"embarkment" poems
BRING ON THE PASSION ,
BRING ON THE FASHION .
THE STAGE IS SET ONLY FOR AWHILE,
DRESS UP YOUR PASSION IN STYLE.
PASSION IS THE FUEL IN THE FIRE OF ACTION ,
TAKE EACH STEP WITH NO CONFUSION .
PASSION IS THE SPICE OF LIFE GIVING IT ALL THE FLAVOUR ,
REFINED , ULTRASOPHISTICATED , SASSY , GALLONT TO SAVOUR .
PASSION IS THE FUSION FOR TALENT,
MASTERY IS THE KEY TO PASSION'S EMBARKMENT .
HEAD ON WITH YOUR PASSION ,
WHILE PASSION REVEALS THE DRAPPER OR DREARY COMPASSION .
PASSION IS THE DECOCTION TO LIFE'S MODIFICATION ,
PASSION IS THE "SHOW STOPPER" TO LIFE'S SATISFACTION !!
©MRUNALINI .D. NIMBALKAR
Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 10:05 AM UTC
I used to think
That the oceans were salty
Because they came from tears.
I thought that the oceans
Were an embarkment of water
From millions of people's sadness.
And the more we cried,
The more our sadness will dry out
Into the ocean.
If we managed to cry every tear,
Into the sea
We wouldn't be sad.
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 10:56 PM UTC
The first frost fell forcefully this morning.
December’s icy tendrils are splaying themselves fractally across the grass of my front lawn
its fingers are playing coyly with November’s hair.
Winter is anxious to begin
and December is chomping at the
bit
to get started
with its twisted work.
It would take off early if the calendar allowed it.
This year, the big sleep will be deep
and wide
and all-consuming.
Plains of crystalline water and
steamy breath and
frost in grass.
Today marks our embarkment on the slow descent into a colossal valley,
a valley that we will not emerge from for four or five months,
Well into next year.
I am peering down the slope of this basin,
which I am fully aware is far above my powers to control,
and I cannot help but feel
daunted
by the enormity of it.
and this house!
with its cracks about the windows
and age-old insulation
creaks and groans in the night.
This shelter
may just be the death of me.
So
batten down the hatches.
We are on the brink of something
destructively
beautiful.
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC
A cold quest from a fable that knew no moral,
And no one could understand the nature of embarkment,
To begin with.
This desert was well equipped with the dismal dusts of
Desolation, as well as apt in full with a barren hidden
Agenda.
Something shrieked a shrill-shivering scream
But twas the cry of the cracking in my own head
Which had ushered an alarming response.
Furthermore the clouds were dying
At a slow and prolonged pace-
Allowing their thinning whisps to shrivel
Into shrunken heaps of condensed natural failure.
I held no judgment close to me.
For what was taking event before me had no
Means of apprehension-
And I spread myself across those open miles,
To feel this world pass through me
In piercing sheets of dull pain.
Then I was rusted,
And with the ever-dying atmosphere
Of what was once called by beauty,
I dissolved.
There, with the black hunger
Of despair, I gave myself away.
The world had succumbed me in
Grayscale and intentions
Spewing blackness thick and sticky,
Hot and metallic like the calm of blood.
Nothing offered resource for hope,
And the only chance I had
For anything different
Was denied.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
slit at the ankle
i fell
was hard enough itself
laying down was no option
to rise was to live on
to stay down was ro die
it seemed impossible to stand again
but it had to be done
no matter how or where
what once was distant
is now my obly friend
yin is yang now
embarkment onto a new journey
darker than before than after
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 5:45 AM UTC
I must profess, I love you, In every formation.
Love comes yet swiftly flies to the ocean;
then to illustrious moons above.
Love illustrates soul entwinement
Planets, stars, and vessels align
Only to consummate embarkment
Foul creatures of the deep...
Beware of the wayward dove...
For love again then flows...
Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 9:01 PM UTC