"alighted" poems
a beam of
light drifts
down from
in between the
leaves above. from
sky to ground the
light dances, glancing
off of branches as it
travels. fireflies shimmer in
the spaces not alighted by the
moonlight coming down from up
above in the sparkling midnight sky.
not harsh like the sky in the day time, instead
soft and friendly, gently resting upon whatever it
touches. a figure rests in the middle of a
field. the moonlight sees and
gently hugs its new visitor
as it rests upon the ground.
as always, the ground below welcomes its dear lifelong friend from the night sky.
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 4:03 PM UTC
Pre-dawn’s grey burden lapped at breast and knee,
As stroke on stroke I parted glassy deep,
To wash the burden-webs of sorrow free,
Where silent swells—that voyeur—my bare body keeps.
Then limbs grew light, as floating upon sleep,
I let the cool flood enter where heat hides,
Your fingers—wave on wave—caressed, discreet,
I flipped; twin peaks welcomed dawn’s crisp air, gasped, unbound.
On shore, new sun caressed my dripping skin,
When sudden grace—a butterfly, sapphire-dipped surprise—
Alighted, trembling, sipping lake’s sweetness in,
Where lake meets pulse—a moment’s nectar prize.
Then wings, whisper-thin, traced my temple’s hymn—
Hope warmed in gold; all old sorrows forever dim
May 28, 2025
May 28, 2025 at 7:36 PM UTC
I am yours, always yours
For as long as I am useful
As long as you will have me.
I am a ****** idol,
A divine ***** who
May not be the classiest but
Certainly gets the job done.
You were unsophisticated,
Uneducated,
Crude.
Rude.
My mood may change but
My feelings never did.
You left me in the gutter,
Kind,
Knowing it to be my
Place of birth;
Cold,
Knowing it to be the
Place for my death.
I am yours, always yours
Until a more fit replacement may come.
It is more, is more,
Is more rain-spickle,
Spack-tackle, shoe-shit love-drunk easy
To miss my train.
You alighted onto the next platform,
Passing me by on the way
To being busy, to pretending to have a delay.
Don't carry your head so high
When everything you told me was an utter lie.
Why
Would you pretend your life could be shared with me?
Your sweet-warm friendship could
Slip through my fingers,
Keeping the arthritis of
Loneliness away.
So I tried to help you
Carry your back,
And I carried you out of
Immaturity,
But now
I'm fag-snubbed into your snow,
Snowy skin which smothers me
In spring feelings gone cold.
Mar 18, 2010
Mar 18, 2010 at 9:28 PM UTC
Sudden, as a bolt from the blue,
Came down a humming bird, tantalizing
Skimming down and darting up
As an ever revolving top
It reeled round and round
Before it alighted on a shoe flower;
That hung from a drooping branch
In a corner of my front yard garden
It precariously clung on to it
Like a small pendent on a chain
A sight so cool, now so rare
That lighted up my dull spirits!
Once they showed themselves up
On almost every sunny day
Promptly after the monsoon rains
When the plants en mass in resplendent bloom
Oh! How I love this tiny bird
Not larger than a bumble bee
Dressed in a cloak of gold and black
Flitting round on fluttering wings
It literally dances and pirouettes in the air
Before descending down closer to its target
Swirling, gliding n’ moving back and forth
As if unsure of what it should do
Then with a terrific **** and swiveling move
It hovers close to hanging blooms
Balancing itself sans any support
And draws out nectar with its long needle bill
When the zephyrs carry a sweet scent
It flits from flower to flower
And having enjoyed the ambrosial treat
It flies back well satiated like a shooting missile
My eyes fail to capture its lightning move
As it goes whizzing through the lambent air
Quickly disappearing like a mote of soot
Losing itself in the vast expanse of the blue
Being less than an ounce of fat
So light, sleek and well streamlined
It travels faster than the light of speed
In a fleeting dash, moving out of sight
Can any other bird rival it in agility?
Or vie with it in its simple grace?
How cute, this spirit of ‘disembodied joy’
This winged diminutive denizen of the sky!
,
Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 7:31 AM UTC
This trinket this tiny beads of fashionable
Necklace
Of stones not acrylic or rhinestones but from
Rocks
May not be seen in trinket shops or in some
Glass case
Rocks of the Alps looked like little trivial chalks
Now
In one of my traveling that I found the trinket
For her
The small stones tugged at my longing heart
At home her eyes alighted she ask "can I have
This father?"
And I bought her this trinket piece of tiny art
This trinket fashioned from boulders of rocks
To obsidian glistening pearls round her neck
She wore it well matched her hair her pretty
Little locks
Cost me a little fortune but with this tiny trinket
I can looked back
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 5:43 AM UTC
Have you heard of the great Klapi?
Who's wings magnificent help him fly,
Who stalked the village and made that his feat,
With a loathing heart that contained his heat.
Every day he prowled the trees
And waited for the King's decrees
Then he'd take flight and soar overhead
And force the villagers to flee in dread.
Until one day, he felt quite off
And feared he was becoming soft.
His fear was confirmed when in the wild,
The beast, the monster, met a child.
"Come play with me" the child invited
And upon the dragon, the child alighted.
Somehow the beast felt happy, at last!
And took off flying very fast.
The child gripped to the dragon's mane.
The monster finally felt humane.
And every day they'd play 'til night,
And the Klapi was filled with sheer delight.
The beast gave up his violent ways
And lived for love throughout his days.
The child grew throughout the years
And never had any fears.
Then one day the child so tan,
Suddenly found he was a man!
And as all men were to do their best
To **** a beast, that was the quest.
The test of manhood, his calling hour.
The rise or fall of his life's tower.
Upon this task, his future rested.
His way of life would soon be tested.
The man approached his friend, the Klapi,
A look of grief deep in his eye.
The beast felt his friend's heavy heart
For he knew now, that they must part.
With many tears and moments shared
Between the two who deeply cared
More for the other than pleasing men,
Sharing the bond that goes far beyond our ken.
A man grew old and racked his mind
For a glimpse of the friend he could not find.
So he imagined a story, an adventure, a lie…
Of youth, of fun, and of the great Klapi.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 8:28 PM UTC
*Down in the depths of a wilderness;
the derangement of **** and of wisp.
A creature is arched in a hunker
over bundled leaves; golden and crisp.
Its' blistered hands riddled with splinters
Its' tired face blackened by dirt.
Its' glowing and warm disposition,
Worn pale by commotion and hurt.
It is wary from cold and from torment;
the dark of the forests damp chill.
But it scuffs at the bones as with tinder
igniting the marrow with skill.
Wiping its' brow with its' forearm
the creature desists with a gasp
Smoke trails up through the forest.
A spark has alighted at last.
The flame inhales fallen pine cones;
blazing up through the bramble and briar.
Excitement and fear harmonizing,
'till their voices can't sing any higher;
'till the heart is consumed by her fire.*
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 7:17 AM UTC
She had shown to me,
Aurora
Aurora sweet alighted
the excited verdant ions
a scar of atmosphere
the mantle undivided
to give as sacrifice
to give life to snow
Ye not tempt me with it
Burden of beauty
of foggy things in my dreams
at fancy ballroom mirages
Indifference,
to be found in the refrigerated drink section
outside the air is cold and cools oil on gravel
while across town the burning embers of a home
melt the snow into rivers
The fog of dew on the leaves
drunk, speak the lips of the slain
to look up into the blue
and find solace in the rains.
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 1:15 PM UTC
words tear me a new soul. i thought i discarded mine to the wind when sorrow alighted barely balancing on the barbed wire fence, wings dank and damp, mangy feather dropping into thick dusty underfoot
dusting me off, windex the glass around my innerworkings so you can watch them spin dizzy from your helium touch
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 5:50 PM UTC
Her wide-brim hat was pointed, and worn with ne'er a tilt
Her midnight robe was flowing, and wove from satin silk
Her Besom broom was hazel-hilted, twigged with fresh cut birch
As she flew o'er the hill, until she spied a rocky perch
The hill was trapped in moons light, caught in its silken nets
And grizzled trees were swaying casting eerie silhouettes
A howling wind came moaning, as it wailed a haunting sound
When her swishing broom came whooshing, as she swept o'er the ground
She alighted on the hill top, landing dainty on her toes
And took a tattered grimoire which she held up to her nose
She raised a magic talisman and cast an ancient spell
Then she waited through the gloaming, till midnight chimed its bell
The hill stood gravely silent, as the wind restrained its breath
The grass and flowers wilted and released their scent of death
The shadows neath the trees became alive and took on shape
And ghostly figures rose, as Hallows Eve called them awake
The sounds of horse drawn carriages, came trundling up the hill
Whilst babbling jeering voices exorcised the silent still
A sudden gust of wind called out the names of those condemned
Each manacled and chained up, as they rode to meet their end
As time echoed its memories, she watched the scene unfold
The victims forced unwillingly, to climb upon the scaffold
Some offered up the Lord’s Prayer, and ne'er a word was stumbled
They took a final breath of life, and into hell they tumbled
Their bodies swung ungainly, as they swayed a ghastly dance
With lifeless spectral faces locked into a stone-like trance
Their deathly shrouds were pale, reflected in moons silken sheen
And she watched as they cavorted, ne'er attempt to intervene
They slunk back into shadows, at the fading of the night
The hill reprieved from darkness by the early morning light
The ritual was completed, as she whispered them goodbye
And she climbed onto her hazel broom and kicked into the sky
On Gallows Hill neath stars and moon they hung
And ne'er a one had done the world a wrong
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 9:18 PM UTC
Aku mengejarmu
ke tempat bayanganmu pernah singgah
Mencari suaramu di tengah hiruk pikuk kota yang tak pernah tidur
Sepi menoreh di tengah keramaian
Ketika orang mabuk oleh ilusi,
Aku sadar akan ketiadaan
Ketika mereka tenggelam dalam lautan cahaya,
Aku pudar dalam kelamnya sunyi
Mengejarmu ke kota yang telah kau tinggalkan
-------
I'm chasing you
to the place your shadow once alighted
Finding your voice in the midst of cacophony
of the city that never sleeps
Solitude incised through the crowd
People are drunk with illusion
Alone I am aware of the void
They are drowned in a sea of lights
I am fading inside the leaden silence
Chasing you to the place you've left behind
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 11:42 AM UTC
*when together,
agreed this rule,
no devices
alighted,
no phones
incited
this is the rule of
us
lest we let the devices rule
us*
thus interfering with our own
ignition
interfering with our own
devices
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 4:52 PM UTC
Something made me think of you
while on a late-night train
I suppressed a smile while by myself
I shouldn't think about you again
As we rattled into our first stop
I thought of our first kiss
the carriage was warm but lonely
like you, on the Dublin to Galway express
We trundled on to station two
you crowded my head once more
I reminisced on our second summer then
when you used come to my door
By the time we arrived at station three
my thoughts were bitter and shrill -
you'd taken my heart, I'd forgotten that part
and leaned in for the ****
Before my stop, the train broke down
and grinded to a halt,
giving me time to reflect on what I used call 'perfect'
things that are now, undoubtedly, faults
Once the train started up, my mind was clear
as a summer Sunday sky. I alighted the train,
as it moved on in the night,
I saw
that so had I.
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 1:27 PM UTC
be quiet and still
small and silent
and you will see
wonderous things
these were the sage
words of my grandfather
once a month,
we would go to
a grove in the woods
and learnt the art
of patient watching....
i remember the first time
i saw an echidna rustle by
and the slow movement
of a blue toungue lizard
moving with the sun...
rabbits and foxes
wallabies, a koala
backing down a tree
but the day that still
delights, is the day
as we sat still and quiet
butterfly's alighted
by the hundreds to
become a carpet
of pure flickering enchantment
and i knew this was life....
at it's finest....and most wonderous.....
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
Kailasa mountain peaks
composed completely of clouds
hover mystically across the
mauve purple horizon
I stare dreamily out the car window
this celestial impression arouses
a sacred memory that has haunted
my consciousness
since I first alighted 12,000 feet above
sea level onto the blessed Himalayan
mountain range
I don’t think there is any place
like this on earth
glaciers hang like huge crystal malas
around majestic white bluffs
the air ripples, tingles tangibly with spirits of
Sages, Saints and other sublime beings
ethereal cathedral bells ring brightly
in the crisp altitude
The road climbing from Badrinath
to Vishnu’s auspicious Footprint
continues ascending
to the very threshold of Heaven
everything is just so luminous
even the breath filling our lungs
shimmers
As I travel back in time to that holy place
I know a part of me still sits in padmasana
aloft those Godly hills
through the melting snows
spring rains and summer monsoons
lost in supreme bliss
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 2:02 AM UTC
This month of December is of special significance, since it
brings the present year to a close, and ushers in the coming New
Year, which the spirit of Christmas enfolds! This poem is dedicated
to Catherine Jarvis of Arizona, and all my Poet Friends of this Site.
May the coming New Year 2016 bring peace and prosperity, leaving
old tensions behind! -Raj, New Delhi.
JOHN THE BAPTIST
By Raj Nandy
Out of the wilderness there came a man,
With staring eyes and unkempt hair ;
A leather belt around his waist ,
And clothes made of camel's hair.
He never begged for any money,
Lived in the desert on locust and wild honey !
His voice in the wilderness spoke of the Lord ,
And preached the arrival of the Son of God !
"Repent ye sinners," John had cried, "wash
away all your sins ",
In the flowing waters of River Jordan ,
He summoned all to be baptized by him!
Then out of Galilee there came a Man ,
With gentle looks, both meek and tall;
And looked at him and softly said, -
"Baptize me John"!
John at once realized, it was the Messiah
standing before his sight!
So he asked the Lord to baptize him instead,
But the request of the Lord must be obeyed !
As John baptized Jesus there descended from
the Heavens above, -
The Holy Spirit in the shape of a Dove ,
And alighted on the Lord's head !
Then a voice was heard from the Heavens, -
"This is my beloved son in whom I am well
pleased'', - the voice echoed and said!
Now friends whenever we seek His blessings,
and in His name drink our toast,
Remember that we are thrice blessed always,
By the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost !
-Raj Nandy
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 5:25 AM UTC
Strolling down the rickety steps.
I got a lonesome fly past by the solo admiral.
The red one.
He darted into the bush.
Alighted for a moment.
Then both of us moved on.
Livvi
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 1:12 PM UTC
This morning was cold and a foggy one.
It reminded me of a past colder morning,
When the holiday hustle and bustle had just ended.
I was here....at Windwood Park,
My arms squeezed across my chest.
While briskly I walked, a strong wind blew
And by me, a flock of black birds flew...
I passed along house gardens, with Christmas trees,
With angels and stars on their tops still lighted.
Further on was a row of evergreens,
Upright, unaffected by the cold December winds,
High above the Magnolias and Hollies.
Beside the orange-purplish Birds of Paradise
Stood two smaller, obliquely grown pine trees;
Leaning, but undaunted by the sway of the winds,
No angels, or stars to show....instead, I watched as
The Crows approached, and on the tree tops, they alighted...
And then came another group of three,
And then several more followed suit,
And settled
On the nearby trees,
Blurring the tree line...until
The treetops were darkly shaded....
High above, they perch...on the grass, they search,
On the streets, they cross, pick up food, doing
What birds of the same feathers do---to survive...
A group of beaked, footed, dark crescent creatures
On top of those trees, so green with life,
Against a sky pleasantly clear and blue...
The contrasts, the events I witnessed, lingered with the cold...
A small patch of darkness...emerging,
Widening, prevailing, gaining power,
Can eventually conquer a whole world.
The White Egrets, Herons, the Finch,
The Bluebirds, Junkos and the Parrots
Usually grace Windwood Park with their presence...
Only the Blue Jay was brave enough that cold morning,
While a large number of Crows scattered,
And bravely, skillfully scavenged,
Through the wet, verdant grass,
Through the tall cans of thrash...
This morning, the cold brought back these events...and
I thought of the violence and starvation existing in places worldwide,
The prevailing restlessness, the senseless killings...the children....
No more concern for human lives...and
I thought of Nigeria...
And Pakistan,
And Paris, France,
And those that happened before them,
And those that are about to happen...
Sally
Copyright 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
...we never know what we may witness when we step out of our
comfort zones...
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
once upon a time,
she alighted
on atlas' shoulder
and softly
told him a story.
as he unfolded
his path going
west, she unfolded
words, tracing the
east, for the sun to rise,
and then she sighed
and he held her, made
her his night sky
- heaviness of light,
folded heart.
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 6:52 AM UTC
I always wanted to
Marry, merry Mary.
But knew not how to propose.
And so I went to fetch her flowers
Rows of roses rose
before me, presenting many choices but producing a tear.
My sorrow was broken by a
Sheer, cheer, chear,
my friends wishing my love to ignite
Be not discouraged, your love is a
lite, light. Alighted
by the tender flame your heart abates.
And Mary loves you, despite her long
way and weighty wait
She knows you're worth it and why
So put on your best suit and
tie that Thai tie
of azure that matches your eyes
That's Mary's favorite, said
I, aye, eye
And she's sure to say yes, yes, yes
to such a fool in love
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 1:00 AM UTC
oh, sweet discovery--
an affirmation, iterate anew--
frissoning along the spinal ungulate
of waxing waning curve of time i spin
within that spiral, scapular
for sternum bloom in thinning breath
to thick, spread elongate
digitally ground
and see the phasing moons
as one, what, separated is in union once again
as what, in being one, unites united difference all again, again
--again repeated-- in my cells that newness thread
laddered spiecieswide, and more
alighted language coding
holograms in boon of sun--
golden futures past--
univocally found
by none, by all and only some,
and even only one
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 12:41 AM UTC
Sometimes a fatted pig will wander off from the pen and find his way to the pond on the edge of the property. If it’s dark or foggy, he may fall in and sink to the bottom. Only later when his carcass has filled with methane and mucous will he float to the surface. You’ll know he’s been in the water for a while when you see the bloat, the blisters oozing, and the skin sloughing off in large sheets. Don’t go there. It might reflect poorly on you.
Ok. So you didn’t listen. You went ahead and fetched a stick and poked. And you were taken aback by just how easily it slid through his tissues, like the time when that pigeon alighted on your hand, and you were startled by how it weighed almost nothing at all. So to see what might come of it, you wiggled the stick, and suddenly what was left of the liver and kidneys popped up onto the surface and spit a stream of water into your mouth. They drifted towards you and away again, like your lost toy sailboat, the one that got off the string and floated down the rapids in Lucerne. Over the falls it went, under the covered bridge, and that was the end.
Of course you still eat blood sausage. Why wouldn't you? The texture is rubbery but the taste is well ….. like blood....so metallic on your tongue. But this blood will not wash away your sins. It’s more like Pepsi Cola, or maybe Mountain Dew.
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 10:00 PM UTC
I dreamt a man descending from a cloud
Amidst birds in a lengthening crowd
Singing hallelujah Christmas is here
In merry notes did rejoice and cheer
Singing hallelujah Christmas is here
Amongst sparrows and many a pigeon
Leading the choir from region after region
Singing hallelujah Christmas is here
In merry notes heralding so fresh a new year
Singing hallelujah Christmas is here
There were robins and many a skylark,
Alighted upon so gentle a wind's back
Singing hallelujah Christmas is here
In merry notes gallivantin' here and there.
Singing hallelujah Christmas is here
Lets fly above the highest mountains
To go quaff nectar from silver fountains
Singing hallelujah Christmas is here
In merry notes were heard by the far and near.
Singing hallelujah Christmas is here
So sung the nightingale and cuckoo too
Till from gazin' sight vanished in clouds of blue
Singing hallelujah Christmas is here
Let the world rejoice and sing hallelujah
© Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Los Angels, California, USA.
DEC/22/2018
Dec 22, 2018
Dec 22, 2018 at 4:38 AM UTC
promises are never meant for keeping.
empty words flung around,
luring innocents into a sense
of familiar false security.
i promised i wouldn't,
but i did.
i promised i would,
but i didn't.
all still empty words
swirling down a dingy bathtub drain,
dirt collecting 'round the rim.
promises are never meant for keeping.
i feel the needleprick if my own shortcomings,
sharper than a surgeon's scalpel
carved my breast in two;
the autopsy recites the cause---
"overdose, heart failure, aneurism."
"cancer, blood loss, asphyxiation."
but i died log ago,
in the velvet arms of mother dear
as she murdered her
whispered bedtime melodies
that alighted my fondest memories;
when she told me life is hard
and magic can be sold.
promises are never meant for keeping;
they wither over time
like wilted flowers in the windowsill,
years if drought apparent
in their sad, shriveled cores.
i was promised much
and promised more in return,
but we're left all with only
aching temples
and half-empty beers.
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC
Slowly, a single white feather
on her cold, out-stretched palm, alighted.
She knew then... those thoughts
were of her surrender.
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 2:38 AM UTC