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"boons" poems
1 Backwater nymph, queen of serpentine black tresses flaunting its coconut oil gleam; envy of  leggy girls from the Western ghat mountains, and lissome  maidens from the plains, who can never eat as much fish, even if they wish. Wearing hibiscus flowers, on coiffure like hood of a king cobra, your coral lips  silently speak of hot peppery kisses, waiting for me at shaded corners. Your sultry body in me arouses desires, that could only be whispered in your ears. 2 On a coconut lagoon when we met, for the first time and spoke, non stop, as if we knew each other life long, I heard music in your words. Oh! in the tongue you spoke, I heard the cadence of a nightingale ecstatic, on its wings above the clouds, love had prompted us to fly above the storms. Your  gleaming coal black eyes, like silver hooks, tug at my heart strings, that makes music, only I can hear, you are a free flying lark, above Kerala's lush coconut coast, that extends from sea shore to the mountains. 3 **When we relished steaming brown rice, mixed with clarified butter, with spicy tuna curry, tasting so dainty, cooked in bubbling sweet coconut milk, my eyes like two crazy butterflies circled your face, a blossomed Champak*. Mashed cassava and roasted squid, melted on our tongues, in a perfect culinary language any one would understand without effort. 4 Your lips had cinnamon scent, spice land's boons, when we kissed we touched heaven of scents and spicy tastes. When our eyes fell on each other, near the ancient synagogue, the hay days of which is over, a long jasmine garland coiling your hair,     marked you different, from the  the ladies of your neighborhood,                                           surrounding you. How well you did pretend that you have never seen my face before! You have mastered love's cunning, and all the wily tricks to cheat the enemies of our fiery love my Freudian mind perfectly understood. Just imagine the brouhaha we would invite, when we elope, in the last boat, to Alappuzha, stealthily at midnight.*
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May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 1:33 PM UTC
A love song for my Cochin* girl
1 Backwater nymph, queen of serpentine black tresses flaunting its coconut oil gleam; envy of  leggy girls from the Western ghat mountains, and lissome  maidens from the plains, who can never eat as much fish, even if they wish. Wearing hibiscus flowers, on coiffure like hood of a king cobra, your coral lips  silently speak of hot peppery kisses, waiting for me at shaded corners. Your sultry body in me arouses desires, that could only be whispered in your ears. 2 On a coconut lagoon when we met, for the first time and spoke, non stop, as if we knew each other life long, I heard music in your words. Oh! in the tongue you spoke, I heard the cadence of a nightingale ecstatic, on its wings above the clouds, love had prompted us to fly above the storms. Your  gleaming coal black eyes, like silver hooks, tug at my heart strings, that makes music, only I can hear, you are a free flying lark, above Kerala's lush coconut coast, that extends from sea shore to the mountains. 3 **When we relished steaming brown rice, mixed with clarified butter, with spicy tuna curry, tasting so dainty, cooked in bubbling sweet coconut milk, my eyes like two crazy butterflies circled your face, a blossomed Champak*. Mashed cassava and roasted squid, melted on our tongues, in a perfect culinary language any one would understand without effort. 4 Your lips had cinnamon scent, spice land's boons, when we kissed we touched heaven of scents and spicy tastes. When our eyes fell on each other, near the ancient synagogue, the hay days of which is over, a long jasmine garland coiling your hair,     marked you different, from the  the ladies of your neighborhood,                                           surrounding you. How well you did pretend that you have never seen my face before! You have mastered love's cunning, and all the wily tricks to cheat the enemies of our fiery love my Freudian mind perfectly understood. Just imagine the brouhaha we would invite, when we elope, in the last boat, to Alappuzha, stealthily at midnight.*
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That's me in the picture, A collage of brothers and sisters; I'm held high in my Mammy's arms, Days before leaving Ireland. Six months later, in our new home, On a couch in our front room, We pose again. (See the console in our romper room? It's testament to our boom and boons) There's thousands of miles between those shoots, And four million loved ones left behind In a life and land we won't have again. (That's the way life was back then) No Face Time, #MeTime, Sometimes a landline, But always a letter in a card at the right time. Brothers and sisters are missing. In neglected churchyards, And yet my mother smiles, All the while. Sixty years on, we pose again, Sharing four hundred years here, With seven hundred left behind: Years of Famine and Hedge Schools, Foreign invasions and Imperial Rule. We stand ***** shoulders touching, Between them loved ones missing; Gone before the shutter opened, A partial story as pictures go. We're Irish proud, Some of Canada's best; An Irish-Canadian When laid to rest.
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Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 10:14 AM UTC
Three Pictures
i might continue on with that trauma i might subside. violation carries with it sensate boons of empathy blue sky overrun with thanks arched-back breath you're afraid to ask me are your tears painful but i spear your question with a surplus love shouting joy as if there weren't a plea tremulously groaned share with me it isn't just release sweet freedom laughing out of doors you and she regaled in bursts iridescent meaning hung in curve of lock nape and open palm
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Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 10:00 AM UTC
imprisonment
Noble stranger Assemble these words For the occasion Building worlds With my persuasion Let's save them all With mirth and missiles And embrace the fall Deuces wild, a duality Every smile's a commodity Turn left Turn right The coast is blank My thoughts grow rank Forgive me for this suicidal explosion Yet I don't regret The commotion Seen in faces brightened by Cloudless skies Or in eyes Blinded by mushroom clouds That burned away our doubt No clout A gasmask and a nuclear sword But it's not a word Or a bullet It's the action that kills And the smoke that fills Our lungs Bulging through the spaces Between our rib rungs: The stepping stones to Hearts waiting to be Healed. From dried blood Long congealed Picked off Like the scabs that sealed Summers wounds Gathered together And reaped from harvest boons Glimmering Underneath the convalescent moons Struggling With the twisted fate They've to endure... But the crowd stands Demure.
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May 18, 2012
May 18, 2012 at 8:14 PM UTC
Exquisite Corpse
Hear this beloved river, in halcyon days I was loyal to this majestic tree, I am attached, to the sun I often spoke how loving the tree is to me, and how eager I too am to transfer sun's boons to my object of adoration. Each season did visit us, with a  message different, and I gathered this with joy: The tree is a book of nature for all to read and get exhilarated by the poems colorful that speak in metaphors the tree invent with water from  it's heart and sun's fire working the magic only a tree is capable of to show us as  flowers, fruits or  seeds that, attract satiate, drive to the pinnacle of aesthetic delight at times  create forests of future,with a vision too. I am just a word, with a limited meaning I hold, in the book of the tree ,that contains millions like me my unconditional love to the tree is my fulfillment, in return he loves every word that make his poem complete. We were in love all through the time I was green, the day I wore  yellow, got crinkled at the ends,I began to think of you, river, with a devotion unknown until then, though you a silver ribbon, was in my eye view , singing a song of mirth flowing towards the unknown, imagined in our dreams Our lives, at turns take directions that are not known the tree once all I have is now from my world detached flying down from the branch now a freedom I enjoy receive me on your bellowing bed of water, comfortable Let's flow together to the beloved destination,you've in mind.
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Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 11:01 AM UTC
Soliloquy of a leaf falling into the river of time
When I consider, pro and con, What things my love is built upon-- A curly mouth; a sinewed wrist; A questioning brow; a pretty twist Of words as old and tried as sin; A pointed ear; a cloven chin; Long, tapered limbs; and slanted eyes Not cold nor kind nor darkly wise-- When so I ponder, here apart, What shallow boons suffice my heart, What dust-bound trivia capture me, I marvel at my normalcy.
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1.4k
The Searched Soul
Moment of happiness And struggle of life, Liveliness of new born And Gloominess of death... Beauty of woman And boons and curses she bear, Strength of man And generosity he must show... Wheels of time And the never ending motion, Life full of promises And promises we fulfil...
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Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 8:32 PM UTC
Life' Inevitable
seeds sit in this swollen belly like snowflakes individuating fire. traceries of flame. sprouting extended families. the pregnant glow of our Mother carrying us. blue as boons conferred to what defines her   dark outline.
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Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 1:51 AM UTC
Pregnant Glow
Soul winning has limitless boons; The Shepherd's welcoming glee: To seek after the gone-astray sheep And lead them to the fold of mercy. He who converts a sinner to Christ Reduces in this world crime and evil; For they are creatures new who have Been born again and deserted the devil, Seeing for sweet sin the flesh yearns: To be fed often with delightful iniquity. By good deeds can no man be saved, But by the blessed grace of Calvary. Here, beneath the glittering sun-- The *wise shall inherit glad glory. And there, beyond the shifting clouds-- They'll be relishing with Jesus eternally.
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Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 4:32 AM UTC
The Wise Shall Inherit Glory
The leaking beauty such as rebirthed life And of the muddy earth slowly reclaimed Persephone’s return, a dance of strife Returning vividness, again, unmaimed Escaping the monochromatic cell By return of green, such luscious pigment By Flora’s grace and by the Shepherd's bell Revive events long free of merriment The songbirds relearn their forgotten tunes The bees prepare to collect flowered boons Hibernation ending, returns routine With warmth radiating, freely flowing Crawling from thy shallow cave, sunlight seen Flecked through dewdrops caught in Spider’s sewing A land of new dawns, forgiving thieves The fruit yet unblossomed, life is still ripe The tree naked, still missing its leaves Coverings absent before the first gripe The animals hunger to end their fast Humans hunger to remember the past Come, serenity destroying pigment Rend the ebony earth delicately Spread your lovely, inebriating scent And thus, set every fashion of life free Free from that immaculate white prison Free to frolic in fresh fields, unrestrained The sun, in more wakefulness, risen To maintain, nature’s mischievous work reined In preparation for the coming time The time of heat, growth, and color sublime
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Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 9:43 PM UTC
To Spring
Strolling in these crowded streets Wandering through memories The tune of love within Subdues all those without Angst filled void around Unmindful pain – baffling and novel See that familiar face around – no surprise People are but objects reflecting the mind Unbeknownst – love struck me And now I am clearly unsure What joy, what pain – what more? They say its fatal – but its poetry obscure. The emotional dissonance – is that right? A void that is tediously strong How do I speak my mind – confess the love I fear end would win me over, before long. Gap – the gap – this gap between… Would cocoon worlds' entirety The gap between the lips, longer still If sealed, once sealed – chime unity I could sing ballads of love But I am a lifetime shy to be a poet I speak my plight in vain hope Of being one – with you, just for a moment Virtues will be restored And boons have been bestowed If the night unfolds with you beside me, - My man of gold
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May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 8:33 AM UTC
Man of Gold
Sitting, dull, fingers fixated Shadow covers shimmering screen All feelings subsided or degraded Our choices made have their meanings faded We are not following our shallow dreams In the hollow, our greyscale souls scream What is this phenomenon? Soullessness in lack of love Or enlightenment in lack of light? Dissonance attracts to me Pieces fall like grey floating dust Darkness calls in on an autumn dusk Boons beneath our silence And silent thunder What decadence lies, so deep Beneath a white sky? How do I repair myself from under? And hear clear my love’s calling? When my eyes have been torn asunder I cannot bear to make myself die I keep switching from ditch to ditch No man’s land is lost without light The mist forming atop my mind No longer blind me from sight! Not without my heart’s light To put up a valiant fight In the highest of harmony I shall let my soul take flight…
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Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 3:03 PM UTC
Stereotony
at least one shooting every week congress & president mild and meek whatever they might do or say no blame goes to the NRA that keeps abusing the 2nd amendment      who needs militias today?! and thanks to that ****** arrangement more students weekly fall prey to psychopaths in our states whose weapons open the gates to free indiscriminate killing thanks to our politicians unwilling to forego all the boons they receive from their insane tycoons
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May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 6:12 PM UTC
AMERICAN HIGH SCHOOLS
i look up from my porcelain throne in the fifth point cafe 42 minutes before the am’s fifth point crown all whimsy-eyed and thrown and see "the end is near" so i think to myself “me oh my oh golly geez whatever will i do in sight of these” the ends of the tp roll, that is i look up from my pew and there’s too much **** on the ceiling for one sheet   i stammer then i realize, that’s not a ceiling,   that’s the sky and that isn’t **** those are scars scatting stars scattering i stammer, “fuck-it” what am i worried about, one last sheet those chronos blast-holes they’ll wipe themselves out heat death infinity splitters and all that such sigh-fanciful nonsense and so cheers, to life the ends to that which must overcome itself to the earth, "good night-boons" to the sky, "good night, moon" i blink once more and “sea-ya, night-time crouch-joys“
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Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 5:54 PM UTC
"what the ****
Oh maiden of white, Don in veil and dress, black as night, Your voice projects dark tones, To calm the cries of bright halos. Oh maiden of white, You dance under the moonlight, Your shadow hides the truth, To expose the lies of the world's boons. Oh knight of light, Clad in gear and mail, your face out of sight, Your bravery showers the evil, To show your smiles of good will. Oh knight of light, You cut through your foes with might, Giving out an outstretched hand, To turn every person into your friend. Oh maiden and knight of white light, Together you hold hands and fight, To show the world, light in darkness, While loving one another relentless.
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Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 6:28 PM UTC
Knight and Maiden
A LETTER TO MY FIRST CRUSH My Dearest Kevin My hands shake nervously as I write this letter   the ink made heart-shapes resembling pieces of my heart as it reach out to you                  I just want you to know that loving you isn’t easy My dozen of Harlequins and my entire Mills @ Boons collection of books Haven't prepared me enough To deal with a player like you I heard it through the grapevine, That you are heartbreaker, and a womanizer With only one thing on your adolescence mind My grandmother always told me, that Why buy the cow, when you can get the milk for free My grandma is a wise woman More like a heroine in my eyes I am the heroine of my life More like a Nancy Drew Without a clue I am never satisfied I am curious And mysterious However I am very chary Kind of gal ^ I do believe that I am in love with you today However, I might hate you tomorrow Because you never know with a secret admirer To the man I love today They are nothing more than I can say. I will wait for your reply my love
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Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
My Dearest Kevin
Come with me, I’ll show you where The wonders sparkle beguiling blessings Arousing perceptions of gratitude innate To heedless humans in lack of deceptions. Irrefutable eternal verities unfolding Elegantly before disallowing eyes On the expanding canvas made of space Moulding elements of plasmatic grace. Wind back the hands of time with me to witness The emergence of the first and most abundant substance, Hydrogen out of recombination epoch Finely orchestrated by physical laws to form and fuse in stars. Stellar nucleosynthesis where nuclear reactions Are boons in disguise for new combinations To bear lithium, carbon, neon, oxygen, iron, The entirety of the essentials on the periodic table. Indulge with me in the mesmerising marvel Of watching those incandescent stars go supernova, Their shock wave thrusting silver and golden nuggets Throughout infinity creating planets. Now return to Earth with me and look around, At the stars’ debris under your feet, feel the ground. Take this glass of water, a cocktail of hydrogen And oxygen, breath in! Gaze at all that exists. Stare at yourself, made of trillions of cells, Nourish the awareness that you are part Of the bewildering opus yearning for you To live your life and honour with consciousness The wonders sparkling beguiling blessings.
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Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 5:22 AM UTC
Beguiling blessings
And tell you I shall... Of boundaries I wish not to speak for all boundaries are sins sins committed against one's potential. Of rules I can tell tales concerned with scrutiny and enamored with safety your ancestors placed them where you now find them. Tales span eons tales spawn demons tales scrawl boons and tomes and epitomes On the present and the way things are, could have been or would have been. Many a scholar and clerk lay martyred or maimed It is a dreadful subject my friend for it bends the very fabric of humanity and within its confines, no room exists for morality and under its hood burns all reality. On God.... Well God is and isn't any continuation of the previous fragment would be a lie as I know not what God is or isn't, only that God exisits.
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Jun 21, 2010
Jun 21, 2010 at 12:35 AM UTC
answers (incomplete)
Almost died but this time I didn’t the pain of an artistic with an academic life being bound by wonton grasping don’t even seem to  know who or what I’m asking Got so lost again when a guide mentioned in passing Theres a fork in the road up ahead no choice is still a choice maybe end up dead Always walk the darkest path until i remembered the angel and made up my choice pull myself up like I hoist out the words when I’m verging on verbing in Voice. Seen demons, I hear hell, Headache of pride make ya head swell been sick as hell/ oh well stuck at the bottom molding unseen granting boons in the moon-lit wishing well But I ought to see my life as odyssey like I oughtt to be the hero more playful like the spirit otter i otter be Im stuck in feedback loop self but the emerging, unfolding, ever so bold in its calling states plainly that it is time to fall down shaking cascading blood caking memory set wrong or at least oblong in it’s making moments seem to make me lose my voice so how can I preach if I m not acting how can I teach If my arms ain’t out mama how can I reach? Wishing the earth calls me yelling come back my child Rest in my arms and forget I am death living memory leech. ╭∩╮(Ο_Ο)╭∩╮
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Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 12:28 PM UTC
Cascadespiral
shared intimacies and a lonesome whisper love that blooms and withers on cue where no one is just your own every moment shared with a select few all travellers converge at one port no one owns it, no one can claim to his was a journey so defiant he crossed the desert to arrive another one swam across oceans yet another bled his heart out all converge at the mecca of their calling and pray for the boons to be bestowed It was long ago, but still it seems fresh the blood is still hot as it was in veins imagination riots in unimaginable directions each one reason for his own misery like the strings plucked in harmony they weep the music of their souls no other tribute will do no other sacrifice will register
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Feb 12, 2010
Feb 12, 2010 at 3:07 AM UTC
Love of a *****
That Ladies compound such Prime Beauty's Field As Aramaic known one Pure Language be So would I jest to your Harmless Conceal And Mark our Saviour with such Blasphemy Yet through His Cross beg this Honourable Save Though by the Wheel my Allegiance despite His Universal Hand; Blow kisses to your knave Then her Just Hugs cause Rebellion incite And now? If that Editor shall you Heed And ferment every Nuggish Word he writes Would we say ****** As Osama indeed Laughed his Grand Project of Onerous Sprites. Still my Heart plants; Yet blast those Berry-Boons Too seeded for my Taste though fit for Raccoons.
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Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 4:38 AM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE SUNDRY - TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY TWO - TOM DALEY
Alone under starlit sky mulling boons of miseries' convoluted manipulations *when suddenly she runs by in gladness leaping high* I her secret laughing witness: *Clearly joy is more direct if happy is desired effect*
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Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 8:10 AM UTC
leaping in the dark
from the rust,red soil, the nastursiums come. first as tendrils, spiderlike then, the little, disc umbrella leaves. green and expectant, in the sub-tropical, late,winter sun. and soon the riotous ladies, come with skirts of colours bold and joyous resplendent in the party wear then, they will run and skip in rampant dance, over rocks, tree stumps climbing up the old fence. with pepper in their tongues and cheerful smiles. they are one of summer's, most happy boons... and soon and soon, they come, from the rust red soil they come...
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Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
nastursiums
Bygones will be Bygones and their baggage shall beg to plow again. Between the gains and confines of the wrestled soul, resinous, behind his silver buttons and navy knitted nylon beneath it grey, cunningly, breathes the pain of his flourishing.
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Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 7:02 PM UTC
Bygones boons