She comes forth
like waves slipping over
the sand
again and again
delivered from darkness
coveting the light

And light is her signature.
A conundrum.
Light erasing light.
How can this be?

I will tell you.

Light is the companion
of the dark
trips joyfully in its shadows

And this dance
weaves a potent tale
of a two-faced goddess
one face peering intently into the dark
one lit by the morning sun

Yet darkness rules the day
hastens the twilight
gives measure to the
dimming
and finally
captures the last of the light
in a sea green bottle

We are drawn into that night
valiantly
or not
weeping for lost opportunities
or not
but at the end
waltzing into the unknown

Yet I do not suppose
darkness without light
according to my theology
a life that ends in simple extinction
cannot be
it is a null set

The fundamental equations
do not permit it
nor can my simple mind
fathom such depths

So in my dotage
I repair to wine and song
to ease the pain
of these uncertainties
and then to poetry
to catalog the human condition
and leave a trace
that yet might sparkle
in the instant of my demise

=========================
Like the heavy full Clouds rich with water
I emptied myself by showering upon you
but you never understood the value of precious gems
And thought it an useless advice from the ignorant

I never said that I will make a castle in the heaven
Or create a Palace of pearls for seven
Because pearls are useless in a desert
The dying man just needs a few drops of water

A harvest of peace grows from seeds of contentment
O my daughter, listen
When a crow is killed by a storm
The fortuneteller says, ''He died by my curse

Let us live together as fish live with crocodile
As fragrance lives with flower, warmth lives with sun
As stars live together with cool moon in the milky light
A house without children is a graveyard

Why be alone when we can live together my child
You can make my life worthwhile
And I can make you start to smile
So don't emit poison like snake, I have fed you milk
When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced
Now, Live your life in such a manner that when you die,
The world cries and you rejoice.

Don't go away alone, turning your face from us
Remember ! Even a cat is a lion in her own lair

~~~Jawahar Gupta~~~

The intertwined branches of the
woods are brown...
There is not a song in far away lands
The scarf has pain
Knitting veil from my hair
The trees are repetitive to me
I see a man, green
Having no woman next to him

شاخه هاشان در هم تنیده
...چوب ها قهوه ایست
دوردست ها آوازی ندارد
روسری درد می کشد
از موهایم حجاب می بافد
درختان برایم تکرار اند
من
مردی سبز را می بینم
...که زنی در کنارش ندارد

I have been left
            floating
     my arms out
in mid-action
as if to stop
what might have always
             inevitably come        
                   and I am dangling
above forest and brush
            above wild animals
          who look at me
in wonder
my goddess energy
in temporary shock
      my grief
billowing behind me
like an 18th century gown
in a black cloud of mourning
it threatens to
drown me completely
but my secret weapon
      is to let it ride its course
              to feel it in all intensity
For I know
this will pass
I will be ok
and so I let it go
untethered
like a river's rushing current
like a pocket of turbulence
like a storm that whips up,
engulfing quiet
in sudden froth
my hair flows
      like a manga warrioress,
about to strike
her revenge upon the Earth
rage in arrows that pummel
your confused, bruised heart
where truth hides
within layers
upon layers of
     veiled
night air

lingering on the edge
of a sunday morning lie in
I drowse and wander
through a forrest of
dream and thought

in my dream
I am small, the trees large
but not in a threatening way
more like that of welcoming elders

they speak in a language of comfort
there is other life, busy and invisible
bustling about, things I hear but do not see

I walk on a path meandering, touching age oldbark
gathering wisdom and strength by osmosis
giving love and hope in return, small flowers bloom
in my small footsteps, the fragrance uplifting and clean

sunlight dapples the path before me, little dics of pure joy
lead me on, to the end of the trees and into grassy dunes
covered with and abundance of coloured flowers
all with faces set toward the warmth of the mellow sun

in the distance I hear the sea, welcoming me home

the horizon is a golden line in the distance

and the birds sing glorious aria's of happiness

I awake  to the kiss of my lover
and the smell of coffee and pacakes

all is right with the world.....

Spring is here? It’s hard to tell
No changing seasons where I live
Just hot and humid, a living hell
Spring is here? It’s hard to tell
Endless summer leaves my joy felled
Drowning my sorrows with Zinfandel
(lamenting)
Spring is here? It’s hard to tell
No changing seasons where I live*

Kelly Rose
© March 23, 2017

To my friends
who can write
fresh-smelling
bouquets of words
with splendid color,
I offer my envy.
Mine are the blunt, stunted words,
rooted in the cracks
in pavement,
or forcing their way
to light around
overbearing rocks.
Some useful
in their own way,
edible or flavorful,
some with a
pedestrian beauty,
but few that one
would bring home in a bunch
with a box of candy.
More appropriate
in a grimy, young fist
crumpled in love,
destined to be vased
in a water glass
by a doting mother,
or shredded petal by petal
for the sake of soothsaying...
he loves me, he loves me not.

In lonely moments
I stroll the waning memories
when love pure smiled blissfully
deep within a fawning heart

a wistful melody arises untainted
like a steaming enslaved passion
                         breathlessly released
                              unrestrained,..

         ­                          evident
                    as the pressed and dried flowers
          cuddled between life's ardent petaled pages,
                         bookmarks of the heart

                         traces of the wild bouquets
                         that often soothingly caress’d
                         the energizing tingles  
                         inflaming a tantalizing touch

                         the yearning  empty voids
                         feverishly undressed,
                         traced in the hidden sands
                         of unexplored oceans..
                        
                         though time and distance
make the bereft heart grow helplessly fonder,
memories fade softly as the summer breeze befalls,
  
                         as gentle feather’d touch
                         the evanescent sunset afterglow
                         where the earth and sky align
                         the dimming of the day

         loving can heal
the poet’s bleeding words,
loving can mend your soul ―

                         the perennial dawning of an
                         unpromised new day
                         will someday come again

        bequeathed like the bluebird’s mirthful song
to bring forth nascent wild flowers’ blossoming petals
              flourishing in the meadow of my heart


                 *Someone you used to know