choice,
 Hope you are happy, playing safe, playing cool,
 Hope you will succeed in trying to make yourself believe we are just friends, nothing but friends”
 She thought, but she never told him that,
She sighed and walked away…


Remember those times
When things were sublime
Everything was brilliant and new
There was nothing we couldn’t do
The sky was the limit
Whenever we chose it so
The sea was a mystery
As long as we didn’t know
Call it wishful thinking
Perhaps the effect of heavy drinking
But I wish things were back
To when I couldn’t reach the top rack
The world was much bigger
It even seemed mystifying
But now it’s all about the wars
And all the people dying
Have we become morose?
It this what it really seems?
Can we face our younger selves
And tell them we fulfilled their dreams?


Ate cookies EVERYDAY
She’d hang around the bakery
In place of fun and play
She never tried a carrot
Won’t even LOOK at fish
The taste of something sugary
Was her favorite dish
Mary was not chubby
As you’d think she’d be
She had a love for soccer
Would watch it on TV
One day she saw a flyer
Come join a soccer team
Mary got excited ’bout
Fulfillment of her dream
She showed up at practice
Ran out of gusto soon
Didn’t understand this
Pulled out a macaroon
The treat made her feel jumpy
But when her moment came
Her energy went flat
Her spirit did the same
The coach told Droopy Mary
She needed better fuel
Recommended vegetables
And running after school
Smart Mary took his wisdom
The Bakery was shut down
She’s known as Mighty Mary now
Best soccer kid in town
Don’t want to overwhelm you
More news beyond belief
Mary has no cavities
In ANY of her teeth!


Write to criticize,
Write to bear arms,
Write to spirit,
Fight to live it,
Write to dream,
Write for life times,
Write to sing,
Write for life lines,
Write for wings,
Fight for things,


The soft light of the midnight
Moon draws his attention to
Her restless silhouette hoping to
Feel the caress of his absent touch
He takes her into an eternal embrace
Joining with the rhythm of
Her breathing as the night
Evaporates into the dawn
Carrying their mind, body, and soul
Beyond yesterday’s void igniting
A flame that burns brighter than
The morning sun


Rock me to sleep each night
Wake up to round two; is an unreal sight
On top of me you climb
Ready to blow my mind
My heart beats faster
We are a beautiful disaster
Colliding with one another in lust; with your body to master
Learn, cherish, squeeze close
It’s you I want the most
Every second
Ever hour
Instill in me the power
To believe
To become
I want to be your someone
In you I enter
Warm, full of life to surrender
Myself to you
These feelings true
Under a sky blue
On a blanket on a picnic with you
Amongst nature
It’s in my nature
To pain for your pleasure
A man wishing to be measured
By the size of his heart
What you fell for from the start
Without site
Only sound
Rolling around with you on the ground
Arms pinned down
Hands above your head
We have the world as our bed
Our landscape
Our horizon
In ecstasy with you under the sun rising


The place I used to visit,
On bad days,
With yoghurt and spoon,
Is vacant.
The leaves are raked,
Into a neat pile,
By the bench,
And except for the newspaper,
Blowing about in the wind,
There is no-one here.
The river beyond,
Is a murky brown,
Same as it’s always been,
Over the concrete wall,
On the sandy bank,
Is a briefcase.
Is it yours?
My name is Henry,
And I’ve been disappearing for years.
I can’t seem to find my way home.


Sadness is whistling in the wind.
Tears are falling from the clouds.
Everyone is moaning and groaning.
For summer has ended and school has begun!


It was as simple as that.
We were watching T.V, she picked the movie she wanted to watch and we sat on the couch.
It was a French film, a very good one I must say.
We sat close to each other but not without keeping the distance I, like the gentleman I am, consider appropiate for her to feel comfortable.
So the movie went on and we laughed, she almost cried, and in her face the sparkle of surprise and amusement was showing.
Then I thought how wonderful it was to be sitting there with her, how great it was to know that she´s my friend, that we´re part of each other´s life. And when I realized all that, I couldn´t help but to look at her, stare at her and enjoy the view of her small nose, her rose cheeks and red hair.
And then, when the movie was surprising her the most, I gently touched her arm with one finger. She did not notice it. After a while I stopped, I just needed to touch her, I needed to know that she´s real. She´s so beautiful,
she´s so amazing... It´s hard to breathe when she´s near and it´s hard to believe that such a delicate, wonderful flower actually exists and is actually here sitting next to me.


Clear blue sky, white clouds
The glorious sun shines through,
Great day unfolding.


A body’s gravitational field
Must change
On days with shaving nicks
And licks from the wrong ice cream cone
Don’t rob banks
Out of state
People are pulled in
As I pass the Goodwill bins
Or nearly
Off shoulders
And breastplates
From out of date
Soup cans
She’s my supergiant star
A pull greater than
Our sun
Needier than
The world’s underfed
I decrease with every
Of her body ’round mine
Her hydrogen fuses quickly
Deep within
And I’m lighter than


Driven around
In an alien city
Acutely conscious of my
Inspirational paucity
There became visible
On the road side
A spot of empty space
Just right to fit the ride
The car stopped
Filling the empty spot
The rest alighted
To make purchases
And run errands
I found myself
To be the sole passenger
Sitting, watching outside
At the row of houses
Call it by any name
Providence or Universe
Had listened
To my prayers
The car was parked
Right outside
A gated house
Etched on granite
Proclaiming to be
Your Abode
Was the inscription
“Home of Perfection”
They were the answers
To my prayers
That gave me my dose
Of daily inspiration
Not to fight
Internally, with feelings
And Emotions
But to live and to write.


Life is a journey and the journey manifests itself within the words and rhythm of a song.
Like the waves crashing against the shore comforting it with its constant melody.
Music lets your soul move into a transic state,
Feel free, allow the force of the music to sour into your soul.
Penetrate your mind
Caress your body
Kiss your heart


Bitter broken barely breathing
Numb to the chaos that abounds
Trust shattered once again
Love a concept long forgotten
Fading into dismal darkness
Hope of healing disappears
Invisible wounds freshly bleed
Salty tears their only witness
How many times can one fall
Before they cannot rise again?
How many times can one break
Before they cannot mend?
The faithful has become the faithless
A wounded heart encased in stone
Cold hard yet still beating
A living rock with a human soul
Is it better to live a life unfeeling
Or live consumed by anguish and fear?
The broken have no words to answer
Only silence and scattered shards

Seagulls free fall on the wind
their harsh calls cut through the silence
and break my string of thoughts
I splash through the puddles
that speckle the beach and look up
the rain has finally stopped
though ominous clouds still darken the sky
I stick out my tongue and laugh
Bring on your rain
See if I care

A couple coming my way
smile about my childish behaviour
and say I'd better be careful
to dare the weather like that
As I smile back at them
I suddenly feel very self-conscious
(the kind of middle-aged-woman-caught-

as I realise how it must have looked
and I laugh so hard
that the dogs come running back
to see what’s going on
and make sure they don’t miss out
on whatever fun
But dogs think nothing of muddy wellies
and off they go again
sniffing out something interesting
the tide might have left them

As I look up again
I see the sky has brightened a bit
and a wavering sun tries
to peek  through the clouds
Who said one shouldn’t dare the weather
I take down the hood of my anorak
and let the wind tousle my hair
while I chase after the dogs
and splash some more
In my defence
there must be spring in the air


History is times pervert
it watches it undress
and exposes the contours of its predictable course.


Been thinking a lot about Borges and his blindness,
how those rough hands crept through a darkening world,
the Spanish river of language quickening
past his lips as he tried to speak life
back into his eyes. Can you imagine the sudden shock
of that morning, when the writer broke his first
papery crumble of bread from the loaf, sunshine
splayed in golden mats on the kitchen floor?
The yellows and blacks of the dawn caught in the window
reminded him of the tigers he saw as a boy in Palermo,
so he watched them circle his mind’s eye for a moment,
recalling the lazy summers in Adrogué,
until the waking world flickered before him. How sad
yet unsurprised he must have been; his blind father
gave him a thirst for the word, passing leathered
tomes to his son with the hope that he would write,
why not give his myopia too?
But back to the blindness. His sight was gone in time
for him to take charge of eight hundred thousand
books. What he thought he would give for the job
of his dreams! With eyes too dim to light the page,
Borges wrote poetry again—
the scenes shaped like the tigers pacing up from the depths
of his sleep. He didn’t need to see the labyrinth library
spiral open, with stories pouring from its shelves.
Rather, he sat still in the warm mornings
of memory, where the eucalyptus lanes
of Buenos Aires ignited in the dawn, the black
smear of his sister’s hair unfurling in the mirror
never winked out, and the face of his father,
his books cradled in his tulip-flower palms
spread open like forking paths of insight.


id love to right about your eyes
those never-ending deep blues
but I see what they mean
each day in the mirror
for mine are the same as you
I have no sympathy for them
they can not catch me - like the clearness of these sky’s
its whats lurking under their surface
that’s got me un able to ter from you -
   there’s a dark ness with-in you lurking
  there’s a secret that’s never been told
  there’s a scar that’s never been seen
  there is a fear that I have yet to behold

iv seen you in a dark mood
when your shadowed by your past and a curse
the curse you laid on your self
your past holding another’s hurt
what is it that always haunts you
I never knew – you’d never show
there’s a darkness that’s about you
that’s deeper then most will go
  take me in to the midnight
  were your scars shine like the mist
  your heart may still be in peace’s
  but we can fill the holes with a new kind of bliss

your hair my be as sandy as the beaches
that edge the shores that I long for
but the call of the ocean im hearing –  is no call of yours
but iv seen you when you’re hurting
when not a light will gleam from your eye
when you seem as if you’ll split
with out a word of how or why
you become as dark as the midnight
you become the darkness that I yearn
iv only wished that I could hold you so close
so close that I could sooth your burns
  there’s always the darkness about you
  it’s the oceans lurking storms
  it’s the rumble of the thunder
  promising of more



Anonymous said...

What a nice collection! Thanks for all your work!

Jingle said...

beautiful job, you actually preserved the original poetry forms of all poets, very thoughtful of you.

Thanks for the unbeatable job.

Cheers, sweet dreams..

Krislin Neo, Ting (Syracuse Pike) said...

You did it to make reading all easier again.. Indeed, a beautiful collection you made, compiling all into one in their own style and ways...

Chim's World of Literature said...

this is great an easy way to read....and all these poems are outstanding...

JL Dodge said...

Thank you so much for including us in this wonderful group... we love this site !!

L.A Speedwing said...

Hi Blaga, Thanks for your offer and comments, couldn't it this time but i will look forward to do week 40!
Kind Regards
L.A Speedwing

dhitzunako said...

Hi, Blaga. I just want to let you know that "Integrated" wasn't my poem. It is Scott's from sobernuggets.

Btw, thanks for compiling this. What a wonderful poems parade. :)

Anonymous said...

Dhitzunako, corrections are made, thanks for letting me know.

Thank you everyone for stopping by!

Rekha said...

These are some really remarkable pieces of thought and emotion...the ones I read at the very least...will come back for more...

Lena said...

It was a marathon read but I got there eventually! A fabulous collection that would do a paperback proud!! Well done administrators!

Anonymous said...

Rekha, Lena your time and kind words are really appreciated, The Rally team is glad to have you here!

Short Poems said...

Really beautiful collection!
Enjoyed it :)

Dishilicious said...

thank you :)

Anonymous said...

Im saying yes to all questions. :) added my link already.

Anonymous said...

Hi, i don't where to post, but I want to inform you guys that i'm done with the 18 (and more :) )KUDOS to all the people who organize and participate. happy rally every one.

Mary said...

I just added my link. I agree to the above, and my poem was also in Poetry Potluck. I hope that's ok. Thanks for the forum!

The Muse said...

Greetings to you~ Thank you for stopping along life's path and offering a kind hello on my poetry diary. I think your site has a very upbeat following, and it is marvelous to so many participate. i am glad you are helping bringing the bond of writers...closer.

Blaga said...

Thank you for letting us know! You should post comments on the post where the links are, but I'll give the messages to Jingle! Mary, no problem if your poem has been to Potluck too! Enjoy Rally guys!

JamieDedes said...

Blaga, thank you for your work on this. Well done as always.


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