. falling days . - Hello Poetry

Aug 2016

Sheila Jacob

Each year
they seem to die,
winter
beneath scarred wood
transforming in the dark.

Pale buds
return, fingertip
the air,
unclench fistfuls
of layered cream

I balance
against my hands,
relinquish
to day, night,
sunlight and rainfall

showering petals
across the lawn,
hemming
my garden path
with summer silks

Aug 2016

Pradip Chattopadhyay

Crab Catcher

Mud on her cheek
she catches crab
by the narrow creek

her frame is sleek
skin saline drab
bone rickety weak.

She makes no show
tides only know
taste of her knee

her hair's knotty lock
makes the wind to talk
feel her slowly.

Why I can't tell
on the mind's sail
she stirs a song

I find her so fair
upon a moment there
then she's gone.

once again at the mangroves

Aug 2016

r

Words that only we could hear

All of his letters ended in goodbye
instead of to be continued

someday we're all going to die
my brother, he would say

now he's got me saying the same
words like the moon and darkness
that only we could hear

he'd listen to the blues and sip whiskey
until morning, then wake me
from my sleep, tell me to go out

and cut the weeds
growing up around the stone
angels in the field.

Aug 2016

r

Beggarman, you

When you paint your walls
with nonsense, and the sky outside
reflects your feelings, sensations
tiring, discovering floors and no ceilings.

And the faceless poor man
doesn't want your tips
but your hand, he wants to try
standing, because he's tired of kneeling.

When you insure the beggar's
confidence with a dime, hoping
he will ask you to stay awhile, then
you see he's not the freak, you are.

It is your mind that is on trial,
the beggarman dying, you slowly
take up his cup, and begin the eternal
begging for just one single smile.

Aug 2016

Pradip Chattopadhyay

55 Lost Road

I go back to that place

Through the green door
Enter the red brick house

Mikhu is still the little fairy
My eyes look for
And still my shyness
Forces me to look away
In her mother's presence

In the faraway attic
She furtively cooks me a meal
We make love
That brush our skin faintly

When I come out
She stands at the green door

Then upon the here
She is no more

55 my first address from memory, wonder if sowed the first seed of romance.

Aug 2016

Mike Adam

Dawn overture

Gentle rustle and
creak of bamboo

Far off soothing flute
and soft drum, gentle
mist caressing marsh

Barefoot monks pad
roads accepting simple
alms of curry, rice;
Blessings and incense
float on smooth air.

Sudden cacophony of
mynah explode the grove, a
steady chant bubbles under
the noise, some new symphony
of hunger below bloodshot sky.

Dogs militate exercise,
giving voice, cat slips in
knowing, paws daddy whiskers.

Hawking cough of the headman
announcing his non-demise-
neighbourly sighs.

Crab unburrows and scurries
aside from sand to lapping tide
to feast on volitional jelly who
come inshore to breed and die,
so many alien pearls strung
glistening along the strand.

Jul 2016

ryn

Rueful Request

We all look up to the same sun.
To the same moon we confide.
We all look at them the same...
Hoping for the light of day...
Wishing for peace at night.

Unfortunately...
It seems that they are not just.
For their light is selective.
It is not available to those
heavily shrouded in the dark,
drenched in tears.
It seemingly favour those
who'd shamelessly croon for their boon.
Miscreants who shirk
their responsibilities and fears.

I beg you...
Guardian of day and sentinel in twilight.
May your arms be kind and fastidious.
May your reach be deliberate,
purposeful and extensive.
Find those who cry but without voice.
Cradle those who've made decisions
without the luxury of choice.
Shed some love so they could see
past their laboured breaths in mud.
Raise them to their feet
so that they might
have a fighting chance to live.

#request #rue #hellopoetry107

Jul 2016

bones

Cured..

There once was a man
with the gravest of frowns,

hung like a ham
by the folk of his town

who wanted to see
if his sad mouth might be

any happier turned upsidedown ..

Jul 2016

r

Wishing I'd got a PhD in Astronomy

My coat is black
like the nights
I have long forgotten.

I left heaven
for the taverns.

I did my readings before daybreak
when the moon was far aloft,
but the nights got longer.

I kept putting things off
hoping I would discover a star
I knew was there.

Now I saw logs
and leave the leaves
where they fall.