touch warm wind summer mist sage spice
melt salt skin moon glow pale white
eyes chocolate fire five fingers brush face
lips parted ocean blue water tongue taste
hands fumble rip tremble buttons quick eager
sweat dirty sweet skin bone blind fever
one rise soar sky wind breathe high
one sink cave stone dark deep dive
twist tangle grasp hair pull nip scratch
key lock door shades drawn open latch
breathe quick speak hum soft satin whisper
rhythm run river rush afterglow glisten
You take up all the s p a c e in my head
fragments of you, in there, till I’m dead
I want to wrap my arms around you
like the mist surrounding a mountain
or the earth beneath the sea
and the way you look at me
is enough to make the stars shine
My child I waited
Slowly I drag
My restless body
Up to my bed
Softly I hear a
Whisper from God
"How are You.?
"I waited for You all day."
"Why,? didn't you come."
"My child I long for us to
spend time together."
"But You forgot
to say hello."
"I Waited and waited
Until the sunset faded.
And still, I never heard
your foot steps."
Sunrise appears with the morning
"My rainbow mist shines on your brow
Draping a curtain of love on your face
I wrap my comfort blanket of grace
around all your brokenness and pain".
I see all your tears
"My child come to me now."
Quickly I leave my room
And run to the nearest exit
To a beautiful wonderful
Free from pain
No more suffering
I am free at last
Slowly drifting on a mass
of white fluffy clouds
I am greeted by to glorious
Angels dressed in golden gowns
Waiting to escort me to the most high.
Like a kiss that’s sweet
And a bite that’s raw
It’s the only thing I feel
The only thing I have
I’d die without
But it’s choking me
Like a mist to cool the pain
And a fire to scorch my brain
Is all bullshit lies
Worn out cries
Something I love and despise.
The winter has set in early; monsoon a memory now,
the trees are all dusty by the all-day din.
This morning, the taxis ply early, eager to get the office-goers in.
Tea fumes in the mist.
The lady in the bungalow alights from her car
with her child, early from school.
Vegetables still asleep on the pushcart.
An eighties number mingles with the wind.
A van loaded with kerosene cans parks at the gates:
there is a tenement at the basement.
This is a cubist poem, which I later discovered is much in the style of Pierre Reverdy.
My mind is unclear
Fog is within the mist of whats dear
Fighting with the enemy inside
Searching for the original mind
And wipe away
The day they operated on his brain
he imagined it as his day of poetry
freedom from the pain of living,
and heard a train reciting a long poem
on love, nightmares and death
by a Chilean poet he adored,
whose name he tried to recollect, over and over again
but his train of thoughts curiously missed
that one station in each, separate attempt.
Did he hear anyone whispering anything about 'bad omen'?
reminding a poet killed by a dose of poison
injected by the doctor treating him
to end the emotional domination of
his poetry over the mind of millions
- and then he slowly lost orientation
in delirious state he fell in to a pit of delight and thought
about the white luminant mist poetry, has created in his being,
all through the days of suffering love gifted him.
He received poetry as a feeling, deep, deep inside,
Emily Dickinson was to him a fragrance enveloping his consciousness,
then a feeling inexpressible, an elation, leading him to a plane higher.
His brain was a night filled tunnel, through which
the train reciting dark poems of stark beauty of death
traveled like lightening, he sat perplexed looking
at a mirror someone held before him, reflecting darkness, an eerie feeling.
That night train wailing as if someone dear has left for ever
traveled through the surreal plane of Dali paintings.
"Life", a unfamiliar voice proclaimed aloud near him,
"Is poetry written in one's blood, which one fails
to read as it is dangerously close to one's suicide note,
that one finishes reading only at the last minute".He hoped
they must have finished his surgery by now;
it was getting dark, a kind of mist spreading like a swarm of evil beetles,
but they were still at it, panic reigned
on the operation table. His face was peaceful
immobile like the wings of a dead butterfly.
Breaking the News
Be solid as I speak with you.
Like the Gibraltar impersonate.
Let it be as though you Are.
Be as a child unknowing.
As calm as morning mist.
"Its your Mother....she's"
Need not finish as your ears
Hear the tones that began as Spoken.
And I can be a pillar
If like the Roman,
But like the Roman gone.
As if to pin point a
In a soul powered mortal acting
Calmly as the wind blowing
Away the dreams that
Haunt during dark times.
" I'm sorry for your loss..."
This is Atlas with the weight
Of the world. At present
Inside the torment of the
Moment dumped on the shoulders
With gravitous news.
Hangup! Hang up the emotions
If only for a while
And cascade into tears
Of healing remembrance
Of the truth that is
Sonnet XXXVI: Oft have I seen the mist at peep of dawn
Oft have I seen the mist at peep of dawn,
A white curtain or shroud it veils the sky;
Whilst morning dews collect upon the lawn,
And birds begin to sing and start to fly.
Morning wakes up the flowers from their sleep,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds;
Swallows twitt'ring, the Angels watch do keep,
O listen to the tinkling of the folds.
Every morning I see the Sun's ray,
I watch the dawn fade into afternoon;
Soft gentle breezes make the flowers sway,
The day so swiftly ends—I see the moon.
How manifold are Thy blessings O Lord!
How many notes of praise from nature's chord!
Hovering above, thoughts absorb within a cloud
formed by fear and questions that lurk
profusely raining down on my mind aloud
there's no clarity seen through the murk
Unsure if my own thoughts even exist
influenced by others getting in my head
assisting fears, with no answers forms mist
this clouded mind is why I'm misled
The opening for others input has closed
as the raining thoughts of theirs subside
the answers left behind have been disposed
now my mind, the decisions I decide
With a chain around my own fears
my mixed thoughts locked, can now converge
as the once dense fog slowly clears
through the cloud of uncertainty, I emerge.