"coned" poems
In tunnelled darks, pastes of reminisce
Outward disjoint points to irrelevance
Spooned and coned in cold mountaintops
The darks of sorrows and trails of struggles
Persistence patterns of self satire in gloom
Sunken in identity crisis of broad oceans
Stormy seas spotlighted by beatific stars
Trajectory of spilled ice in recurrent motions
A mere past cocooned by fears and tears
Clouded in thoughts that cruise and decline
Greyed white imprinted by sudden sadness
Madness echoes on arched ancient bricks
Checkered maniacs of fulfilled passions
Filed and iced in cased prolific memories
Cascades of sunshine tickles to warmth
Orchards of glow that bloom and grow
Picked, ticked and unpacked from boxes
Attacked, nurtured and stored in bliss
Eventful lessons unfolds in untold augury
A mission as the known permeates and fade
Windowed eyes all line up in parade
Mirrored lights digest the haunted haste
A stranger to self, an ally to another
A dance of bright entwine a twist of blur
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
her fantasy fulfilled
she guides him by pack-horse
up the craggy mountain trail
restrained by his inexperience
their destination above
her beloved secret valley
river far below, a faded blue memory
spying snow-coned peaks beyond
she fights the urge, for his sake,
to gee her horse the last few feet
almost there, past the jagged rocks
gap's a beckoning finger now
welcoming her home
so many years of separation
the valley bursts upon them
a composite of wondrous sights
compelling her to bring him
quickly through to hallowed ground
how many times she had returned
alone
she turns to him, a stranger here
only he deserves her secret place
watching his face
seeing elation and her radiance
mirrored simultaneously in his eyes
an expanse of horizon
mountain, aspen, florid fields, and water
nature's precious jewels adorn the vista
dressed with utmost care
to steal the unsuspecting heart
she leads him into the meadow
overlooking the turquoise cirque
cool waters in which she bathed
naked and contented
when last she'd journeyed here
meadow flowers cloak
the blanket she spreads for him
her fantasy fulfilled
his body framed against the sky
-limitless as their love- and
boundless beauty in this valley
Jul 10, 2012
Jul 10, 2012 at 10:37 PM UTC
DING - DONG
" this is a call to passengers traveling to Ithaka, by way of Kensal Green.
Please have your passports and tickets ready, to be seen".
So did I pack well for this adventure I 'm on,
do I really need the kichen sink I thought I 'd take along.
All those clothes to impress, suits, shirts, ties all layed
Where once all I carried , was a bucket and *****
Then my only foot-print was in soft gritty sand,
As I licked melting coned creamyness, that dripped on my hand
When every moment was filled with sun shine on skys powered blue
And even when grey, still the rainbow shone through
So leaving behind that tightly packed luggage, no room left inside,
But filled up with baggage, I'd aquired on the ride
Cluching my shoulder bag is all that I need, it seems
For tomorrow I 'll buy a new suit case and fill it, with new journyed dreams
DING --DONG
final call
Feb 28, 2011
Feb 28, 2011 at 4:08 AM UTC
One day...
This beautiful body will be, just a heap of ash
My name...
Will be cancelled from formal papers with a single dash
It's a birth and death lifecycle that we all ride
Tho sometimes people cheat death, so they remain clocked at the road side
The things we are running after, claiming its ours
Are laid back once you've been put to rest after hours
Being rich, being poor doesn't change the color of ashes to gold and dust
The bones and aftermath are identical once in grave, while the imitations put on our bodies,
rust
The organs burst first followed by the rest
Laying in dirt, bodies coned, head pointing to the west
Life fulfilling with what we have gained
Death comes uninformed, souls get pained
Burnt, buried, sank or served dishes to vultures
Life flies between living games of cultures
Souls light up the world as stars in the universe
Sometimes I wish, if life could also be reversed...
©sim
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 9:41 PM UTC
Lisa was carefully pulling a strand of cotton candy off a paper-coned “barbe à papa” - winding it around her finger while absentmindedly gazing at a carousel. She seemed hypnotized by its white horses, trimmed in gold, with their brassy red and blond manes, as they hopped, like slow-motion rabbits, in circles beneath wreaths and garlands of colored lights.
My watch jiggled me awake, mid-dream. I was bemused. It took me a moment to orient myself. I groggily pushed the sheets off and performed a big stretch. It's Monday morning, I think. “Alexa, what’s today?” I ask, to be sure. “It’s Monday, April 25th,” she says.
A beautiful, if cloudy spring morning was going to bloom on the other side of my jacobian glass windows - any minute now. At least according to my weather app. “Alexa, good morning,” I say, to start my rattling, sputtering, steampunk sounding coffee maker.
College time is warped, measured more in deadlines than minutes. There’s no plan other than your class or test schedule and let me refresh you on the rules – there are no rules, I’m free to do whatever I want. I actually chuckle at that thought.
College is transformative but there’s a hoary sameness to it. Read, discuss, review and test - wash, rinse and repeat. This morning is reserved for test review. I have a final this morning - well, sort of.
Some classes have a quintet of tests instead of a big midterm and nerve-racking final. It smooths out the stress, but you still have an almost forensic exploration of ideas, and you want the answers queued-up, ready for easy access.
I quickly washed and donned my workout-wear. A glance at my watch told me I was right on time. I’d loaded my shoulder bag last night, with my book, highlighters, my phone, Air-Pods and a water bottle. I grab it as I head out. I’ll do my review on the treadmill.
Anna opens her door just as I do mine - perfect. We’re off to the gym.
Apr 25, 2022
Apr 25, 2022 at 7:13 AM UTC
Something about you felt different
Like the way you fixated yourself on the passing building and shining stars from the car window. Sitting in the cold air-coned seats, that you still insisted were hot.
I just want to let you know that you won't have to watch me like those passing buildings.
I'm not passing by nor are you a pit stop.
And although stars may be blinding
I will always have an eye
For you.
Jul 28, 2019
Jul 28, 2019 at 9:43 PM UTC
And the rise of inequality
There’s this bird outside
That tells me I’m primal
But the screen in front of my face tells me
I’m tame
Domestic
A house cat
A coned dog
Let off my leash
Found comfort in a collar
Baby, if this earthquake hits
We’re all going to die
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 3:56 AM UTC
in that bed
where not once you slept
laying at your side
reading me tales of wonder
making my mind wonder
drifting me to the sea
on a fine evening
i saw the salty drop
of a twilight dew
falling away
windy evenings were the best
with our house eyes wide awake
the gentle wind who would
whispered sweet dreams
whisking me to a world of sleep
ca-coned with your love
and those honey rays of sun
folding me
packing me
like a love letter for your darling
ever so slowly
closing the lid
falling off to sleep
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 9:55 PM UTC
One day in summer's delight,
When the sun was shining bright,
I was writing poetry,
While sitting under the cherry tree,
I ate a cherry but strangely it was sour,
When all of a sudden my diary turned into a door,
I entered the magical door to see,
Which surprise was awaiting for me,
That door opened into a wonderland,
Full of candies and chocolate sand,
It was like a dream and soon I should wake,
Coz houses were delicious cheese cake,
Then a cloud came near to me ,
Made of marshmallows dear to me,
From coned mountains strawberry shake was flowing,
This was all mind blowing,
I saw there was a cherry tree too,
Saying these cherries are also for you,
I sat under it for a greed,
That these cherries might be sweet,
After eating them I felt dizzy,
So closed my eyes and went sleepy,
After a while when my eyes opened,
I did smile but was saddened,
To see that there was no more wow!
The sun was also setting now,
That nap had a great impression,
I thought this should be a written expression,
So "cherry tree " I wrote a poem,
After that I went to home.
Nov 15, 2019
Nov 15, 2019 at 11:29 AM UTC
The solitude of nature graves beneath
Bones of evil and righteous at feet
The darkest spills of blood soaked into soil
A barren land now producing usable oil
Near fields cultivated with crops
The evil spreads through sipped in drops
Consumed by many these crops when sold
Evil makes its entry, cold blood on hold
People get crazy as their blood absorbs the produce
Unknowing the dilemma that soon would be in use
Good over evil fight across the globe
Injecting every being, walking like a dope
Drugged and dosed flashed like zombie coned
Each walk away, their precious disowned
A world of dead, its soon gonna be
Unless the waves crush in land, so be it a sea...
©sim
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 9:10 PM UTC