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You and Me

August 6th, 2008 by admin in Poem

Do you know what the man in the dream told me?

Do you know what the winter rain showed me?

Do you know why an angel with your aura

visited me?

No “reason” anyone will know or understand!

but …you and me!

As the stars in the heaven shoots and travel

far away…

to the tune of our songs, but, no one can ever hear or see

as everyone pass us by with deafness, blindness

to the sound, to the light

to their souls

to their lives

No “reason” anyone will know or understand!

but …you and me!

In the darkness when you whispered and I smiled

to what you said!

when your lips touched my lips in a stormy crazy way

I forgot who am I!

I forgot where am I!

I forgot what to say!

As my mind suddenly stopped …and died

straight away!

As the soldier who really died with no cry

left his boots and uniform so determine not to
die

as we watched him far away beyond the truth

that is how why we know what is the “truth”

it is the secret

in our spirits

in our hearts

No “reason” anyone will know or understand

but …you and me!

Do you know what the waves in the sea told me?

Do you know what the sun at dawn showed me?

Do you know why a baby in the crowed smiled
and smiled …at me?

No “reason” anyone will know or understand

but … you and me!

Altawell

18 July 2006

Altawell 2006

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I make myself man
each time I create
setting, character, tone
in a poem
create poetic sense
disclose my natural being
playing five senses
my distortions and inversions
evolve in history and society
to save the man in me
through poetry of self

The seed of my song
lies deep in memory
like paddy in field

blooms ages when wind
blows inside out and grows
genes in womb, turns self

A poem is madness
unique fascination
liberating language
re-creates, re-symbolises
disfiguring the known
secured norms
inverting the safe
existence

When sleepless poetry
fails to negotiate night
I wait for white dreams

The halo of my vision
is the Mothers gaze:

he whom I seek is
hidden in her eyes

shedding hope and love
all around her mercy

Love is my prison
and freedom both
in her presence
my wish her wish

to be everything
her shiva and
shakti a dual-single
me and she, one

Love leads to beauty
and vision with perfection
pillar of dust or

fleeting shadow can
turn into light revealing
pure songs wrought out of

the clay blending joys
in naked passion seek signs
of self-discovery

roving with delight
and perfume of fellowship
in valley of peace

Life limits between
whence the sun rises and where
it goes to relax:
joys of a fleeting moment
I see Aditi in her eyes

Love without clothes
without bone has
a joy within:
soft smooth and full

like the mind
creative and
erogenous

It hangs like a drop
any moment evaporate
love is gullible

When I inhale in
your mouth and exhale stroking
hairs or caressing
I ride you into joy and
make you hail the morning like earth

Rocked or burning within
poor performer
turns the hell inside out

cant dance on a taut rope
with fragile legs
enjoy flames of passion

love is a high explosive
not charged by
induced sexuality

Frosted faces dissolve in
stale rain clutching
female body and

poached contexts dizzyingly slip
from a vineyard
wholl treat them angels?

How can a poet
pierce through tamed passages
in the wolves psyche

too scared to peep:
in the walled academy
they lope with cold eyes

shielding some dumb myths
or haunted by empty hunts
parrying moments of truth

Theres nothing comfortable in the chilly gray wind and
what burns at the wintry end in Holi splash of colours
unglow what might have been left in ransacked ashes
they all witness the last shot of season in transition
like bare-branched trees unrelieving miseries of truth
in the unspirited campus and inscrutable shades

Winter is caught in
waves of narrow discussions
under the blanket
fingers move by nipples erect
without sensing consummation

I feel alone
like a wandering bird
without a nest:

empty without flame
the cave of the heart reeks of
forsaken island

Each day I construct
my self in new desires and
end in emptiness

a hollow shadow
I move in dust and rest in
stony webs of haze

In a grey morning
Its a foggy silent world
The stink of darkness

whenll the gulf open
stir the still horizons red
and swallow the wood

It needs heat
to eject a seed
and ripen to fruit:

mind makes its image
with imprints dumped in
forging rhymes

Bones of levity criss-cross
at the bottom of silence
there is no shape in the mind

As I did not earn my cross
they cheated me when
I bought it to pray

the satan sought my consent
to sin in silence
I was duped again

Memory fades
like her body
in dim light

I bury my head
in open hands
to escape noises

Is it the heat wave
or stupor that I see
shadows in the dark
and call it vision?

Summer turns prettier
after dust storm or rain
night alloys with cool colours

The colour of night is the same everywhere
what if my identity is not known
lets fuck the moment and forget the place

Waking up from a drugged sleep
I remember I was a butterfly
or butterfly dreamt me?

a sun away the brown of the walls
seemed flying with her shawl
and I couldnt overlook

I hunt a forgotten scene
outside the dusty road in summer
the flowers yellow and die

This morning autumn moves in the pool
I watch the deciduous trees and leaves decay
the air whirling with dust

the drains are choked and my forehead
smudged like the stained table:
the more I clean the more dirty

and the slow sun smiles in the backyard
over the bony back of a stray cow
I look for a bit of green at my door

but goats have jumped the fence
theres just one papaya flower
and remains of ber parrots dropped

its the same old agony in changing hues:
should I steal colours from butterflies
or contract prayers in their little wings?

From stony breaches
by roadside erupt
wild plants and creepers

through moss search their trellis
perhaps mime my attempts
at survival against

broken fences flinty knots
and shapeless shades in evening

The river walks without shoes
unsinging the nights hooligans
that scamper across the city

unbreasted years ago for
hawks of peace now midgeted
to amuse mornings that gaol

all fire and thoughts smitten by stones
of figures-to-be hewing
new melodies by black grass

past my shadow overarching
all listening and light and cliff
that hang the tale or pain the legs

no matter I walk without
the rest of the ground I tread
like river droning days ashes

The frog in mirror
slips by damp towel
cold sets in slippy hands

rain flows on windows
black water crawls down
like diseased reptiles

why scrub the smelly
underbellies
theres no paradise

With blurred landscape
painting dust all around
they become dust
fail to live life
hiding it from others
from themselves fail

The mask of man they paint
with so many fingers as brushes
mans only colour now

They hide the mirrors
with rose and lipstick
and keep their fiction

Apple, snake and three-fifths of me
in bed manipulates man
inside selfish rubbles

Growing hair on soul
man longs for known grooves of death
safe in sterile womb:

loving, impotent
lost in vanity and self-
commiseration

How many defy
the space between
sleep and leap

I hear sounds
of cracked mirrors
and torn veils

Crazy these people
dont know how to go
down with the swirl and
up with the whirl but
play in the raging water:
who can find the green dragon
lost in the yoni without?

Your black sunglasses
conceal the face that reveals
the real you in sun

Face lotus
tongue sandal
manners sweet

heart scissors
I know him
seasoned crook

We are a nation
of cowards worshiping dumb
images cant stand
a full-fleshed person speaking
nude in gods home like in bed

performing love with
wife or self in dark alone
ever ignorant

moralising
hell of fear
with legs tucked up
posing brave

Fear in the mind
runs us this way
and that reaching
nowhere spitting
anger against wind
singing threnodies
or cursing fate

Cant you drop your saree
and all that conspires to conceal
your nudity, my love

forsake your modesty
and see the naked passion in
my eyes seeking freedom

to unite and transform
the night through bodys dark alleys
dont you love your freedom?

Scratching between his legs
he creeped towards the fence
and said something to her

gawd, in a minute
I see her tending the blouse
half-hidden by roses

He presses her skin
or tastes the salty sweat
night singes genes in bed
loves eunuch game turns in
dreams to feed ignorance
leaning on sticky backs
of dead orisons

She put him off each time
he caressed her or
tried to kiss or crossleg
even bought her presents
to make her agree
but she wont care
till he raised the stick
and tamed her in bed

They make moments memorable
with quarrels over nothing
reduce relations to relic

A woman should complement
not complicate wanting love
and freedom both with sweetness

of the bone in mouth or
frenzied riding high or
grinding pubic regions

giving more and getting more
she must sound like a cologne
not sin or magic bullet

Woman is the flesh
and spirit of poetry
eternal love thirst

growing younger as
one grows older day by day
perfecting the body

An undressed woman
is a form to lay bare
the vulnerable
in myriad colours:
live sensuous delicious
like true sex exposing
naked truths through body
peep into ever
growing consciousness

Not with physical eyes
not in sleep or dream
nor in madness or in
hidden place or peace
but in imageless state
beyond human self
with eyes of the sipirit
when symbols one sees
visions are seen as grace

The split in cypress
is vulva I know the roots
purush-prakriti

call it Yin and Yang
our basic sex, lingam and
yoni harmonise

like lotus rising
from the depths of lake through mud
crossing existence

The fig of life with
roots above and branches below:
man and woman one

Dragons play whirlwind
among the clouds meet and rain
unite earth and sky

The mount of venus
rises above the mars
and unites on my palm
like a horse and elephant

Like a womans mind
resides between her thighs joy
and satisfaction

mans love and hatred
concentrate on the crevice
though he watches face

she laughs when I say
love and beauty is nothing
but sabre and sheath

In the lake of your eyes
I saw him drowning
but, who was the fisher
that netted him out?

In the forest of your hair
my finger searches
the little pearl of blood
that stirs the hidden waters
and contains my restlessness

I smell my boneless
semen under the pillow
weaving legends in

half-dream along her
hips as I curl like rainbow
dying winds splash down blots

The remains of morning
like the remaining work stare:
my pen is cold to words

in bed I keep with her
wondering what Id haul in our
burning, sleek, empty sex

now minds dried with dry hive
I cant create with bald head:
sky showers ashes of rose

The highwayman lies
to rob a moon with skull
whipping up valour:

she unzips her skirt
like the silkworm undoing
its yellow cocoon

My hand
held out in the dark
remained empty:

none reached it
to give joy of
the meeting hands

I dont know when or how cracks grew for love to fall through
but memory waves obstinately:
her thoughts recur even after the emptiness of
the sky blares and I cant hide numbness of the year
before Bulli but her coming to me
just to revive those moments of togetherness
in lovely valley turns cold and apathetic
sun rushes in home and sudden silence
is all that echoes in new years handshake with me

She wont understand
and force him yeah
always after hours
wishes of death and
shouts and blames
would ache his anger
in the testicles and
again she would tame
her man in bed
not knowing
what he has become

A meanest moment
of eternity it was
when I was conceived

after 40 years
I see same degeneration
my mother saw first

empty of poetry
stoic, dull and diffident:
always puny game

with triple fury
winds return and put out light
what use watching god?

Before it heals or
scars merge with times endlessness
morning brings new wounds

is there a release
from unloving life day by day
breathing heartless air?

Everything is falling apart
every wall is cracking
I too am breaking

to be someone and to belong
drink in love like many
secured sure happy

I too want to live and be loved
not piece by piece, friends
but, will they let me?

After the days blaring
hymns and mantras loudspeakers
and tribal drums and dance

to please the lion goddess
in roadside Puja pandals
there reigns frigid silence

No one sings these days
songs dont come easily
life has lost music

Giant smoke from the factory
mates with perfumed dhoopam
rising from the trucks carrying Durga
in the afternoon Subarnarekha
is crowded with idols and people
absorb shocks with reverence
suffer dust, mud and stench

Who is a gentleman here
everyone speaks more
than one tongue in self-interest
ditch everyone or
turn disinterested
in excuse curse everyone
or say its bad luck

The glow of victory
is deceptive coming from
frail mans needs and tears

midnight sighing of poor
deprived of the tree of wealth
bare body, dry land

where is light and grace
in ravished image of struggle
midst mute mass and doubts?

Death in silence speaks
moonlight cleaves to the body
peace gropes for poems

In flames rise voices
of futility and dreams
in dust fear and love

Time is running out
cracks in walls develop fast
but I stay static

shrouded in cobweb
as if in dusk denying death
brooding slipped chances

Cant I grab a little
warmth, fresh air and love
simple, sound and innocent?

Im fed up playing
life across the net
shuttling nightmare in cold

The moon rises with
million stars in sky
but none worship

the dying sun says
how alone one is
sinking in glory

What good will happen
waiting to leach through old layers
no use stay put here:

the leaves have turned moth
we cross-leg with crabbed wishes
erase one more year

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When Eros Blows

August 6th, 2008 by admin in Poem

Swirling through her hidden trails.
It seeks the free and open fields.
Let go you sad and frightened trees.
Eros blows your brittle leaves.

The field is where the passion grows.
By mountains and their jealous hills.
Unseen but felt and little known;
ludus brings her greatest thrill.

The icy drifts of memories past;
erotic warmth for her at last.
Avalanche; emotions run.
Under that seductive sun.

Free to flow among her dreams.
Among the slopes she seeks to take.
Eros guides her every stream.
Pleasure fills intriguing lakes.

It moves the clouds; it moves the moon.
The ocean moves her hearts lagoon.
Mania drives forgotten waves.
The tides are strong; its been so long.

Convolving deep within her mind.
Erosion of those hardened doubts.
She feels so good; he takes his time.
Eros takes desires route.

Natures will has been conceived.
Her fantasies have been retrieved.
Eros lifts their souls by force.
No one knows their present course.

So my dear, I speak with hope; deep within your painful lull.
Listen close among the trees and seek to hear the urging breeze.
Wait upon your secret hush; wait upon its sudden rush.
No two hearts will ever know, of when it wants to come or go.

But when it does, youll surely know
your loneliness will have to go
the time when Eros blows.

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Entangled In You

August 5th, 2008 by admin in Poem

We common strands, once alone.
Sought a weave to call our own.
At times too tight, at times too loose.
A chance to tie the lovers noose.

You bound me by your woven charm.
You fastened me within your arms.
Bound by fate no strings were spared.
Lost within your luring hair.

Our minds were twined in quite a twist.
Your eyes began to twist my wrist.
Lassoed by seductive threads.
Encased within erotic webs.

Around our goals we held on tight.
As ropes we held with all our might.
We held through wind; held through rain.
We held those loads, meant for chains.

Weighted times, strained our knots.
Holding down our burdened freight.
Even chains can sometimes break.
Over time a dry-ness rot.

Frayed by pain; fibers cold.
Over time we could not hold.
Unraveled by our circumstance.
Without deplore, we took our chance.
Within our risk; excitement spent,
do not forget the days we lent

the way you chose to tangle me
the chance I had to tangle you…
a time when love, entangled two.

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Elements Clack Silence

August 5th, 2008 by admin in Poem

WISDOM

I always dreamt the world
as one and thought I belonged
but none let me live

my simple soul at home
with differences
they kicked me into exile

for their prejudices
forced me seek my nest
in myself

I share the wisdom
of peace and life in tune
with nature

WIT AND SOUL

A Matisse or Picasso
only complicates
the secrecy of your face

I dont understand
you, your body, or the nude
even if I touch

hold your hand or sleep with you
sharing long kisses
the mystery of the dark womb

your mind and silence
hardly make up love we seek
squeezing wit and soul

REALIZATION

Men or women
no living gods:

the soul has no sex

the form, the body
and the name unreal

the climax of eternity
denudes the mind

DREAMS SHROUD

Theres no meaning
in being cold and groan:

silence frightens
between the acts

who cares how much
I care and love

forgetting wrinkles
in the lone pool

dreams shroud the gloom
unburnt in sun

SOME TRUTHS NOT SPOKEN

I dont know how
the bones grow in the womb
still in darkness

elements clack
in the small house shudder
the harp and strings

the heartbeats pronounce
the balance of nature
against heat wind rain

look for bodys love-
the mystery song echoes
some truths not spoken

GOD, SEX, AND THE WORLD

Its part of prayer
to love the lingam kissed
or kiss it to feel

the creators pulse
for a moment
thank the body too

that houses the spirit
we seek in His name
for relief and salvation

through the cycle
of day and night
meeting and departing

learning and unlearning
each moment synthesizing
god, sex, and the world

SHIVAS THIRD EYE

gods sin against God
betray creation
break covenant

Shivas third eye opened
fire burnt out by Fire

Agni defiled sexact
outraged love in action
sacrileged union

they still peep in privacy
fear fire, question freedom
dictate codes for love

worship lingam
forget Shiva

FRESH FUTURE

Where will we reach
sailing in a coffin

or dreaming to anchor
off the rainbow arch

the gold and purple ashes
wont revive the phoenixes

lost in myths and stories:
we need to recoup

the elements balance
and create new suns

and moons that could light the cave
and begin a fresh future

UNHEARD NOTES

The unfilled spaces
tell of what we miss or fail
to sense between days

moments of hurry
seek life with spirit and hear
unheard notes of love

NIRVANA-I

It doesnt end even if I abandon desire:
non-suffering is no key to nirvana

in the maze of unliving the past and passions
and novel delusions of mind and fears

the itch and sensations, growing degenerations
of island existence in dimming light

life only freezes; the foul of stagnant pool
yet the hope of lotus rises with sun

HOPE OF DIVINITY

The falsity of the sky is more real than the earths
lies cant sustain hope of divinity

we have complicated with poesying
private hells to mitigate flow of time

that couldnt carve heaven: we harbour histories
of broken promises and fallen gods

lament men and women buried in light
now soulless, bodyless, traceless we look

upward and whittle continents from clouds
hanging generations that may never be

NIRVANA-II

The sky frightens with lightning and rain
raises neither fire nor quenches the earth

Ive lost a chance to create despite ritual
end of the day and her parting with a kiss:

now sulking with a glass in the dark
its stupid to talk about nirvana

UGLINESS

I am no Moses receiving
Gods message in lightning or thunder

none recognize me in the dark
nor can I see any without light

the cyst on my neck constantly
reminds me of the ugliness

the whitening chest and pubic hair
tell of the death of my potential

the earth needs timely spells of rain
and elements saved from human fears

I must redraw my dreams and visions
to brave life and the intriguing future

NUDE ORIGIN

It was dark before being born:
I love the light after birth
the eden on the earth

I may not know where I go
after living the hard life
but I know the freedom

get back to what God gave us
in love let life shape anew
from the nude origin

MAN OR ANIMAL

Some animals are buried
and some rot on the highway
unrecycled by vultures

uneaten by worms but run
over by wheels that dont care
the shitman or animal

SNAKE

Hiding or waiting
it raises its head when least
expected, a snake

glitters in the eyes:
looks for the moment to slip
and reveal the fangs

I AM TOO SHORT

The creeping termites
in the center raise castles
to house snakes and frogs

even seeds birds drop
for rains to nurture sometime
in uncertainties

I cant clear the ground:
the holes gape through tall grasses
and I am too short

RIVERS SONG

With steel flow
the rolling water
pierces the rocks
and shapes them into stars

the sun and the moon fail
to match its sharpness
the wailing of the rocks
turns into rivers song

HELPLESSNESS

Walking along the sandy edge
he blames the wind or cloud
and yields to the alchemy
of seasonal allergies

plastic flowers couldnt keep time
moving in his house:

he remains restless
with fears and uncertainties
grows walls of alienation

suffering images
of strangeness every moment
or sensing shade of a nude
survives their helplessness

LONG TRIP

Ageing he thinks of
the ashes and the long trip
ahead in spirit

feels the earth he would
become celebrating life
as good as ever

THE BEES WONT RETURN

When flowers have dried
who will feed the bees
that hum for honey

or feel the hands
that tend honeycombs
of orange groves

they may meet
to recall
the golden days

and even tune
a new hymn
to dispel the spell

or whatever caused
the hives burial
in smoky hush

but I know
the bees wont return
to naked trees

EROTIC SCARS

Sleeps the night with
desires wrapped in blanket
spring in the eyes

gods couldnt change the rhythm
of the body and its needs:
erotic scars stick

TRANSITION

Coming out of the room
they smile to think theyre not
what they were before
nor would they ever be
the same again even if
they wanted to be

ECHOES AND SILENCE

What are they

but a promise and fulfillment

in this world

mere sex

and sex

must be venerated

even as a poetic truth

disregarding

the strong urge

or fear so vehement

sometimes

they may look for the deaf and dumb

for relief

on back streets

or beside overhead tanks

what matters

is the spring music

playing about the edges

a flood of memories

through rack and weeds

tending the will

to become a garden

with echoes and silence

SEEKING INNOCENCE

She doesnt understand
my icy pain in dark

when she denies
the body doesnt die

theres no seeds for birth
the shell can be broken

I seek to revive
not youth but innocence

DONS IN FOUR WALLS

The house may collapse any day
the walls are cracked
the chinks gape at the base
but none care

they maintain dignity
with cosmetic protection
demand patience and practice
duplicity till their own end

in meanness evoke mystery
to quell good sense and concerns
for the future buy silence
of the dons in four walls

IT HARDLY HELPS

Theres little to sustain the past
looking beautiful each day

as we bury it or review
over a drink with strangers

who dont know and would forget soon
but we are our own judge

no one learns from others
and it hardly helps to teach

HEAVEN ON EARTH

Cloning miracles
with the nights discharge
in condoms

the political golfers
hit for divinity
in measured pace

take a long suck
to climax with myths
sown in the mud:

write a new history
with gods whose guff promises
a heaven on earth

TERRORISM

Each day ends in fear
of one or the other kind:
living in uncertainties
its life in death

and here they are
selling dreams
and winning votes

their proactive politics
adds to the list of
dead and dying

they may or may not sleep
in high security houses
but it will be too late
by the next election

IF THEY ORDER

Sitting in AC rooms
they do not know the cost
of failed adventure:

there wont be martyrs
for empty struggle tomorrow
they may all be shot

if they order the soldiers
to march to snowy mountains
never to return

POLITICS DEFIES SILENCE

Do they ever see themselves
their truth inside the mirror?

sound too much anger and hate
burn humans and homes to teach

lessons never learnt but played
the communal card for rights

no god granted. Their petty
politics defies silence

I DONT ENDORSE

I dont endorse their pact
to squeeze adulation and

control faith of the masses
to shed blood and spread darkness:

idols may draw crowds to kill
and the spell may not last long

the temple doesnt attract me
I want to forget the myth

after the fascists owned him
Ram has ceased to be God

NUDE BEILEF

I dont want to mount
the hardships of the sky
if the earths labour pain
is false or the action
stillborn with or without
scalpel the doctor
humiliates process
and I hate the crime
of creating god
on the ramp betraying
models too nave
to be worshipped
for nude belief

HELPLESSNESS-II

I have no magical power
to change my restlessness
into glory radiating
peace or purpose in living:

they give me no room to better
men or myself but condemn
as one hanged for nothing:
poets are no living lessons

I stand aside ruminating
what I couldnt do or be
or await miracles through
circles and zigzags of the mind

even corrupt faith and curse
destiny for the maze
of my own making and yet say
I know the spirits upward fire

LEECHES

At the end of the day
when I look back and see
my knowledge and insight
rusting with ageing colleagues
I pity my age and wish
to give up; I cant change
the means and ends frustrate
the will to work any more

I want to rest now burying
ambitions and achievements
that ache the soul and make
empty sounds in the hollow
of a hallowed pond long doomed
for marrying self-indulgent
elites and idiots
sucking generations

WHEN I STOPPED

If my world couldnt be
what I had thought in my teens
I cant help. I was
dependent on my father

a self-made man against
the currents I couldnt read
the sky and its stronghold

the prints of the Gangas sand
have faded like the rainbow
in a spray of years
that pricks like pebbles

now the caries, cavities
cyst and myopia haunt
and sexual anxieties
disturb sleep and dreamless nights

The hairs on my balding head
mirror the laughter
I have ceased to take note of

I have ceased to peel
the ugly shapes, the cunning
and treacherous I work with

Resent my identity
and the future I fail
spinning influences

yet Im sure when I stopped
it wont be all that bad:
my vision would still be good
I would still smell fresh air

Copyright:
Dr R K Singh
Professor & Head
Dept of Humanities & Social Sciences
Indian School of Mines
Dhanbad 826004
India

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Sunset at Scarborough

August 4th, 2008 by admin in Poem

When you saw

The Golden Sun

Setting on the Sea

At Scarborough

And you thought of me, my love

I felt wonderful

Being a part of the text

That you sent me

Being a part of your memory

As you remembered me

Being a part of that

Moment in Time

When the Golden Sun

Was setting

On the Sea

At Scarborough.

As you stood there

In the Balcony

On the 22nd Floor

Of your Hotel-Room

Gazing at the

Swirling waters of the Sea

Radiant and Vibrant

In the oranges and reds

Of the Setting Suns

Majestic Charisma -

The waves and the tides

Playing hide and seek

With the lovely bright colours

Of the Setting Suns

Enchanting Enigma

I thought of your eyes

Yes those very beautiful

Eyes of yours,

With those long eyelashes

That make your eyes

All the more expressive, deep

And enchanting

Like the Setting Suns

Ethereal Beauty

In that evening sea

At Scarborough

I felt like kissing those eyes

Yes those very same eyes

Tired and aching

After a hard days work

Seeking some relaxing moments

To rejuvenate itself

In the Setting Suns

Evening Glory

On the Scarborough Sea

Before they again endure

Another ordeal of

Another Days

Hard Work.

So my love, please accept my kisses

For they are truly meant for you

More so, for those lovely eyes of yours

Hope these kisses of mine

Help to preserve your wonderful memories

Of the setting suns myriad hues

What a beautiful way to bid adieus

As it goes deep down

Far beyond the horizon

Into the lows and highs

Of the waves and tides

On the Scarborough Sea.

And here across the miles

I wait for that auspicious moment, my love

When you and me together

Will sit and talk and share

Of how you felt at Scarborough

And how I felt being there with you

In my thoughts, dreams

And fantasies

And as youll unravel

Those preserved memories

Of the Setting Suns

Myriad Glories

Ill listen and ponder

Like a child in wonder !

Wondering at the Suns

Colourful Hues

Those Brilliant Views

Wondering at the Splendour

Of you being there before me

With your beautiful eyes

For me to see

You - the Radiant Sun for me

And I - the deep, deep sea

Waiting for you to set on me

Aparna Chatterjee 2007

http://www.aparnaonline.com/scarborough.html

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Another Message

August 4th, 2008 by admin in Poem

Another message I got from you today. Echos of love, mercy and grace.
Founded since time began. Your are my mother my father and my friend.

You have placed you spirit into my very soul. You are ancient of days, but never old.
I created an ego and wished that you had left. Looking to blame others all besides my self. Creating worlds that did not exist. Wake me up Lord!, get me out of this mess.

I have ben snarled and trapped by the things that I have created. I rejected the truth of the spirit an became self proud and elevated. I looked down my nose with a smirk and a self-righteous grin , not knowing that pride was the greatest sin.

I gave of myself to get what you got. Buying and selling to take your lot. I win you loose. Why not? Because Im ego and youre not. A common cause was never my claim Now I realize that we are the same.

One spirit and hope through eternity, helped me refocus my love ad distribute it for free. This was your command to love and be free. At first this was hard, but your spirit guided me . Great Jehovah feed me with you sweet words from above. Quench my thirst, with the waters of life. Forever will I remember your sacrifice. Thank you again.

I got the message that you sent today. I received it in my spirit and this is where it will stay.

Born in Shreveoort Louisiana. Moved to Baton Rouge Louisiana at age 20. Now I live in Humble Texas. I have a B.A. in Philosophy. Currently employed by The Department of the Treasury. Married with Children. I love to write and tell stories. I am a church Deacon. Everyone that I meet is a friend. I see life as an opportunity to learn to explore and of course to write.

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What Everyone Should Know About Inspirational Poems

August 4th, 2008 by admin in Poem

What Everyone Should Know About Inspirational Poems

Inspirational poems are everywhere. They line the walls in churches and community centers. They sit neatly above the seats on city buses. They appear in magazines and on the inside flaps of countless non-fiction bestsellers. Inspirational poems are used to motivate those with illness, those who have lost someone, those who are depressed, or merely those who are on a diet. The inspirational poem is the perfect message, designed to share just the right balance of everything someone needs to hear at a hard time.

How an Inspirational Poem Inspires

Inspirational poems are so effective because they can unlock the secrets of human emotion and motivation unlike any other forms of poetry. A well written inspirational poem displays multiple levels of insight that no other art form can claim, allowing their readers to step inside the shoes of someone who understands what they are going through. To those that have been through a particularly intense or disturbing emotional trauma, an inspirational poem asserts that they are not alone and that the world is an essentially good place, one in which they will find peace.

Inspirational Poems for Different Times

There are plenty of different times in which someone might need the assistance of a truly poignant poem. These instances are often not the best moments in their lives and if you have ever been in such a position, you know how hard it can be. So, finding the right words to relieve some of that stress or worry is a great gift. These writers have all contributed to the canon of inspirational poems, helping to make those people in a hard place feel better about themselves.

Where to Turn for Truly Inspirational Poems

The list of writers who have written inspirational poems in their life is very long. Each one has something to offer in their words that few others can because they lived entirely different lives. The poets of our lifetime take much of what they learned from the inspirational words of those that came before, both in life and in the art of poetry.

William Wordsworth was considered one of the premiere English poets of the 19th century, writing prolifically in the romantic style of the time. Serving as the English Poet Laureate for seven years, his work has been cited repeatedly as a source of great inspiration. “Daffodils” is a particular popular poem written by Wordsworth that displays that very inspirational style.

Famous for his mastery of the English language and an idol to many of the Victorian poets whose work is still read in classrooms today, Percy Bysshe Shelley was another Romantic poet who wrote great inspirational works. His long piece, “The Cloud” is a classic example of elaborate allegory and detailed description designed to uplift the spirits.

While the romantic poets of the early 19th century wrote a great deal of inspirational poetry, there are hundreds more poets who freely shared their inspiration poems with the world.

Gray Ward loves to use poems to express his feelings for the right occasion, why not enjoy more articles and poems by visiting his website at http://www.poemanswers.com where you too will find the right poem for you.

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Making the Most of Your Poetry: PART 1 Eliminate Weak Words

August 3rd, 2008 by admin in Poem

Lovely lady
With the soft,
Sweet smile

Dont go away,
Stay with me
A while.

He found love
That dark
December day.

In a boat
By the
Bay.

*NOTE: This is my made-for-this-article poem so we arent hurting anyones feelings here.*

Lets pretend we are either editing this as our own or critiquing anothers poem (we should be equally honest when doing either only you should be kinder when critiquing someone elses work).

FIRST: Start with the good points. Um, well I only see one. It has some decent alliteration, which adds to the musical quality. Well, if you insist, Ill admit the rhyme isnt completely offensive but just barely.

When we look at the other side of this poetic picture hold it, thats a good point there isnt a picture, it has very little imagery and its packed with weak words.

Here wordy, wordy, wordy

How do you find weak words? It wont take binoculars, a bloodhound or a flashlight, just some practice.

First, you need to decide what exactly you want your reader to see, hear and feel when they read your poem. The poem above is wishy-washy and it lacks a point. Sure you can tell that love is involved, but thats mostly because the third stanza blatantly uses the word. Good romantic poetry doesnt need to mention the word love.

Next, you need to create a word picture first in your mind, then in the readers mind. This is where weak words will keep you from doing that in your poem.

Let me show you the weak words above and tell you how it has kept the picture muted.

–lovely
–soft, sweet
–dark

Lets start with the word lovely. How does it add to the poem? If you discount epics, poems are usually short, so you need to make each word count. Start by showing the reader how this lady is lovely. The word dark in the third stanza is weak in the same way.

The words soft and sweet are weak in a slightly different way. They arent strong or vivid words to begin with, and putting them together actually subtracts from their strength rather than adding to them. Use one or the other or better yet, find another one. Find one that says what you want to say by using a single strong word.

Remember, everyone uses weak words; its catching and editing them that will make the difference between an okay or decent poem and a good or great poem.

2006 Holly Bliss. All Rights Reserved. This document may be freely redistributed in its unedited form and on the condition that all copyright references are kept intact along with the hyperlinked URLs.

About the Author: Using her writing as paint on the canvas of her life, Holly Bliss is an eclectic writer, newsletter editor and an author on http://www.Writing.Com which is a site for Poetry.

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What Everyone Should Know About Friendship Poems

August 3rd, 2008 by admin in Poem

Poems have been written about nearly every topic under the sun, and next to love and death, friendship poems are among the most commonly read, written, and shared in the world. Unfortunately, a beautiful poem written in friendship can often result in a misunderstanding when it sounds very much like a love poem.

Regardless of the confusion, some of the worlds greatest poets have penned friendship poems for any number of their closest acquaintances, professional colleagues or distant relatives. When a poet feels close to someone, a natural response is to write a poem.

What Makes A Friendship Poem Special?

This is where confusion can often arise when describing the difference between a friendship poem and a love poem. Love poetry is most often the result of an extreme, powerful emotion, a written expression of the almost intangible sensation of love. On the other hand, friendship poems are more subdued, relying on personal references and expressions of caring. The difference is similar to what kind of gift you would buy for a girlfriend or boyfriend as opposed to a roommate or childhood buddy. One would hope they are not the same gift.

Great Friendship Poems

Great poets in history have made a habit of penning verses for each other in response to any number of personal relationships. It was their way of paying respect to their closest friends. If someone might buy a gift for a friend today, Shakespeare would have written that person a sonnet. Which is something Shakespeare did do on occasion. Sonnet 104, for example, speaks to a close friend with whom he treasures the three summers they spent together. The poem reads similar to many of his love sonnets, and in fact has been debated for some time as many believe it is in fact a love poem.

Friendship Poems as Metaphor

Other poets used friendship as a metaphor, comparing the closeness of a friend to any number of other experiences. For example, in Emily Dickinsons The Soul Unto Itself she wrote:

The Soul unto itself
Is an imperial friend
Or the most agonizing Spy
An Enemy could send

Secure against its own
No treason it can fear
Itself its Sovereign of itself
The Soul should stand in Awe

She is not writing about a close friend, but her own soul and the numerous masks it takes on. However, the same could be said about a close friend who is never quite as disarmed as we would like to believe.

Defining Friendship With a Poem

But then there are those poets who wrote friendship poems solely ruminating on the nature of friendship. Ralph Waldo Emerson can be attributed for dozens of memorable quotes about what it means to be a friend and wrote numerous friendship poems in turn. One of his most famous was the short but poignant Glory of Friendship which states:

The glory of friendship is not the outstretched hand,
nor the kindly smile nor the joy of companionship;
it is the spiritual inspiration that comes to one when
he discovers that someone else believes in him and is
willing to trust him.

He went on to write many other poems, such as the simply titled Friendship and the numerous letters he wrote to Thomas Carlyle, detailing his deep thoughts on the subject and the source for many of his works.

Friendship Poems Today

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You and Me

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Entangled In You

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Sunset at Scarborough

Another Message

What Everyone Should Know About Inspirational Poems

Making the Most of Your Poetry: PART 1 Eliminate Weak Words

What Everyone Should Know About Friendship Poems