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A fountain of tolerance
Burbling with gusto
And unending vigor.
If I loved you like I love myself,how'd existence be like?
All along the rain road,
Stopped, like a solitude ray
Escaping the glooms grasp,
Along the ways aglow,
Evening,
Perhaps morning,
Mixed waters in the midst
Of a formless cloud,
      Colored grey or under
The brightest light,

A wandering mind
Never at its now,
     Only then can he be,
Occupancy time
And bellowed grief through
   Mists of thought,
And luminous it may,
How stars see city's night,
    His cloud follows into
The sun,

All along rain road
Slithered in presence,
A wet summer heat
Forms in the cab still,
      Rolling in a flutters drop...
A little introspection is vital
Now and then
To correct what needs to be corrected
To accept what needs to be accepted.
we need to understand ourselves better... So study every detail about yourselves. Self help is much needed.
(a cluster of 10W)


T'was on a stroll
one cold and windy
autumn morning
:::::

palettes of colors
emerged...felt like
straying to another realm
:::::

roaming,
reluctantly
stepping on
leaves of brown
orange, yellow ochre.
:::::

t'was pure
conscience
that gave voice,
made plaintive cries
heard.
:::::

"cruel feet, ended
my fractured existence
i'm silenced,
i'm powerless.
:::::

my
brittle body,
broke into pieces,
like shredded
paper dreams.
:::::
:::::

come, strong
gusty winds,
fly me
to soft moist beds.
:::::

o, set me free
let me rest
peacefully,
permanently,
undisturbed.
:::::

in my absence
new
life
emerges,
light
heralds
new existence."
:::::
:::::

sun...rain
night............day
birth...­...........death
the    earth    is
  round.


Sally

Copyright September 22, 2017
rrab
why close
    the petals of your heart
       or shrivel in gloom  
        bury the worries    
         to inhale sacred
         scents of earth
            touched be
        by comely smiles
        of blooming lilies
           and struck be
        by delightful notes
              of robins
         perched on trees
           shines 'pon us
          the sun glorious
         our precious jewel
         of radiant warmth  
     abundant peace to seek
         for our weary being
    under the protective shed
        with twinkling stars
a rather simple poem to remind ourselves of joys of nature, something which is becoming increasingly alien to most of us in our daily living. wrote this when struck by an urge to run away from the concrete jungle into the woods :)
 Sep 2017 SøułSurvivør
L B
My grandparent's house
ten-kid-large and sinking
on the corners of remembrance
Remodeled now, to
...tenements

Honeycomb
...the remnants

Irish immigrant and Scottish orphan's child
She sang on the ferry
He fell in love
"The rest is the history of us...."
Wide
as the Connecticut River, grieving--
in their sunset....
____

This-- chair
is his

I am afraid of it-- of his learning
of the shiny badge pinned to his coat
of his dying...
Golden leather of it
soothes
his memory--
of another continent
of the once warmth-- of a distant hearth
so darkened now--
where his head once rested
...his hands
and,
I fear--
his mind....

I will not sit in it
as if he will come back, to take his place
I am afraid of him--
with his chair--
all worshipful and empty
like a high place, abandoned
to the heart attack
not for grandchild play
Seat of Authority
still stamped
beside the standing cold--
brass ashtray
Pipe smoke imagines itself
against the ceiling in the words
of Yates and Milton
He read to them
and somehow--

Paradise is Lost....
_____

This house is cold now-- even in the summer-- cold
Worn as only large families wear
The War
of waiting shadows
--four brothers who were spared

Anna Mae, in charge, too young,
worries in abrupt dark
of dinning room
Her face, haunted--
an archway-- ever empty
by the large and ghostly table
covered by its web of lace--
a bridal veil
of Catholic impossibility...
Anna Mae, held hostage by her thoughts
of darling, Sean...

Aunt Lil's “breakdown”
with cigarette and thorazine  
quaking quiet in her corner

Aunt Nell,
as blind as smart-*** hell
ironing, darning
with threads that thatch
the wounded socks
Holds it all together, scolding--
Brought the welcomed jelly donuts
sneered as Yankees clobbered Boston
all-- while drinking yellow ale

Uncle Eddie-- laughing hoarsely
cracks nuts over a wooden bowl
Both of my grandparents died a year apart in the midst of The Great Depression, leaving four of their kids below the age of twelve.  The family struggled through it and WWII that followed.

My Grandfather was a police officer as were a number of his descendants.

The house enfolded them, sending their stories like flares across the generations.
=================
Happiest
I
am
when
you are with me
lovely life
no waiting
you are still here

Written by
~~~Jawahar Gupta~~~
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