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 Feb 2018 Hanafuda
wordvango
Wouldn't it be crazy wonderful
To see in person some of
The most noted Wordsworth's
And personalities that
Hello Poetry has to offer?
August 15th would be good
Here in Clayhatchee Bamalama
In the south with nothing else to offer but the woods and cornstalks the peanut dust air.
It would be a festival. A face to face to finally meet the poets I admire and describe in my head by their words and their profile.
I'm about to start a gofundme page to make the wildest dreams come true. Imagine Eliot greeting you in person.
Its gonna be tie-dye only and sandals dress. (Weeds illegal here and the price high as hell, so bring your own)
Load up the vw van with all your poet friends.
Entrance fees waved to those
Bringing their own soap and toiletries. Oh, and beer....or ***....whisky....tequila.... Etc.
We are also going to need qualified trippers to man the LSD flipout tent.  Please apply here: www.hpflipouttent.com
 Feb 2018 Hanafuda
Grey mirror
I sought true love
From a man,
Who didn't even know
Who love is!
For that reason
He is not at fault
For not giving me the
Love I once knew.
God is love, without knowing God how will we ever know what true love is.
 Feb 2018 Hanafuda
Valsa George
amid scurrying feet
in the whirling humanity
with divided aims
and sizzling brains
she paused with singularity of purpose

never in a hurry, more at peace
on a park bench, alone
bent and weird, she sat.
when she moved
her bones creaked
on rusty hinges!

ragged in dress, torn in body,
face scourged by Time,
its contours deep like ravines
her withered *******
hanging like nests of tailor birds
hair lying disheveled,
with eyes shrouded in mist
she looked out into the sinking sun,
never dreading the darkness that falls

the park bench was her temporary halt

she sat there every evening
determined to live on,
with the coins habitually dropped
into her outstretched hands
by those sailing past her
unobtrusive self.

like a monument of patience
she sat.
sat, so alone!
 Feb 2018 Hanafuda
Valsa George
In the far fringe of a woody island
With a winding river
Making circuitous pilgrimage
There is a solitary hut
Visible through the patches of light and shadow
With its precincts lapped by the waves
And the rich alluvial soil
Engendering plants of robust growth

In it live a man and wife
A pair made for each other!
Their likes and longings
Blend and bleed into one another
Though they are at the subsistence level
Who have just one square meal a day
They grow in the joy of a living love
Making life a celebration in a rare way

Their humble hut, ever blessed by
Seasonal yield from fruit trees of tropical kind
Added by plants’ flowery delight
A riot of pink, yellow, red and maroon
Where wild trees stand watch over
With creepers in greener leaves
And their foliage, in a merry dance
Latching and intertwining their delicate tendrils

In the air, there is a subdued roar
Made by the swish and swirls of life
But in the silent interstices
Between the rush and blur
There descends a heavenly peace
That sets their souls dancing
Making it a happy home
Sweeter than a mansion of gold!
I have watched their life with a grain of envy. Somehow I feel that sons of the soil leading a simple life away from all artificial sophistication of modern life, unhealthy competitions and vaulting ambition for power and pelf are far more contented in life with their days couched in greater peace and harmony!
 Feb 2018 Hanafuda
Valsa George
It rained on and on.
The fire in the hearth
Had long died out.
Hunger grew,
Frustration raged.

Vultures swooped down
to feed on flesh.
Half willing, half resenting,
Surrendered, rather subdued,
Desires spilled over,
Bristles pricking
From ***** to *****
Thrusting and tearing
Devouring in greedy gulp

Waves surging past the log

Passion spent,
Hunger appeased,
Purse strings loosened,
Silver coins tinkled.

Amply paid,
Her wages of shame……
The toil not wasted!

The reel of Time unwound itself,
And the scenes, constantly replayed.
‘Exploring hands encounter(ed) no defense’.
Each day closed in ****** h(r) ut,
When the h(r) ut turned a ****,
She started to rot.

Feeble she grew,
Languid she became,
Body thinned,
Energy waned,
Ailments plagued,
And
Immunity lost!

Now,
She lives an outcast.
A wild flower
wilted by the wind!
A luscious fruit
blighted by the worms!
My sympathies are always with the marginalized and the exploited ! We could have been one of them, but fortune favored us ! This thought ever rules me !
 Feb 2018 Hanafuda
Valsa George
In the wild confusion of my life, I saw your face
A kind countenance making bright my days
Through rugged tracks when I stumbled along
I felt an unseen hand holding me strong

When bewildered by the horrid scenes of death
You assured that life extends beyond mortal breath
When lost in the dank and dark alley of wickedness
You diverted my steps into the well lit path of righteousness

When I gloated over my own trivial accomplishments
You reminded me of my littleness through mild chastisements
When I lost myself in the grip of vanity
You opened my inner eye to restore my sanity

When tossed by the currents of fiery storms
Lord! You made me seek the safety of your arms
When drowning in the sea of escalating pain
You sustained and strengthened me and kept me sane

Many got wiped out from the face of the Earth
Without seeing the New Year’s birth
Thank you for allowing me to see this glorious dawn
‘Extend your hand’, I pray, for me to hold on!

Make me feel, you are there in every rhythm of my life
More when life becomes burdensome with problems rife
Over the arid deserts and the stormy turbulent sea
I pray to be by my side as an abiding presence, piloting me

My Lord! Without you my life will be in peril
Never let me fall into the snares of the devil
Do not desert me, stay by my side now and ever
Be my guiding light and sanctify my every endeavor!
I thought I shall start my New Year invoking the blessings of God

Prayerful wishes to all my HP friends for a Blessed New Year of Peace , Hope and Cheer !
 Feb 2018 Hanafuda
Valsa George
Mind, like a deciduous forest
has lost all its foliage,
all leaves torn away
by the autumnal blasts

The brain where great schemes were concocted
is now an abyss where spiders sway
It is bare – dismally barren
of all memories – sweet and sour
Like a kite afloat in the boundless sky
moving nowhere, but as the wind directs,
cut out from the past, turned from the present
with the future yet to surge from the abyss
or like serpents intertwining,    
hissing in turmoil within the brain,
unable to sense the gusty blast,
or hear the whispering air,
dead to sounds that disturb,
deaf to songs that soothe,
like a phantom he moves weird,
drifting far away
to a space and time impenetrable  
with nothing to make the mind agog
or depress it to let out a sigh.

Loitering on roads without hurrying feet
with no bliss coming on the way
to run or hasten to embrace
or fear to be missed sore
passing through dark labyrinthine tunnels
forever barred with no exit
churned in oblivion, oblivious of all,
he remains a spectral facsimile
of his onetime self
plummeting into a black hole

The pulse of a heart beat
is all that keeps him alive,  
all else is dead…… !  
with dreary nights ahead
that shall not know another morrow
Only others can throw a little light in the dark lives of its hapless victims!

(With a heart heavy with gratitude, let me acknowledge my poet friend -  Kim Johanna Baker who gave sunshine to my poem who has thus honored me several times !)
 Feb 2018 Hanafuda
Mike Adam
How close you approach,
Moon-

How blue
How blood red.

Within the love
Of living heart
(Pump pump pump)

How close-

How far far


Away
 Feb 2018 Hanafuda
Cné
from head to my toes
you don’t seem to see my flaws
& i love your eyes.
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