"congruous" poems
on poetry
A poem is only a mouthful of air
until it is read.
Imagine it. Craft it carefully
from your heart's flesh.
Seal it in a bottle
of clear, pure words.
Set it adrift on
the ocean of time,
life's restless surge,
until a few congruous spirits
pluck it from the sea-wrack
and recognize a message
that illuminates their souls.
Readers find writers;
never the opposite.
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 7:44 AM UTC
I was strolling through my dreary and dull road,
When, I met a man, who touched my soul,
He walked towards me with his colorful laugh,
Changing the dusty and dull road to a vibrant photograph,
For you who contains similar depth as the capicuous ocean,
Knows how to embrace heart's every emotion,
For you who sought inspiration in all,
Isn't you an inspiration to all ?
You who is congruous to the Mountain who raises himself above the earth, always seeking the sky's divinity,
And Away from the earth's guilt and sins, but still belongs to the earth,
For I whose poetry seldom rhymes well,
Can never fathom the ineffable composure of your trueself.
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 2:15 AM UTC
To the most stoical being alive,
Who acted as an asylum to the insolent offspring,
And made easy all these strives,
And gave my existence an inconcievable upswing.
He led me to the innocuous,
And made sure every ambition wasnt left astray,
Sustaining his progeny utmost congruous,
And desired us ecstatic and allay.
It wasn't as facile as the naive do think,
Despite all anguish and deprivation,
In the times he had dismay make him rethink,
But succoured me without an utter of isolation.
The real chevalier,
The benign protector,
The light hearted buoy,
And most importantly none but an adoring father.
Jan 13, 2019
Jan 13, 2019 at 10:23 AM UTC
Dead names with living faces,
histories behind both
partial or unknown.
If you want to know me,
let me speak,
If you let me speak,
there might be silence.
Because
we both know the dangers of familiarity;
inconsistencies with life and desire;
we both think [we know],
yet do so little.
To speak of I:
to recount,
my actions,
strained decency and flaws.
To form a congruous picture of self...
I find ridiculous.
Let me swing between these lines and labels and lean on whatever may bear my weight.
I will leave you to decide who I am.
Whilst I will my chariot
to keep to who I am.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 2:06 PM UTC