"occurence" poems
Agar zindagi kay samundar may
Kabhi toofan na atay
Kya hum kabhi zindagi ki kashti koi chalana seekh patay
(Urdu and Hindi.)
English translation
If there were no occurence of storms in the sea of life
Would we ever learn to steer the boat of life?
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 8:18 AM UTC
The Time For Humanity To Mature Has Not & Would Never Come. Read on - be intrigued.
Now that I believe for a long time after I attained the age of 22 years on 23rd December, 2012.
Many of the spiritual literature pieces are just contradictory to themselves, why would HE let the occurence of any trouble then and hold only the other end of a jittery life helping us cross to the other end safe & fine?
If you would excuse this question saying "HE can never be questioned and HE alone is the destructor & the creator," then it's just a desperate excuse which you hold to considering theism as flawless & unquestionable, me & any similar people as psychos, or perhaps losers.
I don't discourage theism nor do I encourage anybody to share similar thoughts as mine, but I myself don't encourage idling over the concept of the special spiritual unseen power. I agree that some phenomena like love, kindness, greed, lust & hatred can't ever just be scientifically explained in total completeness by just citing some natural laws of nature or physics. But then again why do we often indispensably need that imaginary hand above our heads for protection or more than often have to spend money in praise of the imaginary hand above our heads?
Any mention about theists' escapist nature would be countered by their many statements of the following kind:
o Us theists, we don't escape problems, we just gather courage when we have identified a problem in our lives by remembering the imaginary hand above our heads sheltering us from all troubles and then tackle the problem with enough strength.
o Theism does neither lack anything divinity nor does it lack even anything evil, both of them are manmade concepts, the world was created as a perfect place for the existence of human race.
o Instead of just leaving us all alone in this troublesome world, He has sent few of His men and we can blindly follow them to resolve our own specific troubles with solutions ideated around age-old books written by great men and we don't need anybody to question our faith wherever it is.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC
i wish
i could skim your lips
with a kiss
that entices life
to rise in slight resistance
against death's intenseness
when it tries to reunite
the ties that bind our split hips
but never could we ever
endeavor in our pleasures
because together we would sever
the heaven that we live in
& end the friendships we mended
but its worth it
to be cursed with
that verbal disturbance
& hurt when this turns in
to a perfect occurence
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 5:38 PM UTC
Watching the tick of clock
seconds turn minutes and mock
thoughts storm in a dimensions lock
yet thou try its occurence to block
awaiting the dawn the clock hand tick
star lights still with longer blink
or doth the eye hath a longer wink
soul in time in thoughts sink
Unknown path in life by destinys hand
in the dark in unknown sleepless land
would answers be found in hourglass sand
sleepless nights in insanitys land
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 1:39 PM UTC
three day rain, odd to
see the flooded plains
in place of prairie choked
and lit; brightening night.
chilled wind stirs humid
days, sun foresought.
forced to sleep a
few days more. and:
'i never see the
devil, but i do
see demons.'
stated as people walk the
spring streets covered to
cease rain from drenching.
refusing natural occurence.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 8:10 AM UTC
May 13, 2016
1:00 a.m.
"Grasping for straws, again!" It's amazing to me, that when we start aproaching my age, how we start reflecting on events that, at the time of their occurence, were not important. Case in point:
Lubbock, Texas, September, 1953, if memory serves. During that time local television stations, at noon, always had a 15 minute newscast, followed by another 15 minutes of "public service programing, featuring upcoming events in the surrounding communities. This time of year, it was always the "South Plains Fair."
My brother, Bill, and I belonged to a volunteer service group that was scheduled to appear on such a program aptly titled "Hospitality Time." Also scheduled was a country western band that was to perform at the fair. I can't recall the name other than they were associated with a circuit called "The Louisiana Hayride", similar to the "Grand 'ol Opry", both very popular on the radio, you do remember 'radio', don't you?"
Prior to the telecast, we got into a conversation with one of the musicians, who 'plunked' on his guitar while waiting for their call.He turned out to be the lead singer. Not being a country music fan, I didn't pay much attention to them, after all, it was "just for the Fair." After they finished and were leaving, he turned to my brother and me, and said, "nice to meet you." It wasn't until a couple of years later, when I realized that we had met, and talked with, Elvis Presley.
copyright: richard riddle: 05-13-2016
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 2:48 AM UTC
"Let us rebuild, so that,
we may be no
longer a reproach",… it is just
business/ Nehemiah spake
put this on your business card
directly, in spirit, to David
Barton, inspirational director,
for many a proud warrior for truth.
Jesus lives, we rise, we agree, in me.
Where lay the Kingdom of God, back then,
when he is recorded as having said,
I will, my will being done, abide
side any who hear the knock,
as an innocent, or a lying, cheating scoundrel,
that's the good news, war has never worked,
peacemaking all ways works, one on one.
Honed most point, tip to tip... touch
spirit face to spirit face
messenger to message, dare we say
in the presence of at least as many as
have testified to seeing grave dwellers walking,
most certainly there was darkness, and that curtain,
between the holiest of holies, and every day sanctity,
ripped… rippity re-occurence right down the middle,
opening all reality
to the Wizard
of Oz's most esoteric
special effect
on the ensuing Easter audiences, seeing
it, over and over, until the metaphor, the riddle becomes
dabar, a very humble word translated many ways, see::
Pens with motors are more powerful than swords,
of any sort… logos significant cannot loose dabar yah, we
in this form minding manners men agree to abide beneath,
but
but
but
on good advice,
from bar mitzvahed friends, dead and living,
the use of labor, during interesting times, as mobs
to make unified mind form encase believers in
situations indisputably dangerous, used right
by godfearing law enforcement officers, right
used by a leader exactly, to the hairs on his head,
like the guy on television who crashed all those casinos.
Jun 14, 2025
Jun 14, 2025 at 2:56 PM UTC
O mother dear of this my life
you were more to me like a wife
as we lived together for a while
after dad had died and in style.
We went just about everywhere together
though it depended much on the weather.
And the fact that I was more reclusive
meant that it was hard to be inclusive.
Ours was a supremely chaste interdependence
which worked well to the point of transcendance.
Although I was the son and you were the mother
I would often give advice like a husband and father.
You had various problems with your health
but this did not undermine spiritual wealth.
There were certain things that you would more or less ignore
due to a stubborn habitual independence that I would implore.
I tried to enhance your life and give you much more
rather than take anything away out of nature’s store.
And when that was stiffled with outside interference
the end result being one of a regretful ill occurence.
You lived to the ripe old age of eighty eight
and in all you did you were never really late.
You would try to help one and all in your own way
and people would look up to you and kind words say.
A very resourceful lady and one with a certain skill
you tried your hand at many things and the time fill.
I would often marvel as to how you got everything done
with a single minded purposefulness you ignored none.
Now gone is the lady of the house
who played the part of a spouse
and all that we used or shared together
is now idle at the mercy of the weather.
But her love still guides me in my heart
and urges me on daily to play the part
in doing the things that she would like me to do
even though she’s gone by doing to remain true.
_______________________________________
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 12:09 AM UTC
Life's an undefined sequence,
Mixed series of complex situations,
Permutations of irregular occurence,
Combinations of tramsmuting mutations.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 5:07 AM UTC
Have you seen the tremble of the gust?
that blows the land without any mercy,
Putting the damage on the lives of lonely people,
Uncontrolled acts that made the wind whistle.
Have you seen the earth shatter,
Mad rumbled and roared like a monster beast,
shivering with extreme grin and violence,
Lands torned apart caring on no one's presence.
Have you seen the water flowing from heaven,
on heavy volumes and unexpected occurence,
killing the lives of the stabled occupations
stumbled upon floods of the dying nation
Have you seen the giant waves of the coast?
or the fatal mud flows from volcanoes,
Can we know the point or we are so blind not to fear
that we are paying our tolls and the apocalypse is getting near.
Mar 13, 2011
Mar 13, 2011 at 6:30 PM UTC
it's no small wonder, watching birds learn to fly.
there's a small nest on the ledge outside my dorm window, and the chirping of the mothers wakes me up on the earliest of days. i'd be lying if i said i was overjoyed at the occurence, especially on the days when i have early class.
but then came the babies.
like me, they were cold and afraid in a completely new environment.
like me, they were scared to death of every person walking by.
like me, they had no clue how to fly.
but like me, they learned.
i live somewhere else now, and still get woken up by the birds. i can't help but wonder sometimes if they're the babies that learned to fly on the ledge outside my room around the same time that i did, stroke by wobbly stroke through the turbulent air. it's amazing how much they've grown. i'm so proud of them.
likewise, i'm proud of myself. i made it through the first year of college-bad grades, no friends, drama, and adjusting to being by myself a lot was a really hard transition. once i left the nest, that was it. and it was terrifying. but i've learned to fly since those days, and despite a badly paying job, no friends in the area, and being down on myself, i'm still hovering above the ground. that's no small accomplishment.
it's no small wonder, watching birds learn how to fly.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 11:37 PM UTC
I stood there amongst the dead stalks,
my deadened and darkened mind
devoid of even the least comprehensible thought.
I was looking neither forward nor behind.
It was at the cyclical death of this dreary world,
an annual and expected occurence,
heralded by dark clouds across the sky curled.
The sky itself will be gray from this point hence.
By chance I looked up above
and saw a single white particle,
spinning and twirling as if shoved.
My breath suddenly grew shallow.
I knew its fate,
that crystalline little flake.
He was to fall to its warm end in my place,
melted without want or the slightest hate.
It's life was much shorter than mine,
much less at stake.
Nothing left behind,
no family or place.
We were similar we two,
that is to say.
We each quickly grew,
and we share the same ultimate fate.
When the sour deed was done,
and I'd destroyed the small friend,
I'd turned and swiftly gone.
With the knowledge that I'd tread that field again.
And so it came to pass that I was walking that field,
it was just a short time later.
My tattered wits had greatly healed,
and I felt infinitely safer.
My thoughts were here above me now,
no longer embattled or fraught.
I could see perfectly how
I had accepted what my dear friend had sought.
The beautiful little flake had fallen,
it had tumbled so that it may seek the end.
No matter how short its life may have been,
I was happy for my lost friend.
For that is really it,
that is the ultimate end.
There is nothing more after you sit,
after every last bit of energy is spent.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 5:55 PM UTC
orange is that
violet is this
sometimes I can't fathom
why I'd want your kiss
perhaps it is the way your hair falls
or maybe the way you say my name
but in all honesty I do not understand
I think it to be all so very lame
I think about your lips
I smile at the thought of such occurence
and just as suddenly
I close my eyes and wince
Please don't be in love with me
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 4:38 AM UTC
I.
On the surface easily gliding,
are my hands. I keep on the table
an ajar carton of cigarettes. Then slowly
becoming in my pocket, taking form of a hand,
a crumpled cinema ticket when straightened,
ironed by plainsight, walks with lines, the end credits roll lasciviously like an estranged lover
whose face I can almost touch.
When let go of closure, air thins and I move
secretly with fluency. This is how objects
escape my grip.
II.
In front of the eatery, a transit.
I had a dream once in a depthless sleep,
a figure in stilts studded with guilt.
The face next to me, disquieting the music
of currencies, naked in sound as the truth shaved
like a beast. The nearby tarmac resounds with
another throng of absence. As a substitute
for beings shackled to duty,
the oncoming woman assumes theirs,
borrows their faces of dreariness and ***** a thousand times like white sheets harassed by
the wind through opened windows.
III.
Define space as a venue for collision.
Say when a red-haired woman straddling
a duffel bag and myself confused as a peripatetic.
She ascribes her presence to my footing
and from where she left off, I take form
of her expired movement.
Found strangeness is that space
is what happens when remembered. But hold no
bearing and rear contrivance,
trying to be bold by definition -- space solicits
the in-betweenness and then transmutes
an occurence,
say the volatile shape of a hand when
clutching and releasing, the fugitive manner of
feet when avoiding puddles, the unsolicited
reticence of a troubling question.
IV.
A man carries a take away and is now
amongst the populace, waiting under a shed,
housing a familiar language. Home.
But first, trivialized. Haggles with the cab driver,
trying to transact a being angled towards home.
They agree to a fault, money's perfume clinches the fingers and is given to a calloused hand.
Air once stale, is now succulent with the
resonating memory of a child's excited laughter,
and is now presumably waiting behind a gated
home. Like the palm of the hand, the number
of times the vehicle trundles within
the nearby avenue is the force it enkindles
with rest. He is home,
unloosens his clothing. Like a fine specimen
freed from a vitrine.
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 6:05 AM UTC
i'm facing my laptop right now
thinking how much i can put on this empty notepad note
i wanna see if i can fill it up to the point where the document'll be needing a scroll bar
i'm facing my laptop right now because i can't face myself
i can't face the fact that it has come to a certain point where lying to myself has reached a certain extreme
i can't face the fact that it might not just be liking you anymore
scary isn't it
but there must be some explain for all of this
how else can i explain the fact that i sometimes wish i got to see you more often
how else can i explain that i wish whenever i see you, i actually get the chance to hear you say "hello" first
or, maybe those times when i lay in my bed wondering what it'd be like if you were next to me
would my arms circle around you twice, are you a heavy sleeper, do you shuffle in your position more than once
all those stupid questions
oh, maybe you'd joke about how sleep is a rare occurence given your major... same goes for me i guess
it probably isn't just liking you anymore when i say that i want to be the one who makes you happy
i wanna see you smile and i wanna have that certain pride and, for joke's sake, have the bragging rights to have caused that smile
you're probably aware that you're beautiful
you say you're beautiful but along with that beauty you are equipped with a certain strength
and i appreciate that
i appreciate how you can stand alone, how you build yourself up to face the world the way you want to
it's probably rude of me, and not just liking you, when i ask if it would be okay if i joined you
i wouldn't mind telling you you're beautiful each day
i wouldn't mind telling the truth every single time
sometimes i see you and the words of how beautiful you are slip my breath without me knowing
it's probably rude of me to deny myself of these feelings
it's probably not just liking you when it comes to these feelings
it's probably enough that i have nothing but a notepad file to express these feelings
it's probably time that i faced myself rather than my laptop about these feelings
it's probably because i'm falling for you
and that sounds quite right
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 8:01 AM UTC
often, as a people
we think. we function.
it is grand, is it not?
often, as a person.
before, i
would do the same.
until now. when thinking to
hard is not only possible, but painfully real.
where functioning, is a "almost there; better luck next time"
occurence.
ah, i have come far
in this new reality i have fallen through.
but listen as i must now do
where do you hide--
escape
and sleep.
when you no longer
can.
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 8:31 PM UTC
Our world is in trouble, not just rising prices
Famine, drought, and Co2 polluted skies
Look close and quickly jump off the tracks
Our population has spread like wildfire
Quite frightening, with no solution in sight
How can we stop this crazy train tonight?
7.4 Billion and counting soon to be 9.8 B
As every celebrity is blessed with Twins
A phenomenonal occurence? a coincidence?
Oops double pleasure, Double mint gum?
Anyway we have questions with no answers
How is mother earth going to care for us?
Supply us with water, food and clothing?
Can we vacuum the Co2, leaving our sky clean?
Will tomorrow be a nightmare or a Dream?
Oh poets, our future awaits to be seen..
Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 1:09 AM UTC
Simon says it's a sign.
So I ran,
ran fast and far
with the idea that
each occurence and encounter,
every moment-
even those dwarfed by
the giant of our memory-
will one day add up.
And Simon says he knows-
knows why and when and
what and how.
So I believe him
and in me grows a
soul that knows that one day
it will know.
Simon says,
just as he always
has and will-
so with a turned ear
and wide eyes,
I listen.
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 11:30 AM UTC
I like the way you look at 5:16 in the morning
The alarm clock never ceases to ring
Your pitch blacks and royal blues make their way into my room
To drag me out of the dreams I had in loops
I like the way you look when you rise
When your atmosphere's all confused but still bright
When you shine with confidence
As you've let go of the insecurities with each occurence
When the rays of red, mixes with the blues
When the purple birthed seems hesitant and the pink joins in too
That's when you inspire me the most
When you show yourself through your shambles
I like the way you leave
The way your colours subtilely sneak
The way you are excited to go back
To maybe disappoint the insomniacs and help the most deprived
I like the way everything settles
Like the calm on the ocean's shore
As people find refuge, as people go home
I wait for your return,
While, through my head, the memories of you roam
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 9:05 PM UTC
January & June
were having fun
hanging out together
not just for
sweet alliteration's sake
but because
- they could.
And they had always
secretly fancied each other.
Time had taken
a holiday.
Not an every day
occurence.
So they took
advantage of
this once
in a blue moon
- happening.
Monday & Sunday
were in bed together
( don't ask me what
they were doing ).
A century & a second
were gazing into
each other's eyes
amazed to see themselves
reflected there.
The hands of the clock
were spooning.
An hour was courting
( such an old fashioned word )
a beautiful young ahhhhh
moment.
Time itself
was sulking
because the lovers
weren't paying him
any mind
what so
ever.
They seemed to live
in the "...now, now, very now"
( as Mr. Shakespeare puts it )
scattering their smiles
here and everywhere
see them blossoming
into squeals and laughter.
A new millennium
had just turned up &
was at once
( "Wot de...!")
press ganged
into one of their forever
kisses.
**** that Janice Windle & Donall Dempsey!"
Time throwing a hissy fit!
**** that Janice Windle & Donall Dempsey!"
**** 'em!"
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 2:12 PM UTC
'DAMN THAT JANICE WINDLE & DONALL DEMPSEY
. . **** 'EM!"
January & June
were having fun
hanging out together
not just for
sweet alliteration's sake
but because
- they could.
And they had always
secretly fancied each other.
Time had taken
a holiday.
Not an every day
occurence.
So they took
advantage of
this once
in a blue moon
- happening.
Monday & Sunday
were in bed together
( don't ask me what
they were doing ).
A century & a second
were gazing into
each other's eyes
amazed to see themselves
reflected there.
The hands of the clock
were spooning.
An hour was courting
( such an old fashioned word )
a beautiful young ahhhhh
moment.
Time itself
was sulking
because the lovers
weren't paying him
any mind
what so
ever.
They seemed to live
in the "...now, now, very now"
( as Mr. Shakespeare puts it )
scattering their smiles
here and everywhere
see them blossoming
into squeals and laughter.
A new millennium
had just turned up &
was at once
( "Wot de...!")
press ganged
into one of their forever
kisses.
**** that Janice Windle & Donall Dempsey!"
Time throwing a hissy fit!
**** that Janice Windle & Donall Dempsey!"
**** 'em!"
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017 at 5:01 PM UTC
when the rare occurence
of shooting stars gliding along the clouds
and the dark blue-black of the night,
my only wish is for that star
to bring my heart closer to yours
in hopes that
i could return the happiness
that you have given me.
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 8:35 AM UTC
I could find you,
maybe,
behind these clouds of grey.
For your eyes hold the
storm
of tomorrow
and I have never seen such an
occurence.
And your mind harbors the
lighting truth of
reality.
Or perhaps I could find you
in your forest of
desire.
For you can never deny the
want
seeping from your pores.
I could find you,
and that is the truth,
but no,
Instead of what should be,
heartbeats race, intertwined souls,
you and I,
you found me.
~
I am simply a step closer,
and,
surrounding what I have become is
you.
I have gotten lost within your
clouds of grey
and
deeply guarded forest
and
you found me.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 1:25 PM UTC
Years as a loner
Under the big changing Sky
work and commitment
Family shared, misbelief a far cry
Yet down in his heart
A burning light
Hidden, secretly shielded
Condescending bullies outside
Illumination never extinguished
Shined at an occurence
Where clashes opened windows
Into a new bright world
He had to find a deed personal
To give it all he had
Persona physic in real time
No apprehensions met
Taking the reign of his gatekeepers' soul
Chose desires to be freed
To find freedoms mole
His mind at ease
A song danced his whistle
This lad with a brithel
(c)near_lane7
Nov 30, 2020
Nov 30, 2020 at 9:10 AM UTC
This type of miracle
Is a rare occurrence
This type of love
Is a once in a lifetime moment
This type of feeling
Is a momentous experience
This type of miracle
Is a rare occurrence
Oct 30, 2020
Oct 30, 2020 at 11:27 AM UTC