...kites, roses and apple pie
(A repost from 2014...edited)


In life, in deeds,
You have been, still are, courageous
In your words, in your creeds,
I say you are all so sweet,
Infectious,
You all are contagious!
Just a single line of your words
Would surely, quickly be re-quoted.
You are exemplary in
Whatever you say or do...

Enlightened are those with furrowed brows
Upon reading your works,
Commendations,
And acclamations
Bothered by ideas and words
So foreign and difficult...
Clarifications,
simple explanations
Readily are provided...
One need not ask...

Like well respected, learned leaders,
Actions, words are emulated.
You are sweet...
You are infectious...
You are contagious!

If you were colorful kites,
Soaring up the blue skies
You would have so many tails
Hanging, trailing behind you...
Here in our world
Your followers  are like ants
Trailing your footsteps...
Never straying, not at all waning,
But multiplying.....

In a bed of roses,
Bees, birds and butterflies
Would never stop fussing
Endlessly buzzing
From up above, and all around you...
Taking all their needs,
Not forgetting themselves to feed,
To recreate, from your seeds
these, they are bound to heed...

Now,  
If you were a plate of fresh,
Yummy and crusty apple pie,
With a scoop of ice cream on top..
Oh me, oh, my....
I may not forget these three men,
But....I am bound to starve...
Pardon me, but...
Surely, I would be oblivious
The first one to be ravenous
To the point of being outrageous
Can't stop...can't wait...
This is my moment:
As long as I have a mug of hot brewed coffee
I shall take my time...
I won't feel choked,
Won't even be thirsty...
Voraciously, I would finish the whole plate off...
Til crust and crumbs fill me with too much stuff...

::::::::::::

For the Triumvirate of Bala, Nat and Pradip...

in alphabetical order, no one comes first or last... for these three are
      all soaring high in their respective styles of poetry...

there are many others worth mentioning, a plethora of names and styles, in fact...
    


Sally

Copyright 2014
rrab

i’m terrified
because i know
one day i’ll die

not just my body
but my memory
everything that remains of me

one day i’ll truly die
nobody will whisper my name again
and i’ll become

irrelevant

insignificant

unimportant

someday, nobody will think of me ever again
all i was
all i wish i could be
all i will be

will mean nothing.

I suppose
I feel
that it is possible for soulmates
to feel each other's sadness
if so
then I want to cut the thread between us
so my soulmate won't feel mine
but I don't want to cut it either
because I would want to feel theirs
and lighten it with them

But I guess that
there is always certain sacrifice
we have to make
to find our other halves
to complete ourselves

we are fire
i am the orange ember, the coldest part of the flame
you are the white hot tip of at the head of the match head
it sometimes flickers blue

you are blue
i hate blue, i always have
i am red
making purple sounds like a delightful endeavour
but i am reminded of the love bite (why are they called that)
that you left
it was purple, it hurt for weeks
it turned green

i hate you.
i hate blue.
i hate the white flame.