"onwards" poems
*be ever gentle to thy words
treat them, your tools, well,
cleansing and protecting,
wrapping them in cloths of chamois and moleskin
that they may be well conditioned and
pour forth with a temperament clear and viscous,
reflecting their high honors and a noble lineage,
they are well-intentioned to exist far longer
than your meager temporal life,
upon this ever hasty, ever perpetual, orbit
give them all respect, their fair due,
they are treasure immeasurable,
for which you have been granted guardianship,
custody received from others to be gifted onwards,
yours, but for the duration
so oft we trifle words,
expel them from the country of our body,
without passport and earnestness,
as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler,
day tourists, to be treated as leavings,
refuse for daily discardation,
barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance,
but leaving not, a mark of distinction
more truffle than trifle,
find them in the dark forest of your life,
use them sparingly, just for soaring,
take them from the roots of your trees,
shave them with a paring knife,
counts them in bites and measure them in grams,
even in grains,
for words are the seasoning of our lives,
agent provacateurs that can modify the moment,
bringing out to the fore
the flavor of the underlying
speak them slow and distinct,
for they arrive slow to you,
a trickling of refugees for your sheltering,
harbor them as full companions,
protected by natural law,
provision them well,
prepared and ever ready for a quick departure,
moor them at the embarcadero,
for the next restless leg of endlessness,
which they themselves will inform you
will last longer than eternity,
long after there are no humans to speak them*
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
Her serene voice,
And her beautiful smile,
Her torquise eyes,
Shining so bright,
Under the moonlight we stand,
Hand in hand,
I kneel down on my knee,
Asking her will you marry me,
She accepts my proposal,
And honestly from that day onwards,
I sleep in peace.
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
Endless stains of blood
On white t-shirts
On nights that scatter blue trees over black earth
Alight by shooting stars
The mother tells her child
Unwilling to unlock the truth
The truth those stars
Don't grant your wishes
They grab them
With scarred scratching hands.
Alight,
The damp stitches in the soil
Cemetery symmetrical to hospital
Those shooting stars circling
Like a vulture
Speeds towards dead carcasses
Still, the murdering star will not cease
To break bones
That have already broken
To take lives
That have already been taken
To burn
What is already charred
Today
smells like burnt muddied skin
feels like gnawing on your own fingers for feast
sounds like tired, howling machines
spurring and sputtering, never-ending their onwards trek
Swallowing distances and with it, nameless faces
countless places
Today the earthquakes of death
Don't make the land shake anymore
For it has learned to cope
With the desolate cemeteries filled with mute bones
Today burns like gasoline
Looks like intestines decorating destroyed doorways
Today it rains curdled crimson
Tell me shooting star
If the child liked jam on his toast
Did he snore?
Did he like math? Or english?
Shooting star doesn't know and neither the bombs.
As bodies fall from trees
like rotten plums.
The world was born in blood
And has not ceased to suckle its wounds
Endless blood thirst, Endless war
But not endless skin to bleed.
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 2:41 AM UTC
The most important things in life are often those we have to choose from at critical times. They very often represent and determine the course our life will take and to what extent we have in controlling or shaping it. With whatever choice we make, opportunities arise and by making the most of these we realise the relative benefits to be gained or otherwise. Through our committment and willingness to achieve a goal, irrespective of what obstacles there may be or we come across, we move forward and progress is made in our endeavour. If the goal is something we have set our mind and heart on whatever setbacks or obstacles are encountered should then be taken to be the hurdles to overcome.
By repeated experience we learn the necessary disciplines with which to train or involve our mind and body to reach our goal. When we recognise and forego or sacrifice certain habits that are not conducive to our overall progress we release more energy by which to accomplish our end. By sustained right effort we put in motion the train of events that will bring about the right results, but we should not be too attached to the fruits thereof. Too much attachment is a cause of blindness, disappointment and suffering. However with the right mental attitudes including positive thinking and actions we should learn from and leave behind past failures by always striving onwards to our desired objective or set goal.
The best way to achieve this end is to include in some way the benefit and good of all those concerned whether they be friend or otherwise which will not be easy but will exhibit a spirit of high ethical standards and character and contribute to endearing oneself to others.
_______________________________________________________________
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 4:28 PM UTC
The trouble with Hello Poetry
Is that I fall in love daily
Held under so many captivating spells
moulded and crafted by all walks of life
I find myself longing for all of you
the broken, the fallen, the bruised
the saints, the sinners
the righteous, the dispossessed
the holy, the unholy
all meet here
to speak of life
as they feel it
as only we know it.
Onwards, upwards
Downward spirals
kindness, cruelty
crashing through boundaries
bounding across oceans
carried on wistful sighs and broken dreams
The trouble with Hello Poetry
Is that it breaks my heart
Then brings me back to love again
All within an hour.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 4:30 AM UTC
XXVI. TO DIONYSUS (13 lines)
(ll. 1-9) I begin to sing of ivy-crowned Dionysus, the loud-
crying god, splendid son of Zeus and glorious Semele. The rich-
haired Nymphs received him in their bosoms from the lord his
father and fostered and nurtured him carefully in the dells of
Nysa, where by the will of his father he grew up in a sweet-
smelling cave, being reckoned among the immortals. But when the
goddesses had brought him up, a god oft hymned, then began he to
wander continually through the woody coombes, thickly wreathed
with ivy and laurel. And the Nymphs followed in his train with
him for their leader; and the boundless forest was filled with
their outcry.
(ll. 10-13) And so hail to you, Dionysus, god of abundant
clusters! Grant that we may come again rejoicing to this season,
and from that season onwards for many a year.
7.8k
Once you participate in a race, if not anything else, you know one thing for sure.
Your own calibre.
It's then you realize and understand you need to make an active participation in every race from here onwards.
Your first experience teaches you a lot, since what follows later is an active participation from your side.
Over a period of time everything of which you are part starts changing
Now it's time to look for a better future
Always keep in mind that a secured future cannot be achieved if efforts are not been made
An uncertain future not only remains uncertain, but also keeps the present on hold.
What is thought upon is not the aim, but also the efforts that need to be made.
Always keep in mind take one step at a time while climbing the ladder, then it does not matter how long the ladder is.
The only thing that matters and also will make a difference is when you fall off the ladder.
At that point in time you will have to decide for yourself whether you want to climb again.
It’s not a mistake or an error, something which is done intentionally when you fall off the ladder, since mistakes happen.
Better learn from those mistakes and keep going
A moment in time will come when you will realize and understand how everything started
That will be the great moment in time, since that moment will be important
Till then keep going.
It’s success that everyone wants, but there is a price for everything, which you pay, including the success that you want.
Success comes at a price.
Better understand the outside world carefully and then act according to your own experience.
Once a step it taken, there is no point in looking back
Agreed it’s now or never, but only for those who know what they have been through in the past.
Once decided upon something, stick to the same
Understand and realize one thing for sure, time and tide waits for no one
Always be truthful and honest to yourself, even when you are making all the efforts.
Efforts never go wasted when the right direction is sought.
Compromise and negotiation is part of the game
What’s important to remember is mending your ways for short terms gains, something which remains unacceptable.
Act wisely, but be sure that there is no shortcut to success.
So it’s the passion and desire in you, inside you
The willingness to take the risk and go out for something of which you are absolutely sure.
The never give up attitude in life will make everything clear in mind
Once decided and everything is set and settled in mind, then from that point onwards proceed towards your aim.
Finally all that matters is success.
So don’t waste a single moment in time of your life and act according to what you have planned.
Definitely a moment in time will come when you will gain success and then the world will be at your feet.
Till that point in time comes keep going.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 7:27 AM UTC
Loudly they said, 'from
now onwards we will ignore.'__
But I see prying eyes
behind window and door.__
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 9:37 PM UTC
As a child, I was blessed
Light skin, in a white world
I had white friends, white teachers
I had white pastors, white family
That was everything that I knew to be
I had some black friends, a black teacher
I had a black pastor, black family
I saw color, I saw the differences
I saw white friends hating my black friends
I saw white teachers demean black students
I saw white christians leave the black pastor
I saw family both white and black love me just the same.
Hate is taught.
But birds of a feather
Flock together
And I flew with any breeze
That would have me.
With wiser eyes
With years behind me,
I've flown with the gentle stream
A birds eye view of an unchanging world
So I've decided to test the current
To soar with broken wings
Famished dreams
Onwards to freedom
Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 2:41 PM UTC
Far away in ancient Jerusalem
Stood a garden, long, long ago
Home to giant oaks and figs
And plants and shrubs of every kind.
On every season, from time to time
Merrily they would burst into bloom
Filling the air with fragrance sweet
And fuelling the hearts with joy and cheer.
Amid the riot of flashing shades
Where Poppies and Pansies held their heads
In a corner, there a Lily stood,
Sans scent and sans grandeur.
A poor loner never once noticed
Nor skilled to steal the show,
Those, brilliant in shade and shape
With contempt openly quipped
‘It’s such a shame
She grows among us
With such pallid shade
And nothing to rave’,
‘Lilies are such lazy lot
Giving only seasonal blooms’
Rang aloud their haughty comments
Rashly blurted out and blunt
The poor Lily wilted in shame
Wishing she had never been born.
Late that evening, through the garden
Into the newly dug up grave
A band of people came with lights
Bearing someone cut and scathed.
With blood oozing, drop by drop
From wounds, left by piercing nails
The body, carefully wrapped in linen
Was the body of Jesus - Son of God
The one who bore the sins of the world
And courted the most accursed of deaths.
The body embalmed was laid inside
And sealed with a giant block of stone
Soldiers posted to guard the tomb
And every vigil so prudently kept.
Early by dawn, three days hence
While it was still very dark
From inside the tomb had come
Rumbling sounds and a blinding light.
Flowers en masse blinked their eyes
Beheld a man, gently walking out
The wounds still fresh on his palm
And the linen that swaddled, lying behind.
As they watched this queer sight
In awful amazement, they did see
A host of Lilies, white as snow
Far more beautiful than any of them
Bowing their heads in reverential glee
And singing Hosanna to the Lord of Life.
All the flora in silent shock
Sighted from whence the Lilies came
They sprang unforeseen in those spots
Where drops of blood from his body fell
Then onwards, without fail
April sees the grandeur and grace,
Of snowy lilies - those delicate blooms
Sprouting suddenly from the crust of the Earth
Joggling their heads in whiffing breeze,
And giving delight to all who behold.
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 1:00 PM UTC
*Story..
Stories
I have a story to tell
It's a tragic one as usual*
A day goes by. Silence reigns and birds cuckoo
While this happens..
Two people sit under a tree
Using it as a rendezvous
For usual meetings
They met...
Once...
In ten days
They enjoyed it
I helped another person
and he tried to help me
I did a better job of helping him
that's what I think..
Anyways, once they met
they enjoyed it
they would talk together
and climb a tree
Play with a dog, which was a
golden retriever
They are big!
It was a lot of fun
Often playing Videogames
like..
Mario kart..?
That was a day
and it happened on
an occasional basis
when both of them could spare some time
from their daily time consuming life
----------------------------------------------------------------
One day however
A bright sunny day
A sunday afternoon
filled with birds flying about
nearly the end of the school year
It was all going by wonderfully
We had met another time
because you called me
and told me to help you out
and just to relieve the stress
that the school year had put on us
We climbed a tree
with a rope on it
it was pretty tall
about 10 feet high
I remember talking about self harm..
..and ways to **** oneself
and I gave up climbing and jumped off
the rope
6 feet
straight down
on my back/ankles
It hurt like batshit crazy
but i told you I managed through it
then later
when talking to our friends
I let it slip
I told her about my failed attempt
I was really depressed after that
It actually FAILED!
Well, now more people knew about it
and these rumors spread fast
as you would know
I was still fine with school
just.. I became more depressed
My grades were fine
I was nearly at the end of the year
nearly there.
nearly
And then
I realized
that
Mockingbirds
are similar to humans
they don't talk much
at the time of crisis
but they remember
it, and pass it onwards
They don't lie.
Mockingbirds dont lie
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 8:13 PM UTC
Drift off
Slower than the tide
And these hazy buttercups
On this Sunday morning
Drift off
And let your fears
Spill into the current
That passes you gently along.
Melodies take me
And light guitar strings murmur
Giving flow to my stiff bones
As they sigh in the sunlight
Staring lovingly into the bluest sky
Bluer than the green water
That sings its own harmony.
Hear the birds chant
Sparks into the air
Hear the water hush
The wind that will never come today
And the chug chug chug
Of that faithful riverboat
Keeping me steadily onwards
On its warm wooden deck.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC
The nature of infinity is this: That everything has its
Own Vortex, and when once a traveller thro' Eternity
Has pass'd that Vortex, he perceives it roll back behind
His path, into a globe itself infolding like a sun,
Or like a moon, or like a universe of starry majesty,
While he keeps onwards in his wondrous journey on the earth,
Or like a human form, a friend with whom he liv'd benevolent.
As the eye of man views both the east & west encompassing
Its vortex, and the north & south with all their starry host,
Also the rising sun & setting moon he views surrounding
His corn-fields and his valleys of five hundred acres square,
Thus is the earth one infinite plane, and not as apparent
To the weak traveller confin'd beneath the moony shade.
Thus is the heaven a vortex pass'd already, and the earth
A vortex not yet pass'd by the traveller thro' Eternity.
from The Illuminated Prophetic Books Milton
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 4:28 PM UTC
I am the zombie of Tinkerbell
Her living corpse
Dress sparkles all faded
Tinkling like a broken bell
My fairy dust no longer brings children the gift of flight
But endows my prey with the curse of second life
That I may twice devour their
Squirming, wriggling,
Writhing, scriggiling
Flesh
Just the way I like it
With a wide dark grin across my face
Teeth stained with blood and broken into points
Eyes dim, dull, and hallowed
Skin sallow and torn by the fighters,
Who battle for their death
Combatting the loss of their dignity
I lure them in with stale illusions and sickly sweet snares
Torn wings are no match for swift feet, but I manage
Pushed onwards, pulled forwards by a need, urge
To devour, consume, and engorge myself
Again with tender meat
And imbibe upon the sharp lifeblood
Of faerie.
For I, am the zombie Tinkerbell, and I hunger.
It's dinner time...
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 9:08 PM UTC
***She sits in shadows
Displaced by life
Forgotten by self
Dejected by all those Crows that fly Northwards
A Sparrow hawk calls
She remembers him but utters nothing
that is desirable
He flies onwards
Never to look upon her
Dark princess
Of lower grounds
She holds fast and keeps council with demons
Demons who roam the corridors of her soul
Pulling the cloak over her nakedness
as the stage illuminates the way
An actress of sorts
Another west end show
A vagabond who plays her hero
Darkness falls from her
And all who are touched by her fateful hand
Will linger no more in sun drenched meadows
Too bright to see
Too good to believe
Her fearfulness becomes her
Her innocence laid bare upon a slab of false regret
Be he gone from her mind
She may be free
For what lingers a princess in darkness
Than a love betrayed
The darkened hour may find its way into any heart
The broken man
Can do as he tries
But stumbles when he beholds her stare.***
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
It is a tell of
two adored in historic past
“Their life was bumpy
No one allowed them to tie the knot!
They were lucky
Times permit them to get nearer!
In the fullness of time,
They are happy
Since
Their new life is starts up!
They are starry
As
crops in their field are growing up!
They are brawny
Seeing
Her haulage to a new hope!
Their hopes are turns to gusty
Draught spread out
Crops ruined up
and in the bolt from the blue
He breathes his last!
She is becoming leggy
Tears and torn encircled
People started to blame!
All of a sudden
A magic brings Mosey
A birds comes in and
tell ‘I am here now,
Going sing everyday for you
and our up bring!’"
Then onwards
People in the hills
label birds calls are
the songs of their dearest one !
Now, birds are becoming honey
to everyone!!
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 2:24 PM UTC
The devil's speech say they:
Rolling, clattering, frolicking, hungry.
Billows of charred skeletons embrace the air
Black soot pumped straight from the pyres of Hades
Congealing to clouds of evil intent wherever it roam.
That charred old shell so terse,
Black as sadness and dead as a hearse,
Darling to death as he brings on the rain:
The dry rolling thunder of the funeral train.
In the coughing desert
Not a thing dares roam
Neither wind nor creature
And neither stick nor stone.
But then the silence disturbed by a horrible shriek -
The railway screams in horror and the train itself speaks, saying
"Tell me, thou innocent,
Why feel you special and best?
For when all is done I take you
And return you to my nest;
Your world is bright and happy
Full of high spirits and song,
Though soon you too shall step aboard
And join my faceless throng."
Hot saliva on the heaving engines:
Weeping, groaning, ghostly, parched.
Rusted joints spewed onwards grinding resisting
Movement spat out like a violently beaded string of curses
Sloppily uttered as incantations of a malformed mouth!
From that charred old shell so terse,
Black as sadness and dead as a hearse,
Darling to death as he brings on the rain:
The dry rolling thunder of the funeral train.
That dark train cries out and all around
A mourning whimper rises like slumbering fog-
Bleak and yellow it obscures the land
Seeping out insidious in strange locales all:
The old lonely fisherman
Sleeping on his wharf,
The frustrated hawker's
Windblown barefaced booth,
Silent streets crying for attention,
Dark places hidden at the corner of every eye.
That solemn train cries out and all around
Her mourning whimper rises like harrowing fog
Calling all to upright attention and fear.
Looming like a spectre but a breath-span from your window
Slowly closing cold dread claws-
Naked numbness dumb as ice-
Cold dread claws upon thy waist.
And you,
You poor old thing,
Shivering in your pitiful shack of bones,
You never had any chance!
You were only human.
You were only human, you poor old thing.
Barreling on with brimstone slang:
Clang clang! Dang dang! Beelz Bub!
Sputtering an ocean of curses from turgid goat-flesh
Born of sadness to cause even more, yawning great maw
Jowls clanking with fresh hot oil drool steaming stark and lewd, and yet
That charred old shell so terse,
Blacker than sadness and slain like a hearse,
Is all that gives meaning to our every gain:
The dry rolling thunder of the funeral train.
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 12:10 AM UTC
The paths we cross in life
With others
Sometimes dictates the paths we take
Whether we want to go it alone
Or with someone shared down a mutual path
Not knowing where it will take us
Or how long it will last
By choice or fate
The beaten path is in the past
To never look back
Hoping
Onwards to something better
Possibly something great
These interjections of people into our lives
Sometimes it lasts
And sometimes people are gone
Before their time is due
Most of the time
It's out of our hands
When people are gone too soon
Whether it be a friend, family, or lover
Instead of asking Why?
We must learn to say Goodbye
With no regret
And no looking back
Keeping the past behind us
Onwards to the light
Out of the black
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 3:27 AM UTC
A pile of miles, standing before my eyes.
Watching waiting as the denial excape down the endless miles. And onwards into a weary smile.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 11:02 PM UTC
bed unmade days,
kitchen cock-all-around-roaches
email me thank you notes,
cockaround gratingly grate full
the dry cleaning unwrapped,
the plastic sheets dust covered,
can't recall why it matters at all
any of it
but she,
no
but she,
now-gone
pass by
the bed,
see the sign,
"to let"
on the toilet seat
upright
lie ever inwards onwards
idiots who let little things come
between,
wishing there were
ever still,
noisy
and so very
between
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 10:41 AM UTC
sustain inner spirit
through the winds of time
the changes will sweep
you through eternity
*ॐ पूर्णमदः पूर्णमिदं पूर्णात्पुर्णमुदच्यते
पूर्णश्य पूर्णमादाय पूर्णमेवावशिष्यते ॥
ॐ शान्तिः शान्तिः शान्तिः ॥*
but sustain yourself
through love and hate
sustain through destiny
through monotonous fate
countless rewinds and
fast forwards -
life is always
the same old play
and one day rise
above it all
onwards towards Brahman
with yourself reunite
*Om, That is Complete, This is also Complete, From Completeness rises that Completeness
From Completeness Subtract Completeness, and Completeness Remains
Om Peace, Peace, Peace.*
-Vijayalakshmi Harish
05.09.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 2:27 AM UTC
The solemn grey skies
reflecting the soul within.
Scarred beyond recognition
from wounds inside,
suffered outside.
Trying to fix what was broken
the gloomy soul strides forth.
Seething with an anxious desire to learn
continuing onwards, but all for naught.
Silent dew drops roll
down that calm mask.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 1:01 PM UTC
Did you know the East Indian Bottle Masala includes as many as 27 spices, or that an oil-free pickle served at their weddings is actually known as Wedding Pickle?
These and many such authentic East Indian masalas and pickles are available at East Indian Cozinha (Portuguese for kitchen), a food store started by Christina Kinny at Kolovery Village in Kalina, Santacruz. "I started East Indian Cozinha with an attempt to preserve and highlight our cuisine and culture," says the 24-year old, who has studied Masters in Social Work and currently, works with an enterprise that helps tribal farmers.
What’s in store?
Going back 500 years, the East Indian cuisine enjoys influences from Portuguese, British and Maharashtrian fare. The staples include rice, coconut, tamarind, fish and meats, with spices forming an integral part of the cuisine. For instance, Prawn Atola is a dry dish comprising prawns coated only with Vindaloo Masala featuring Kashmiri chilli, cumin and turmeric. "Most people from our community were farmers and would be out on field all day. So, the masalas and lemon would help preserve their food for a longer time," reasons Kinny.
At present, the store stocks six varieties of masala in 100g bottles (R150 onwards). These include Khuddi or Bottle Masala, Chinchoni (fish) Masala, Vindaloo Masala, Roast Rub, Kujit Masala and Tem Che Rose. She also offers Wedding Pickle, an oil-free variety prepared with raw papaya, carrots and dry dates. "All the recipes have been passed on from generations and are homemade," she informs.
However, making the masalas is no cakewalk. "It takes three days to dry spices under the sun. Then, we hand pound them and pack them tightly in bottles with wider openings," says Kinny. She recalls that in her grandmother’s time, the masalas were tightly stuffed in beer bottles. The bottles were darker, and hence, helped preserve the masala for at least a year, at room temperature.
Lugra love
East Indian Cozinha also stocks traditional 10-yard saris known as lugras. These are hand embroidered by Kinny’s mother, Carol. Previously made only from cotton with authentic gold borders, now, lugras are embroidered with sequins and threads. "She has been in the garment industry for the last 30 years. She also makes traditional accessories like kapotas (earrings), karis (hair pins), anklets, etc," informs Kinny.
read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses
www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 1:52 AM UTC