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vircapio gale Aug 2012
on moonstone slab Manmata flames again
from out of ashes rises, gloating unfinality of Shiva's dance
reincarnate offering of endless Self
in Lakshmi's avatar
a fateful prince's heart to lance

and lanced his heart her visage did,
                                                     though with vaster pinions fully pierced was she, in depths
                                                          ­                                                                 ­                 without rivalry~

his lust was sharp to invite solitude,
but easy to conceal,
he imagined cupping her against him,
scoured memory of upward glimpse,
inch  by  inch
with added imagery, invention moulding her
beneath his grasp
from forehead curls along
glowing skin and eyes
to curving, palatially appareled ******* . . .
her open lips . . .  her hips
--but after, merely to dismiss
and even sleep a bit
and quip inside at irony
to be at mercy
of a girl in flowers
when he with arrows demons lay to rest
(though she would, within the selfsame hours lose her wits ;)

in cityscape descried the triad:
gold dome gifts for sky
in shining generosity
Mithila's people overflow with joy
exuding free abundance carelessly--
jewelry loosed on playful street
from overkeen embrace, is left to lie;
loss in ever-present wealth nigh obsolete

musth of elephant, froth of steed,
floral garlands tangle, line and mix
for clouds of honey-bees to lick their feast.
a bustling of virile acrobatic populace--
symphonic mux of chaos tressed,
metropolis of idylls coalesced;
drums, races, grinning faces flinging courtship,
smirking merchants under wigs
bathers splash exotic fish to flit and weave
while ballads sift for higher pitch of love

from elevated terrace ladies prance
and watching from an inner spire
the princess spies her prince--
emerald shoulders, lotus-petal eyes
Vaikunta hidden from their mortal sight
but straining recognition there,
a union ageless as the stars
inspired suddenly another first:
Rama's transfixed stare she feels and meets,
strangers locked entwining glances
--fated simultaneous-- electric heat   like
from a planet sparking for the taste of outer space --
the lightning burns its mark ensouled
in blooms beyond her ripe, anthophilous form,
verdant visions planted in the rays of light
between two instant loves
to slip inside the eyelid entrance
and evermore impregnate with a glory ill,
as separation wills,
to colonize throughout with other Being there
phantasmal yearnings of entrancing elegance
--from dawn of time instilled, akashic script
of binding hurt with joy in love's embrace
condemn desire to a writhing term
when not imbibing such togetherness
a worldless crypt preferred

and so as swift as gymnast flip to fall
the heart is gushing toxic lack,
epic ventricles the viscose tug
in fluid inspiration wrote of Sita's
sudden addict gnashing inner plight
while slips the sight interred within the crowd,
as if a sorcerer the cosmic sea to play her destiny:
the waves inside enraged to overwhelm
the sudden coral crust beneath the swell
an unmarked seaside's lavish drown unto the land
and reeling send this fragile ******
into wilting, her floral haze to drooping fell...
        in revelatory crash of passion's oceanic weight...
attendants pamper uselessly
--from swoon to mood irate
to wait until the next appearance of her mortal god
the only one to sate the shameless need
entwining up within a clenching wrack of milky fits
from bed to sweaty bed they take the burning maiden~
the outer sea inflow in calming dusk meant nothing to the agony of new romance
                       sequestered in hymenic fire, dawning brilliant
                                                       ­                                omni chakral pierce in rays,
                                                                ­                                                              tot­ality relentlessness
and therein descry a wholeness
  yet unregained
a hopeless birdsong careless as the wind
in caring strokes of pollen redolence
for forest ears an endless vibrate mate
of elemental ease the simmer float
upon the dukkha broil paths embroidery of karmic
cookery the godly recipe invoked,
gibed her without cease,
****** flare eternal guna coals to stoke
and spite her with their peace,
for her attainment only next to he
the moon communes the message blinding clear
amid the ghee her girls would light in care
to soften her despair -- but only aggravate her state --
and so by dim refracted moondrops set,
in only gemlight, Sita basks in pain
her gaze entrained by night obsessively
while overhead the crescent hook beams
freely in to fertilize her all-too-chastely girdle there,
petals wilting under body pressed to slab of stone
as mounting groan on groan intones her writhing questioning
of whomever he could be to cast her moaning so
a deity in maidenhead unwitting of such otherlife
left by endless, anthrocosmos' whim to ache, and alone
in wonder scream abandonment from aether poise
confusion reigning noisome nescient choice


















.
Manmata: the god of love, who Shiva is said to have burned to ashes with the purity of his contemplation
Lakshmi: Hindu goddess of wealth, prosperity (both material and spiritual), fortune, and the embodiment of beauty. She is the consort of the god Vishnu. She takes her mortal form as Sita in the Ramayana, destined for Rama (who is Vishnu's avatar).
Guna: an element, 'thread', 'string' or principle of nature; the three gunas are (sattva), (rajas), and (tamas)
Dukkha: suffering
Anthro-: as in 'human'

"The impact of the Ramayana on a poet, however, goes beyond mere personal edification; it inspires him to compose the epic again in his own language, with the stamp of his own personality on it.  The Ramayana has thus been the largest source of inspiration for the poets of India throughout the centuries . . . Thus we have centuries-old Ramayana in Hindi, Bengali, Assamese, Oriya, Tamil, Kannada, Kashmiri, Telugu, Malayalam, to mention a few."   -R.K. Narayan (whose prose version of Kamban's 11th c.e.Tamil --originally written on palm leaves-- i'm reading at the moment, and whose advice i've found myself compelled to follow. in no way am i an authority, but an amateur--literally--'in love')

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/ramas-inauguration-facing-the-murderous-gluttony-of-thataka/

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/soorpanaka-the-demon-as-kamavalli-lusts-for-rama-1/
bones Sep 2014
The night
the moon started
to drip
a silver drop
fell from
it's tip
and carved
in the dark
the sweep
of an arc
so fine
we thought heaven
had split.
Lucy Jun 2013
.
.

Sorry dear, my life is falling
catch me as I glide
I watched the moondrops
float around me
they fear not of te ride
and when the moondrops
rest in heaven
cool on ocean side
I rest beside them
cold and wet
for fear is no goodbye


*

Sorry deer, my life has fallen
catch me as I glide
feed me when I parish
don't kiss me while I sleep
this life floats on
like ***** of cotton
no worry of the ride
just sink
and wonder by
then rest
on ocean side

still floating


.
.
.
bones Oct 2014
......Breathing Space......
She left when she realised he
Was closing more doors than agreed
When he asked her for why
She said look at that sky
That's the breathing space my lifetime needs.

......Thoughts......
When they're finally free of their chain
And falling about you like rain
Don't be wasting concern
On a fear they will burn
They might not fall your way again.

......Next door's cat......
There's an old man next door in the flat
He shares with his skinny pet cat
Whilst nobody here
Has seen him this year
His cat's grown disturbingly fat.

......Popular......
Some people are popular folk
But none quite so much as the bloke
Who waits in the park
Each day after dark
Selling sweet smelling clouds of blue smoke.

......Dead Fred......
The problem with my Uncle Fred
Is he keeps coming back from the dead
'It's a bit ****** cold
Down in that hole
Stop putting me back' he said.

......Reverend Ted......
The problem with Reverend Ted
Is he keeps rising up from the dead
'Heaven and Hell
are all very well
but I'd rather be home' he said

......Pop......
He was just building up to a scream
When his head fell apart at the seams
Days at a time
He had lost to that rhyme
Now he'll never find out what it means.

......Madman with gun......
I once knew a man with a gun
That he aimed everyday at the sun
As it sank to the ground
He fired off a round
And went to bed thinking he'd won.

......Madness pt2.....
The last man alive raised his gun
and declared open war on the sun
as it sank to the ground
he put the last round
through his head convinced he had won.

......Moondrops......
The night the moon started to drip
A silver drop fell from it's tip
And carved in the dark
The sweep of an arc
So fine we thought heaven had split.

......Holidays on the moon......
We holiday each year in June
On the back of a crescent moon
In a house made of cheese
Where you eat what you please
Last year I ate the front room.

......Gravity......
Ever since the day of my birth
I've been jumping for all that I'm worth
It's jolly bad luck
That gravity *****
When you're trying to leave planet Earth.

......Venus......
I've been asking directions to Venus
And it seems that the space in between us
Is an awful long way
So I'm leaving today
On a rocket that's shaped like a frankfurter.

......Martin's Limericks......
With a limit of only five lines
The first two of which have to rhyme
With the one at the end
Martin my friend
You nail it every time.

......My Poor Limerick......
From an ivory tower of prose
It's a long way to look down your nose
At my poor limerick
That you'd beat with a stick
If you could without creasing your clothes.
Thought I'd lump them all together, you might have seen a couple before...Sorry if so.
Thank you Martin and thank you Kalypso for your company :o)
M G Hsieh Jun 2016
no matter how
often i seek
it is you
who must allow
me to see
Where zebra dance
Pale moondrops break the great divide.

Decadent shrubbery gives way
To the rhythmic pattern of hooves
And the ground is alive and fluid.

The air is thick with childhoods odor,
Maturity’s complexion held at bay
As thoughts pure and simple
Make fantastic again
What had become unremarkable.

In a hidden bit of forest
Only zebra could know
Pale mushrooms grow as artifacts
Of the seeds that we have sewn

Reminiscent paths of the things that might have been
With lacy tendrils weave intricate loops through the air
As striped bodies leap in holy communion
Writhing in glory to the nights ephemeral song.
Spiros Zafiris Oct 2012
a noon ritual,
the saying of her name
credit a leaf for longing
a leaf fans the pain
wounded trees weep like no human ever has
rate your pain a pittance
compared to the tears of trees

mere human pain--
stand by a mourning tree and
witness your moondrops of sadness in magnitude
the leaves of wounded trees
will find you sympathetic
they are natural bodies of appreciation
if noon finds one crying, weep along
~~
..(C)1986/2012 Spiros Zafiris
..channeled; spirit Ram
~~
Gigi Tiji Feb 2015
2/12/15
1:49am
little words
inside your face
make up quite
a lovely lace

find the one
that makes it true
for you for you
for you for you

plant it in the soil soil

2/12/15
1:50am
find the time
to do an intricate dance
learn to sing and learn to prance
I know it's quite an interesting stance
but give it a chance give it a chance

2/12/15
1:51am
there's motion in the wordkin
like the birds they fly together
they look to eachother to see
which way they want to be want to be

2/12/15
1:52am
new page new page
wrinkling like the old age
find the witch find the king
find the queen find the mage

be them all be them all

2/12/15
1:57am
Absent-minded
Bread
Crumbs
Don't
Ever
Fight
Going
Hither
Infinitely
Jingling, the
Kangaroo
Lagoon,
Monsoon #
Nineteen,
Ochre
Pinelands, a
Quiet
Respite
Starting
To
Understnd
Virtue
While
Xe
Yearns
Zealously

2/12/15
2:04am
blue ink deep blue sky
moonshine moondrops
floating dock moonshimmer
moonshimmer glass ripple
water lap cloud breath
sing sway sailboat
billow flag billow
wind kissed sails
easy cool breeze

forevereverland
error404notfound Aug 2014
my mother always found souvenirs meaningless
two years back, you brought
something back from China for me;
I've never been to China

someday I might swing by
on moondrops with a nightingale's cry
and find out which pack of 10s this pen came from

and suddenly one day
I realise that all I have left of this person
is this souvenir from two years ago

— The End —