"mowgli" poems - Hello Poetry

Within this jungle, which is ours I ride the back of Thunder-cloud, my friend Around and through the thickets thick banyan trees & palm fruit fallen leaves Down muddy earthen paths until everything is green and shadows until inside its heart, the rain forest trees of this jungle are city buildings - tall and choir of fauna high and low do not fear to sing beneath our cathedral's shade In this kingdom of flora and ruby rich dirt belongs to thunder-cloud and dirt-poor me A Mowgli on his elephant, hollars ahead to any that hear "We are free!" Here, far from the whips' lashing, guns, away from the loud business of murderous money They who say that I am nothing in their eyes who abacus my worth with looks with upraising lust of wolves but I a free man, a simpleton for beloved (Earth) I am dark skinned Krishna on my steed of thunder-clouds A native son of brown & green wilderness caterwauling to the beyonds unknown Within our jungle, brother thunder, my elephant of deep clouds gray we are Mammoth and as wild as wide as open as free... with every step forward on this living journey we will take a peaceful kind of smile will only be what is written upon each lovely lovely face *(Within our jungles...we live simply without the Man's hate not today will I hunger, nor will I thirst fed on real wonder, drank clouds of Himalayan rain without a rupee to my name... on the back of thunder my gentle Ganesh - I have no one to blame.)*

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May 20, 2016

May 20, 2016 at 3:11 PM UTC

butch-decatoria

MOWGLI ON THUNDER

Within this jungle, which is ours I ride the back of Thunder-cloud, my friend Around and through the thickets thick banyan trees & palm fruit fallen leaves Down muddy earthen paths until everything is green and shadows until inside its heart, the rain forest trees of this jungle are city buildings - tall and choir of fauna high and low do not fear to sing beneath our cathedral's shade In this kingdom of flora and ruby rich dirt belongs to thunder-cloud and dirt-poor me A Mowgli on his elephant, hollars ahead to any that hear "We are free!" Here, far from the whips' lashing, guns, away from the loud business of murderous money They who say that I am nothing in their eyes who abacus my worth with looks with upraising lust of wolves but I a free man, a simpleton for beloved (Earth) I am dark skinned Krishna on my steed of thunder-clouds A native son of brown & green wilderness caterwauling to the beyonds unknown Within our jungle, brother thunder, my elephant of deep clouds gray we are Mammoth and as wild as wide as open as free... with every step forward on this living journey we will take a peaceful kind of smile will only be what is written upon each lovely lovely face *(Within our jungles...we live simply without the Man's hate not today will I hunger, nor will I thirst fed on real wonder, drank clouds of Himalayan rain without a rupee to my name... on the back of thunder my gentle Ganesh - I have no one to blame.)*

39

Baffled this was a question you’d have to ask, I sat tremulous. I’m insular; I’d be enamored with even the most amorphous love, but I’m not inept, and won’t preclude that answering the question is salient. And although I’m not taciturn, I’m rarely extemporaneous, so please excuse my need for verbose prose in answering said question. You’re attractive. Your strong jaw, small chin and cheekbones were sculpted to make your own eyes glow and an artist’s eyes expostulate dreaming of anything else. Don’t dismiss this as delirium, but rather relish this recondite fact—my first crush came in the fifth grade. It was on a diminutive, outspoken girl, and I was enormous and timid, which developed into a village girl vs. Mowgli, me Tarzan you Jane, King-Kong-Ann Darrow complex. And although I believe with zealous fervor in your strength, your size still incites the young jungle boy inside me. And I hope I can say, without being terse, I’m afflicted with a mysterious affinity for red-hair. Although I could dwell in the obvious all day, I’ll redirect from the blasé. Abandon beats within us both like hearts to the same pulse, we don’t coax smiles, we let them slip, we aspire to happiness like falling of a log. I have to pry open time’s lockbox and plunder the night just to relegate the dawn. Bliss becomes a tangible ****** making even the most existentially exasperated docile. Knowledge that every other thought is dominated by one another without it attenuating the magic. Knowing that if all I have to say is it’s raining outside, you want to hear it. Twenty-one years of my life I thought I’d have to hunt love with a knife but you showed me roaming where you like to wander can wake the irreverent gods. It’s your superlative honesty that’s only for me; that virile smile in your eyes that bid doubt vacate my mind Knowing that if I went catatonic, one reproving look from you would cause my heart to break and force my hands to put the pieces back before I stopped breathing. If I could, I’d dawn you like a blanket before every dinner, dusk and dream. And most importantly, we both like crowns.

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Jun 10, 2011

Jun 10, 2011 at 8:17 AM UTC

matthew-cannizzaro

What is it about me, besides my vocabulary?

Baffled this was a question you’d have to ask, I sat tremulous. I’m insular; I’d be enamored with even the most amorphous love, but I’m not inept, and won’t preclude that answering the question is salient. And although I’m not taciturn, I’m rarely extemporaneous, so please excuse my need for verbose prose in answering said question. You’re attractive. Your strong jaw, small chin and cheekbones were sculpted to make your own eyes glow and an artist’s eyes expostulate dreaming of anything else. Don’t dismiss this as delirium, but rather relish this recondite fact—my first crush came in the fifth grade. It was on a diminutive, outspoken girl, and I was enormous and timid, which developed into a village girl vs. Mowgli, me Tarzan you Jane, King-Kong-Ann Darrow complex. And although I believe with zealous fervor in your strength, your size still incites the young jungle boy inside me. And I hope I can say, without being terse, I’m afflicted with a mysterious affinity for red-hair. Although I could dwell in the obvious all day, I’ll redirect from the blasé. Abandon beats within us both like hearts to the same pulse, we don’t coax smiles, we let them slip, we aspire to happiness like falling of a log. I have to pry open time’s lockbox and plunder the night just to relegate the dawn. Bliss becomes a tangible ****** making even the most existentially exasperated docile. Knowledge that every other thought is dominated by one another without it attenuating the magic. Knowing that if all I have to say is it’s raining outside, you want to hear it. Twenty-one years of my life I thought I’d have to hunt love with a knife but you showed me roaming where you like to wander can wake the irreverent gods. It’s your superlative honesty that’s only for me; that virile smile in your eyes that bid doubt vacate my mind Knowing that if I went catatonic, one reproving look from you would cause my heart to break and force my hands to put the pieces back before I stopped breathing. If I could, I’d dawn you like a blanket before every dinner, dusk and dream. And most importantly, we both like crowns.

22

Lincoln green robin hoodwinking the greedy rich Feeding the poor robin red breast flaunting credentials robbing the lady marion the little birds of their flimsy filmy honor Little boy little man-child john little mowgli conquering the jungle conquering the tiger riding imperious the stark grey brown elephant And backscratching bear sleeping in the greensward dancing with milady tucking into supper of fast arrowed stag Hung out and dried between devil trees and huts afire Across the brittle yellow beach into the deep blue sea

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Jun 5, 2016

Jun 5, 2016 at 9:05 AM UTC

mike-adam

Sher khan wood

Lincoln green robin hoodwinking the greedy rich Feeding the poor robin red breast flaunting credentials robbing the lady marion the little birds of their flimsy filmy honor Little boy little man-child john little mowgli conquering the jungle conquering the tiger riding imperious the stark grey brown elephant And backscratching bear sleeping in the greensward dancing with milady tucking into supper of fast arrowed stag Hung out and dried between devil trees and huts afire Across the brittle yellow beach into the deep blue sea

29

boys all of them loved you for life life - boys are not loud about with all zeros and perfect ones you will only code a program everything in between blind to your blue eyes love in the essence of fire boys will jump in to save you - or them words the truth forever remain in their eyes yours are the prettiest Saskia! .................. mh my boy Mowgli ' till we meet again -

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Jun 21, 2022

Jun 21, 2022 at 7:59 AM UTC

shanika

Boy Mowgli

boys all of them loved you for life life - boys are not loud about with all zeros and perfect ones you will only code a program everything in between blind to your blue eyes love in the essence of fire boys will jump in to save you - or them words the truth forever remain in their eyes yours are the prettiest Saskia! .................. mh my boy Mowgli ' till we meet again -

28

Late afternoon, the darkness is about to steal the light We are about to head back down the mountains of Mindoro A fire and smokes all over the trees, a "Kaingin" we encounter a family of three camouflaging the forest Looks like "Mangangahoy" making charcoal for a living A heart-crushing-afternoon scenario There is a man, who looks like the father An old woman seems to be the grandmother with a little kid, small and as cute as a button We barely see them as they're covered with dark smokes from woodfire Our truck stopped, offering them a ride The father loaded the sacks of wood The little boy trying to lift it with his bare little hands so small but he seems can carried heavy loads It's almost dark we sat at the back of the truck cargo bracing ourselves praying not to fall on a bumpy mountain road This little boy is beside me Indifferent I look at his adorable-plumpy-little face covered with dirt Eyes glistening with innocence A little jungle boy An angel of the forest he reminds me of Mowgli This bambino inhaling wood smokes daily working at a young age is a definition of a heartbreak something made me tear up inside it comes to a point where you don't know what to feel at the moment Reality is hurtful and the hardest part is handling your emotions This kid deserves better every kid in the world deserves better Circa 2019

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Jun 6, 2021

Jun 6, 2021 at 2:59 PM UTC

lougene13

Mowgli.

Late afternoon, the darkness is about to steal the light We are about to head back down the mountains of Mindoro A fire and smokes all over the trees, a "Kaingin" we encounter a family of three camouflaging the forest Looks like "Mangangahoy" making charcoal for a living A heart-crushing-afternoon scenario There is a man, who looks like the father An old woman seems to be the grandmother with a little kid, small and as cute as a button We barely see them as they're covered with dark smokes from woodfire Our truck stopped, offering them a ride The father loaded the sacks of wood The little boy trying to lift it with his bare little hands so small but he seems can carried heavy loads It's almost dark we sat at the back of the truck cargo bracing ourselves praying not to fall on a bumpy mountain road This little boy is beside me Indifferent I look at his adorable-plumpy-little face covered with dirt Eyes glistening with innocence A little jungle boy An angel of the forest he reminds me of Mowgli This bambino inhaling wood smokes daily working at a young age is a definition of a heartbreak something made me tear up inside it comes to a point where you don't know what to feel at the moment Reality is hurtful and the hardest part is handling your emotions This kid deserves better every kid in the world deserves better Circa 2019

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