"bewailed" poems
Freedom At Kannyakumari
“The destiny of India is molded in her class-rooms”
Kothari had no confusion; no vision on the fusion-
of the East and the West, as Swami Vivekananda’s vision,
“The comingling of the East and the West will dawn a new Era”.
As tissue culture, transplantation or cloning
we Indians imbibe the Western Culture;
or as G.M cotton or brinjals,or tomato
Indians are produced, transmuted
destroying the very indigenous genus for material growth.
Ayurveda is preserved not in Sanskrit but in English letters, now !
Followers of Lord Maccaulay as obedient servants,
by experiments,bring up Indians only in blood and colour-
in every other respects-Europeans
(using imperialist - capitalist media);
poor sycophants ,for a visa,
the Indians: now , turn to the West for light,
leaving the bright light under the Urn;
cry for a way of progress, safety and food;
and beg:once self reliant nations as cells of a body
No retrospection or introspection,
only putrefaction, hence , no resurrection.
On August 15th ,at Kannyakumari beach , beside me,
a bare body of a woman(my sister?) lay asleep;
I witnessed at the starry cold mid-night:
the surging sea spitting frothing snow
upon the black rocky *******
protruded, greasy, mossy. bare but fair ,
ever young at the feet of Bharat-matha.
Wet in the salty breeze , from the foul smell of death,
I walked and walked searching shelter,
but no room for a single son with meagre wealth.
The tourism net -workers with the thirst of mosquitoes
hummed around me with highly rented room offer-
source of tourism exploitation- I bargained,
till, morning red balloon rose up in the Eastern horizon
cleaving the vapours of the sea,
when , thousand tongues chanted Gayathri;
then , the locals thronged around the woman on the shore;
somebody among them, staring blear eyed
as the police jeep and the ambulance arrived , bewailed
“O! Gayathri, my darling, O! Gayathri…” Unsoothed.
The chanting and the yelling dissolved in the breeze
that passed by the Vivekananda rock, afar, south
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 3:50 AM UTC
I am keening
In lament
bewailed at this notion.
Contempt for structure, value and discipline is acceptable.
Jeremiad
A parent can't parent but would be praised for "friending" rather than tending to their child's growth.
Hippie tricksters and hipster is all the craze with new age bad zones and soft tones
Then everyone moans and claim the lack of parenting is to blame when they go columbine and spray bullets to deal with the torment.
I'm sick of the news and its pro no rules avocation
Sick of the pop trend of life is always a dead end
Sick of fly by night "let them be and hope they make it" attitudes
When a little hug and a quick "let me show you" can make our youths guide the progress rather than tear it down.
I little input is appreciated, accepted and acknowledged
But not mandatory
Be good be rewarded, be bad be without
Very self explanatory.
Those in between that goal are an obstacle not a hero
I want greatness for my child
Not mediocrity to a zero.
Parent with your experience and regulation
Not google and trending
See the end and before you begin and preempt the blind pretending.
Cuz today is not ok
When we fear tomorrow
Cuz yesterdays ways were forgotten.
From one father to the next
-Alexis J Meighan-
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 11:25 PM UTC
I am keening
In lament
bewailed at this notion.
Contempt for structure, value and discipline is acceptable.
Jeremiad
A parent can't parent but would be praised for "friending" rather than tending to their child's growth.
Hippie tricksters and hipster is all the craze with new age bad zones and soft tones
Then everyone moans and claim the lack of parenting is to blame when they go columbine and spray bullets to deal with the torment.
I'm sick of the news and its pro no rules avocation
Sick of the pop trend of life is always a dead end
Sick of fly by night "let them be and hope they make it" attitudes
When a little hug and a quick "let me show you" can make our youths guide the progress rather than tear it down.
I little input is appreciated, accepted and acknowledged
But not mandatory
Be good be rewarded, be bad be without
Very self explanatory.
Those in between that goal are an obstacle not a hero
I want greatness for my child
Not mediocrity to a zero.
Parent with your experience and regulation
Not google and trending
See the end and before you begin and preempt the blind pretending.
Cuz today is not ok
When we fear tomorrow
Cuz yesterdays ways were forgotten.
From one father to the next
-Alexis J Meighan-
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 11:27 PM UTC
O’ bewailed seeker of the seeker
Wandering in the corridor of tenet
Yet opening doors as a blind valet
To the master of secular need
That materialistic greed
On your slumping soul it feeds
Won’t you lift the veil from your heart?
For the doors are new yet all the same
To the rooms of silken gold of shame
O’ lamented!
To annihilate this lust and moist your lips
Don’t cup your hand, nor take the sip
“To quench this thirst, be the sea”
Your heart is vessel so sail THIS ship
Cruise the waters; sail wide and strive
Dig the hole deep, drown and rise
O’ grieving self
Now you conserve the flame of “fikr”
You are the sea yet how good is
When contained in self, veiling the bliss?
“To quench your thirst, be the rain”
Sprinkle the leaves and be that trail
Of lush green ivy once livid and pale
Undone the knots and unlock the chains,
For the dust, for the smoke and the fading lights
Aren’t those ones who have most right?
“But to be the rain, must be that vapor”
That gazes at “shams” and let it burn
The glistening surface of its being
Surrenders its berth of cradling sea
And submits its sole to the Highest being
A sage once said Fire and Rain
Are in unison; are one name
Immortality!
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 8:36 AM UTC
I:
Did he know,
gazing within
the first morning’s
reflection of the mirror?
The world was ruled with rapacious greed.
Could he...a simple carpenter’s son hold reign?
Rivaling concepts of malice and hate
with only a vision of righteousness.
What might have been if faith had turned
that one lonely night, praying in the garden?
All we now treasure and know
not lost... simply never learned.
But his belief held fast.
Even as the nails pierced his waiting wrists,
and the breath was filched from offered breast.
His tendered flesh drained of life's essence.
And the world’s foundation shook
from this one man’s belief.
“Most cherished of all ‘The Father’s’ gifts, is Love".
"Love even your enemy...your own butchers.”
Perhaps he knew from the mirror’s silent stare.
But I think not.
II:
Did he know, gazing within
the morning’s first reflection of the mirror?
This man condemned God‘s chosen few.
****** them with imperfect ideals of superiority.
Hegemonies, spawned from purely selfish desire.
Built upon altars of blackened bone,
stained with the purified blood of unnamed martyrs.
Animating his belief with the potency of his voice
and the putrid breath from chambers of death.
His dream blossomed from a nightmare‘s blackened shade.
Millions died as millions more bewailed their loss.
And the world turned once again.
Its very bedrock forever tarnished red.
For this one man’s beliefs were embraced
within vows thought sacred by the masses.
Never again quite the same.
Just one man’s pronouncement of a claimed truth.
“All the problems of the world lie at the feet of the Jews.
Destroy them and all life’s trials will be resolved.”
Perhaps he knew from the mirror’s silent stare.
But I think not.
III:
Should I know, gazing within
the first morning’s reflection of the mirror?
Our world cries for one man’s envisioning truth.
We search to understand the differences,
and to find the similarities amongst us,
before a tired Earth exhales one final breath.
An angel of mercy, hope, and salvation.
Or a demon seeking power,
returning only horror and death.
Fate beckons with a satirical, crooking finger
as the seeking ignorant masses swarm to hopeful honey.
Whose voice will it be rising from the wilderness?
Will it usher in a bright dawning, new day?
Or bring upon us tomorrows
which we wish would never be?
Will it be you, or will it be I?
Perhaps I should know from the mirror’s silent stare.
But I think not...
Fate shrouds Destiny within a dark veil...
blinding clear vision.
All that remains is Belief,
a clouded hope for possibilities.
© S.Loeding
All Rights Reserved
Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 8:40 PM UTC
The clay *** on the shelf that one day fell,
And broke to shards and splinters of itself,
Bemoaned its fate, bewailed its shards to tell
The other pots of clay upon the shelf:
"Oh, help my rotund but so stricken frame!"
"And meld the cracks and all the parts of me!"
"Behold the mess I am, behold my shame!"
"For what am I if I can't hold my tea?"
Oh, silly *** what are these things you say?
Who knows you better than your planner-plotter?
Yet you confide in other pots of clay?
Why not instead confide in your Potter?
They cannot help others if not themselves,
So seek the one beyond the pots and shelves.
(C)2020, Christos Rigakos
Dec 1, 2020
Dec 1, 2020 at 9:19 PM UTC
A frail man stood high on a granite precipice
as rain lashed harshly his wrinkled brow.
His dead eyes stared fixed into the abyss
while the deep clouds held an intemperate row.
The powdery embers of his belly’s red fire
had dimmed to flecks of faintest off white.
But now, not far from where this had transpired
shone out a tall lighthouse streaming bright.
And in its arc light’s blazing blue beams
the haggard man saw past his mind’s edge
to see he wasn’t the only in a feverish dream:
Multitudes stood each on a dark stony ledge.
Just then the others saw too through the gloom
that they were surrounded in this bracken dell
by bleak fellow travelers of similar doom:
They shared in their bones that they all were unwell.
This newfound chorus sang their litanies all
in crescendos of crisis and depths they bewailed
but the more that joined in, the music recalled
how by sharing their song they’d over darkness prevail.
There in the bellies of each in the throng
once cold embers began to kindle a spell:
This company of the crushed composed a new song
whose magic this sympathy symphony cast well.
Nov 8, 2024
Nov 8, 2024 at 12:55 PM UTC
They left us a birth prize
We all believe to be gold
They glided to the front
They called it bronze
The city engulfed by ire.
We concluded again they left us silver
They called it stone
The city bewailed of inequity
Blood, blood....
The city unrest
The antagonists sacrificed.
"Either bronze or stone show us our birth prize" The voracious compatriots claims trickled to the negotiating corner.
In spite of all words,
Their actions betrayed our claims.
Again, the city soaked in dread,
Antagonists wanted,
Heedless, we protested
"Give us our birth prize"
Antagonists thundering voices
silenced with prototypes.
Shrewdly, they dance to the city
with drums and packages: lustrous education, fat salary, electricity, infrastructures, healthy economy, social amenities, health care...
They boast of frequent return of all only with the birth prize.
In their wit, we found relief, and
We drummed home to feed on
repercussion of a new dawn.
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 1:57 PM UTC