Dark n Beautiful

Dark n Beautiful Oct 2013

A Prose

I looked in the mirror and saw my mother face, I remember her stories, her poems, that was so long ago, my mother kind of loyalty was only for her ancestral spirits, I am so tired of trying, so tired of the rules, the injustice that I face daily in the work-place: my job titles has become the one size fits all division, no organization, no time frame, knowingly there’s no such thing as a one-size-fits-all approach. Everybody wants to be the boss; a role that isn’t right for everyone, it’s a huge responsible especially if they can’t lead the team to victory: child play on display, I referred to the situation, one big obstinate headache, day after day after day. If I could overlook the injustice, and freeze my thoughts; if I could only,
If I could only fly

Dark n Beautiful Oct 2013

Car 59

The Train whistles and sounds
Into the early morning:
while the cricket’s chirps frantically
at the clicking sound of rusty old tracks;
my heart beat faster than ever,

I had to park my new car;
under the old train bridge
and board the 6:25 to
Bridgton

The homeless drug addicts
Seem quite content with their long term residency
Car 59
I looked to my left, then to my right
The foul-smelling car made the morning gloomy
Should I sit, or should I stand
Something about the early morning commutes
That really annoys this Staten Island's South Shore commuters
the stench in car 59

The sunlight slowly made its way into the day close to seven am
But somehow the addict and his partner didn’t seem to care
who broad car 59
so many dialects , so many nationalities
my heart beat faster , than ever
Why the hell doesn’t Metro North clean up the
this train line…

,

Dark n Beautiful Oct 2013

Cockamamie

Nana says heaven, for her,
and hell is for Granddad;
her words were cockamamie
worse than my granddad Irish Island vernacular
after two to three bottle of whisky

somewhat, impractical ,
somewhat, pragmatic

Granddad, believe that hell was right here on earth."
living with my Nana;

I always believe that wherever, my granddad goes
he would make the best of a bad situation
that was my nomad granddad

“Hell is here on earth
Do you really know where heaven is Ellie?
I have been living in hell all my life
How is your heavenly experience Ellie?
Said Granddad”

His strength, his witty conversation
Always made me smile

Nana says heaven for her,
And hell is for my granddad.
This was so sad.

Dark n Beautiful Oct 2013

Haiku

It is very cold
on the dark side of the moon
moon peeks through black clouds

Dark n Beautiful Sep 2013

Force Ripe

All Blames goes back to an old time religion
Mother without tears, no end
A father without fears, no courage
Poverty is a sin
That can led a nation into abomination
Breeding cattle can solve a herdsman problem
However, how can one sell his daughters for dowry?
Does it worth it to win the lottery,
Then lose it all the next day

My heart goes out to the innocent children .
Child Brides..

Dark n Beautiful Sep 2013

A Pray For Peace..Kyrielle Poetry Form

Father for thy, promised blessing
Let there be no more uprising
Forgive the misunderstanding
God of love eases all suffering

Thy high counselor spoke of war
Those bazaar bandoliers and cigars
Clearly, there is no escaping
God of love eases all suffering

It’s sad to see the frantic cries
As thousands of torture soul dies
Stop the tears, regret and lies
Glory to God, and praise thee

KYRIELLE

The French kyrielle is composed entirely of quatrains (a quatrain is any stanza with four lines). There is no set number of stanzas, although generally a kyrielle contains three or more. The rhyme scheme is up to the poet (aabb ccbb ddbb etc. is frequently used), but it must be the same for all stanzas. Also, the last line of all stanzas is the same. Kyrielles generally have eight syllables per line, although this is not a requirement.

Dark n Beautiful Sep 2013

Summer Ends With Teary Eyes

Summer is finally coming to an end
Tommy soccer ball lay lifeless in the city drain
Gathering, grease stain
A broken swing lay upside down
After the circus left town
Small footprints engraved on the pavements
Each step seems to lead us to the paths to enlightenment?
So, where shall we go from here?
After the long hot days of summer

Shall we hibernate like mountain bears?
Or shall we shed the heat of summer like autumn leaves
While the cool breeze of autumn take us like bold thieves

Each summer brings a little laughter, a little love
And a flocks of mourning doves,
Unlike the last days of summer vernacular sounds
Sticky night, hot sweat, water fest;
and most of all
those mysterious disappearing teens throngs
shall we look forward to the long wintry months
With frozen ice and slippery roads
While the city folks take it as a personal affront
Shouting harsh vocabulary words
to Mother Nature

One last drop of water from the city open hydrant
Before another adrenaline
And two more months of summer days
Goodbye, summer.