"enquiry" poems
on the other-side of a grave wall
there may rightly be a water-vessel
that is chicken-hearted by birth
there may not be around her
a stretching of water-body
do remember
when we all went that day to catch the train
the room of the rail-station was totally vanished
after enquiry it was revealed that
it had gone to observe holidays with its family
in the yolk of the eggs of the snipe
before opening the no-door to take a leap i also knew
that the top-branch of a green and large grasshopper
was mainly made up of white-stones
i did not also have
any mystic words
given by the moon
to recite silently
so without caring for the water
i made a all-complete ocean
with sands and cement
throughout the year
solvency gets down
from the body of the traffic signal
even-then
the monsoon this year
has been under the poverty-line
and the ray of hope is that
it is this circuitous route
leading to the top of the himalaya
that would one day
play the tune of differential calculus
on her guitar
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 6:58 AM UTC
Chance
is being in the right place
at the right time,
coinciding with the orbit
of another searching
the aspirations that you to seek.
A connection needs attention,
a compliment, a smile,
an enquiry of mutual interest
that engages instantly.
The abdication of convenient norms,
a shift in behaviour,
adopting a new travel direction.
It requires no discrimination,
but an open welcoming mind,
conjoining parallel convergence,
Meeting.
© Pagan Paul (2018)
Jun 7, 2019
Jun 7, 2019 at 6:27 AM UTC
at the end of a relentless enquiry
she was found sleeping in a cemetery;
as love prompted,from the dna of memories,
he resurrected the lost love in his poetry.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 7:43 AM UTC
Upon a midnight’s visage airy,
T’was a lake frozen by fairy,
…and weighing on mind’s tonnage bearing?
There for ice’ opaqueness winter’s seized,
…and arms encased in rime; trees.
“Oh my,”
At dark of sky thought the eye of something troubling upon my mind?
And the frosty cloudy glass,
Take to it upon my axe,
…and the sting of shards will pass.
And will I eat at last.
Thusly, thrusting through the skull, wettened, weakened for the cold.
…and burden carry I with me,
So encased in rime is he,
Doth make of fishing’s night a chore,
Something that I do abhor!
…and stare I did into that sea,
…my frory breathe in imagery,
Dismay it did fluster me, when my eye captured by Sea,
...and in whirling thoughts could reflection see?
…and something else came back with me.
Pool with drops, light curves, dark rings; in vapid mind now find nothing...
T’was a misty sheen seen after showers?
A damp muggy place of reflecting hours,
Typhoid strange did make snowing;
The Asteraceae of my wilted flowers,
…and that Wren philosophically sings,
…and at lake a lone be -ing,
Appearing peering my soliloquy, I am therefore I into thee.
…and fixed calm stared back at me,
“What pray tell I Enquiry?”
Did something else look back at me?
...and glaring gaze thus did see, something I had hid from me,
…and gawking in my mind did ogle; a malevolence of thought once frugal...
A gaping, oscillating, pierced Abyss, forced farther back into consciousness...
Deeper in and further still,
Climb atop Old Arthur’s hill,
…and the winged Raven’s nearer, reflected on me in my mirror?
…and time did pass turning frozen dying, icy tears of sadness from my crying,
…so did silent Hume release, all the pain that’s troubling me; whilst frozen frame thus held in peace?
I fell forward and felt submerged,
Both characters, both now have merged.
And that creature which accompanied me?
Found a solace back in wine dark sea.
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 12:31 AM UTC
.
*Wouldst thou not gaze again 'pon this humble fool?
For 'tis his script that doth countenance histories,
hence future repeats be 'pon his wither and whim,
thou shouldst see twice his story woven sisterlies.
Wouldst thou not read more of this humble fool?
Mayhap his words doth soothe thy enquiry,
his want and wander leadeth to a contentment,
thou shouldst not ignore content of ye Fool's Diary.
Wouldst thou not focus true 'pon this humble fool?
Perchance his poems doth resonate sweetness unbound,
pray do a'linger and a'loiter 'pon his fancy delicacies,
thou shouldst taketh thy fill of love and wisdom found.*
© Pagan Paul (22/04/19)
Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 2:11 PM UTC
Sunlight dapples in
between trees.
Images of brightest
green, pale lemon.
Gaily illuminating
your face, your laugh.
Intensity buzzes
in our shared desire.
As bees humming
around a delicate garden.
True North
to the heat of your eyes.
Sun starts gradually
setting into the West
One enquiry left
on an ever darkening stage.
Who be, if not
two bees, to dance by stars?
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 4:09 PM UTC
Globally dense, our ailing nation
makes one weep for sheer frustration
thoughts and dreams grow numb.
Tech-addled students scroll on phones,
‘midst scent of android pheromones,
wafting digital dumb.
Pop-culture, narcissist unkind
dispenses with the human mind
which, failing further, falls behind
the grimly global curve.
We read, in writing on the wall
arithmetic’s impending fall
while numbers loiter in the hall
to get what they deserve.
ENQUIRY, tagged as D.O.A,
a sheeted stiff, is wheeled away
her mourners left to grieve.
entitled maiden, full of sass,
LIBERTY begs a bathroom pass
her bladder to relieve.
When zit-faced rebels run the show
the dismal ratings plummet low;
a vulgarized cartoon.
Descending to unfathomed levels,
Ignorance applauds her devils
calling out their tune.
PATRIOTISM, tarred and feathered
headless, claws its cage untethered
foul, unloved, unfree:
Another casualty of time
which fell for want of noble rhyme;
to water FREEDOM’s tree.
CURIOSITY, half asleep,
now stirs and murmurs from the deep
uninterested, untaught.
She grows yet duller in her ways
returning to her ocean daze,
(her schools of fish uncaught).
HISTORY, dormant, lies in dust
a narrative no man can trust
a book no scholar reads.
Events unstudied as designed
wherein the heart of humankind
for want of context, bleeds.
DEMOCRACY degenerates
until God wills and activates
a nation’s drive to learn.
Curricula will be made void;
disheartened teachers unemployed,
their wisdom fit to burn.
You think the past was less obtuse?
Less prone to youthful thought-abuse?
Perhaps… back in the day.
And though it may have been the same.
this poet opts to place the blame
on digital delay.
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 6:55 AM UTC
We walked the trail alone we thought
Until we heard an axe strike knot
A young man it seemed with strength of ox
He was wise and bright as a fox
His hand was soft his skin was smooth
No worry it seemed dried that fountain of youth
But on reflection we realised
This man had knowledge from paradise
We talked and laughed and thanked that man
For clearing wood with attitude of can
We knew his life in those moments of trust
We heard stories of war and love and lust
As small stones drop into enquiry waters
Sink deep and settle and move with order
His life force moves across the world
As his ripple lives and lasts and is heard
His vibration will continue his soul a force
To inspire and encourage us all back to the source
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 6:12 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Perfect As you are, your the epitome
Of my existence and the flower that grows from my
Dome invading all my space courageously giving me
The upper hand to be your man in all this filth,
In all this rage,
In this wicked world , your my girl,
You might as well get use to it,
Abusing it,
Like prescription drugs,
Slow and vague as a slug,
Enquiry number of hugs,
I'll give you all the love that you need relentlessly
Claiming that you are mine and shouting to the world
That you're the one that has captured my body , my mind
And my soul,
Inside the space of my arms,
Your the one that I'd hold,
When I don't tell you my secrets then you thinks that it's cold,
She said "what are you afraid of" I said "wouldn't you like to know",
If you wanna feel yourself again just wiggle your toe,
Theres no choices in this life for us to make time go slow,
I have everything to live for , don't need a bone to throw,
If you wanna move to this place or this place then we'll go,
Pulling apart puzzle pieces of being a strong minded human being
Erasing things of the past then end up telling all your frienemies lacking
Discipline and grace as you try to hold it together but it gets
Hard at times to wonder where you'll end up eventually,
I know no one will ever be into me,
And I've been fine with that since a pre-teen,
I got style and grace and creativity,
You're lacking all of the things that you seem to be.
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 6:10 PM UTC
It’s Monday afternoon, the first day after Fall Break. Several of my suitemates are here, relaxing a bit before we hit the dining hall and then scatter, like debris from a bomb. There are a zillion things to do on campus, on any given night. Lisa and I are going to a seminar, Anna and Sunny are going to a Uni play and Leong’s going to see a documentary.
Leong was hunched over a cup of dark tea, reading ‘J-14’ magazine. “Do any of you guys think Travis Kelce is hot?” She asked, not looking up. Leong subscribes to several ‘teen’ magazines, like ‘J-14’, ‘Girls' World’ and ‘Girl’s Life.’ She says that Yale is her chance to be the ‘American teenager’ she could never be at home (Macaw, China). We’d make fun of her if we didn’t all read them after she finished, and they were lying around.
“No,” said Lisa and I about the same time as Anna and Sunny said, “Yeah,” to varying degrees.
“Did you think he was hot before he started dating Taylor?” she asked, pushing the enquiry even further. “No,” said Lisa and I repeated in unison - we had this down now.
“He wasn’t on my radar,” Anna admitted. Sunny said, “Yeah, same here.”
“Why do YOU think he’s hot?” Leong asked Sunny (who’s fem-facing).
“I can appreciate a hot guy,” she said, sounding a little defensive, “as someone who could draw hetero interest.”
Then Lisa reported, from head down in her textbook, “Your mouth retains the DNA of everyone you ever kissed.” She looked up and asked me, how many guys have you kissed?
“You mean politely kissed or Deep-kissed,” I asked back, tilting my head, sticking out my tongue and slobbering it around, like a dog eating peanut butter.
“They mean French-kissed,” she replied, rescanning the last paragraphs as I calculated.
“So, the five guys I dated, but we used to play ‘spin the bottle’ at parties too.. so.. 25?” I said.
“You **** she laughed. “I have my truth,” I updogged, “How about you?”
“I’d forgotten ‘spin the bottle,’ Lisa admitted, recalculating.. “Yeah, 25 sounds about right.”
“Leong?” she asked Leong. “Two,” Leong answered instantly.
“Anna?” she asked Anna, so Lisa was going completely around the room with this survey.
“25 sounds right” Anna answered, “including spin,” (the bottle).
“Sunny?” Leong asked Sunny. “A HUNDRED,” I said, hijacking Sunny’s answer, and everyone chuckled. Every Friday night Sunny brings a different girl home to ‘spend the night.’ It’s rather impressive.
“A few,” Sunny answered, shrugging nonchalantly, “A girl doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“I’ve got a calculator,” Anna said, “if you change your mind,” holding her phone up like an offer.
Oct 23, 2023
Oct 23, 2023 at 5:09 PM UTC
Reality is so unreliable. In the water of life we surf the wave of chance. Rise or fall as hunters in the snow. The isolating future is already here. But people are still people, they still need each other. The anachronistic branch of knowledge we are dedicated to — the day in, day out — is a deluded science. It is we who would be the objects of enquiry and fascination to an alien mind. Humanity is the true wonder, the true miracle.
Mar 10, 2025
Mar 10, 2025 at 9:48 AM UTC
The desk sergeant sat at the front desk
in a small police station.
A slow day near the end of the shift
in a small rural town.
Close to a sprawling national park
outside just getting dark.
The young man walked up to the counter
holding a metallic strip.
He looked at the unidentified material
what have you got there son?
Asking as in front of him it was placed
wondering what he faced!
Found it while out walking on open ground
saw something fiery fall!
A bang a flash from the skies a craft fell
he said in a story like way.
The policeman puzzled he heard no sound
when was this thing found?
A few days ago on the other side of the moors
the lad reluctantly said.
Suspicious still the officer doubted the story
cautiously touching it.
There was a strong electrical charge up his arm
pulling back with alarm!
I do not believe your story now tell me the truth
where did this come from?
There was fear in the lads eyes as he owned up
admitting he stole it.
A week before from a friends garden shed
drawn by a loud hum in his head!
It was not a metal from this planet he was sure
knowing it was important.
How long it had been there he could not say
but was omitting a signal.
He was going to keep it but became petrified
with that noise humming inside!
The lad went quiet backed away turned and ran
hands on his ears!
Alone the policeman began to hear the sound
getting louder in his head!
Leaving his post intent on ringing the Inspector
a flash no building any more!
An enquiry followed no explanation for the blast
a mystery forever cast!
The young man nobody had seen or heard of him
missing to was the unidentified material!
The Foureyed Poet.
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 9:30 AM UTC
Those hands
Speak more than does the face.
They clasp or lace,
They grip or poke
Hold firm.
They open in enquiry
Or close to form a fist
Or furl and unfurl to try and give the gist
Of some internal land.
Those hands I love
Are square and brown
With rough and bitten nails.
The finger ends are blunt,
The skin is coarse
With work.
Those hands are always warm and strong
And mine in his makes me a child again.
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 3:48 PM UTC
"Konnichiwa"
A voice calls out,
foreign, disembodied.
Once again but louder-
"konnichiwa!"
I walk dripping from the shower
to the bedroom.
Upon my bed a fresh white towel
lay folded and
upon that my 'phone.
Vibrating,
It's her.
Two women in my room
-one does the bidding
of the other-
The ring-tone
female and Japanese.
I place the 'phone
upon the dresser,
take the towel
from off the bed
and dry myself.
I lay upon the fresh sheets
and sigh.
She calls again.
The voice enquires:
"Konnichiwa"
the tone becoming
increasingly irritable.
I stare at the ceiling.
She calls again.
I turn my back on her enquiry
and lay staring
with my eyes closed
waiting...
re-edit
words and foto Tommy Carroll
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 7:28 PM UTC
JARED KUSHNER HAS A RUSSIAN CONNECTION
A SECRET COM CHANEL WAS SET UP
ARE THERE ACTUAL TIES TO RUSSIA
OR IS IT A STORM IN A TEA CUP
JARED IS THE SON IN LAW AND
A FAMILY MEMBER OF TRUMP
AND AN ADVISOR TO THE PRESIDENT
OR JUST A VERY SMALL STUMP
ONE THING IS FOR SURE THAT THE
FBI ENQUIRY WILL FIND OUT THE TRUTH
IF THERE IS A RUSSIAN CONNECTION
THE PRESIDENT WILL GET THE BOOT
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 7:30 PM UTC
COMEY AND PRESIDENT TRUMP
NOW BATTLE IT OUT
LETS HOPE THE ENQUIRY TELLS
US WHAT ITS ALL ABOUT
ITS ALL ABOUT RUSSIA AND
TRUMPS EXPLOSIVE TWEETS
ITS MY WORD AGAINST YOURS
CAN PRESIDENT TRUMP BE BEAT
YOU MUST DROP THE RUSSIAN INVESTIGATION
AND BE ONLY LOYAL TO ME
I AM PRESIDENT TRUMP
I AM GOD DON'T YOU SEE
Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 6:53 PM UTC
When it comes to big decisions
We often don’t want to decide
Because we have some motives to hide
We don’t want to share them
Because we are afraid
Of what might be said
We are afraid
Of people who have power
Over our feelings and thoughts
Who’s bad opinions about us
Feel daunting
Or because us not wanting
The expectations of others
To be lower
We are afraid
Of not appearing perfect
And pretend that nothing has it effect
On our decisions, thinking,
And emotions
We are afraid
Of digging deep
Finding something that creeps
The hell out of us
Were are afraid
Of searching
Because the path
Long and steep
Might lead
To our ugly truth
As dark as an abyss
But its amazing
Why the most difficult thing
For us to understand
Is ourself
When we are with ‘it’ a lifetime
When we can hear it think
Feel it feel
Watch it change
It makes we wonder
What we were doing
All this time,
Beside not understanding ourselves?
It makes me think
What worth have all these shelves
Of books and diaries and pictures
If they don’t help us figure out
Who we are?
It makes me ask
What value traveling so far
Around the world has
If it doesn’t make us
Tackle the ultimate task:
To understand
Were we stand
From accepting
Our essence
That Justifies
Our presence
Decisions
Actions
The wise keep repeating
Know yourselves...
But we keep deceiving
Ourselves
Yet the most important thing
When dealing with ourselves is
Not to lie
The most important question
To ask ourselves is
“Who am I?”
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 4:44 AM UTC
Thea, the goddess of the earth
Sits like a rock in her chamber of woven light.
The fortunate who enter here
Are blessed and tormented and burned and held.
They arrive knowing that they must make a sacrifice;
They do not pay in money but in tears,
In truth wrenched from the soul,
In accountability and naked raw awareness.
None who arrive do so lightly
But all who come leave lighter.
Their confusion unraveled through skilful enquiry,
Cut by a sharp silver sword of truth and knowing.
Enter - but do so with reverence and respect.
This is a place of healing!
Men and women are unmade and made here.
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 4:58 PM UTC
Curiosity,
stir with,
directed enquiry,
add helping desire,
dash humility
Sift through,
experience.
Consider as
simmering.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 8:15 PM UTC
He had been a vocal critic of the government
trying to expose their lies
that the people accepted as the gospel truth
knew he was being watched
certain it was not paranoia nowhere to hide
his privacy was denied!
His video channel censored and taken down
found it hard to be heard
began to feel his life maybe in grave danger
still determined to speak out
as agents began rapidly closing in on him
knew getting real facts out slim!
Began to shut himself away kept in contact
with others in his circle
who became known as the hard resistance
telling what was really going on
with little success as the public in a bubble
unable to see they were in trouble!"
Most wrapped up in themselves unable to see
a bigger picture of a society
those divided and trapped by social injustice
wars destruction of nations
where the innocent were continually dying
as upon us all they were spying!
He was a sincere man who loved his family
but he was found with his wife
daughter and pet dog slaughtered at home
the official line he was the killer
murdering them then committing suicide
but his friends knew they had lied!
All his files and documents were missing
yet the conspiracy was accepted
for most of the population it was shocking
a tragedy but what happened
main news outlets clearly said it was true
so no official enquiry would ensue!
Is this another conspiracy theory or a fact?
#TheFoureyedPoet.
Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 1:26 PM UTC
at this time of night
a question of wine
knows the answer
despite no enquiry
the show must go on
accomodating misunderstandings
improvised proceedings
when your glass gets to
low tide and having eyed
half a bottle still waiting
just one more
change of channel
to an athlete changing essence
visiting a vineyard to
taste other flavours
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 8:10 AM UTC
Some are running,
some in panic,
finding platforms
and gates.
Some on visits,
some on tour,
with families,
officials or mates.
Some at the enquiry,
first timers in confusion,
asking for directions.
Some shopping,
gifts and mementoes,
some at the phone
charging locations.
It seems a place
that never goes to sleep,
and never rests a while
Reaching people
to destinations,
near or across
thousands of mile.
The announcement
above echoes,
on every notifications
and details.
They leave no stones unturned,
the crew and the members
of all Airways.
Copyright © PS
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 5:32 AM UTC
The slow tea flowed with a knowing tease, letting the flavour seep bone deep as I watched with a growing marrow-level ease, feeling the aroma sink gently down lower than ever before, leaving a lasting trace of exotic leaf, as her voice broke through the spell with her ancient enquiry: "milk and two sugars was it, dear?"
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 6:00 PM UTC