"pare" poems
Are tumhe dekha aj to lga ye sab tumhe bta du.
Haq hai nhi mera koi phir b thoda haq jata du ..
Or kehdu tum behad khoobsurat **
Ye jo tumne akhon ke kajal ko b palko ki had me dal rakha hai.
In aankhon ne jane kitna kehar sambhal rakha hai.
Kya chamak hai aankho me jaise ek choti si khush duniya ka sapna paal rakha hai.
Socha cheru thoda tumhe or thoda sata du.
Are tumhe dekha aj to lga ye sab tumhe bta du.
Haq hai nhi mera koi phir b thoda haq jata du ..
Or kehdu tum nazneen **
Phir kuch tumhare galon k un khaddo ki gehrayi dekhi.
Na us se gehri koi khaayi dekhi.
Nazar htane wala tha k us muskan ne rok lia..
Muje aj sambhalne se pehle tere chehre nadan ne rok lia.
Jane tumhe ye sab kehna lagta hai khata kyu.
Are tumhe dekha aj to lga ye sab tumhe bta du.
Haq hai nhi mera koi phir b thoda haq jata du ..
Or kehdu tum dilnashi **
Vo choti si kali bindi jo thik maathe k me kahi hai.
Vo b har shayar ko kheench rahi hai.
Jaise muje kehti ** idhar aao tumhe kano k jhumko ka pta du.
Are tumhe dekha aj to lga ye sab tumhe bta du.
Haq hai nhi mera koi phir b thoda haq jata du ..
Or kehdu tum dalkashi **
Ye phir thode uljhe thode suljhe baal hai.
Inki to ada hi bemisal Hai
Tumhe tang karte hai.
Manmarji chalate hai jaise tujse jung karte hai.
Chere pe aate hai tum unhe phir peeche karti.
Kabhi clip se kabhi rubber se kheenche rakhti **
Kabhi aaye chehre pe to shayad main b hta du.
Are tumhe dekha aj to lga ye sab tumhe bta du.
Haq hai nhi mera koi phir b thoda haq jata du ..
Or kehdu tum koi kehkasha **
Or vo sone ki nath ko koi
kaise taal sakta hai.
Jise tumne apni teekhi si naak me daal rakha hai.
Or kuch batein in sab se pare hai.
Tera chutkan sa Gussa hai jane tu kaise handle kare hai.
Phir vo pyari si hasi vo sharm haya vo bachpana vo nadaniya.
Samjhdari vo nasamjhi
Vo adayein vo shaitaniya.
Or sambko tumne brabar rakha hai.
Jane ye hisab kaise lagakar rakha hai.
Kya kehna hai kya sunna hai kya bolna hai kya btana.
Kab ruthna hai kab manana hai kab satana hai kab jatana hai.
Teri har ek choti moti khoobiyon ne dil me aatank macha rakha hu.
Jane tune kitne salo se khud ko ishq se bacha rakha hai.
Jane mujme kab se or kyu ye thode guroor k lakshan aaye hai
K tuje suna sabne hai samjh sirf hum paaye hai.
Tum jaisa or koi mere aas paas ni hai.
Phir kaise manliya jaye tum aam ladki ** tum me kuch khas nahi hai.
Ha aj maine ek kadam apne beech ki sarhad se thoda bahar aaya.
Tumne apna hunar azmaya tha vo pic dalke use shayri bnake maine apna hunar aazmaya hai.
ye padhke tum socho k inam du is shayar ko ya koi saza du.
Are tumhe dekha aj to lga ye sab tumhe bta du.
Haq hai nhi mera koi phir b thoda haq jata du ..
Or kehdu tum afreen **
Tum khoobsurat **
Sep 12, 2020
Sep 12, 2020 at 1:20 AM UTC
Duniya ko janam dene wali maa
Teri mamta kaha kho ***
insan insan ko mar raha
Aadmi ki niyat haiwan si ** ***
Roh pare wo bhi
Jisne banaya ye jahan,
Dekh es duniya ki surat usne bhi kaha,
Badal raha insan,
Ab badal raha insan......
Tumhare sikhaye hua raste se
bhatak raha insan,
Lut ke ejjat ek aurat ki
Mita di mamta ki pahchan,
Kar ke dhuli aanchal teri
Badal raha insan,
Ab badal raha insan.......
Kash! na hoti duniya
Na rahta insan,
Bata ke roya "Manish" bhi
Kalyugi insan ki pahchan,
Badal raha insan,
Ab badal raha insan.....
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 6:02 AM UTC
Ang sabi nila na ang pinakamasakit daw na tunog ay ang iyak at hikbi,
Malakas man, mahina o pag-pipigil
Lahat daw ‘yon ay pare-pareho lang
Tama nga siguro sila kasi ang iyak ay nakapag-sasabi ng totoong nararamdaman, ang iyak ay isang kalungkutan
Noong gabing yon, narinig ko ang pinakamasakit na tunog
Sabay tayong lumuha
Sabay nating iniyak ang sakit na para bang masasagot lahat ng tanong sa ating isipan
Mga pagkukulang, mga sana at dapat na pareho nating gustong malaman, gustong ipaglaban
Mga tanong na matagal ng kinukwestyon ang mga bagay na hindi maintindihan
Mga pagkukulang na pinipilit buuin na unti-unting lumalabo
Mga sana at dapat na matagal nang pinipigilan
Ngunit narinig ko ang tunog ng bawat galaw ng iyong mga paa na humahaplos sa sahig
Narinig ko kung paano mo ikinabit muli ang iyong mga paa sa iyong medyas at sapatos,
Kung paano mo ito itinali at binuhol nang napakahigpit
Narinig ang bawat kilos at galaw
Sa huling beses ay narinig ko ang iyong mga daliri
Kung paano dumapo ang iyong palad sa pinto
Hindi iyak at hikbi ang nangibabaw
Kundi ang tunog ng pagsara ng pinto
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 8:41 AM UTC
Sensitibo akong tao, kaunting pangungutya, malaki na ang epekto.
Nabuhay ako sa paniniwalang lahat ng babae, tumitingin lang sa gwapo.
Kasalanan ko bang maging pangit? Siguro hindi, siguro oo.
Sabi nila walang pangit. Ugali lang ang pangit sa ibang tao.
Nakasanayan ko nalang na walang naririnig, kahit lantaran akong laitin.
Ininda lahat ng pananakit, maswerte nalang kung minsa'y daplisin.
Hindi ko kayang lumaban, patay malisya lang ang damdamin.
Ayoko ng gulo, ni isang salita wala akong binanggit kahit aking isipin.
Aking babaguhin, karamihan sa kababaihan ay tumitingin sa gwapo.
"Ano bang meron sa mga gwapo?" Pare-pareho lang naman kaming tao.
Alam kong mahalaga din ang panlabas na kaanyuan pero,
Yun ba ang minamahal? Yun nalang ba ang basehan sa mundong ito?
Lahat ng 'yan nakaraan nalang sa akin.
Magmula nung dumating ka, pinaniwala **** mali ang aking hangarin.
Hangarin na tanggapin na walang kaaya-aya sa akin.
Kahit anong pilit ko, pilit **** itinatanggi at hindi pinapansin.
Hindi ako gwapo. Pero kaya kong harapin ng may magandang kalooban ang magulang mo.
Hindi ako mayaman. Pero ipapakita ko sayo na ang kayamanan ay nasa kaya nating ibuo.
Hindi ako yung taong magara ang kasuotan kapag haharap sayo.
Aanhin ko yun? Kinabukasan natin ang aabangan ko, hindi pagiging maluho.
Hindi ako yung lalake na pagkakagastusan ka ng sobra sa tuwing may selebrasyon.
Gusto ko kase maramdaman natin. Hindi sa nakikita, kundi mismo sa pagkakataon.
Hindi ko kayang lumaban, duwag ako, at nananatiling mahinahon.
Pero hindi ko hahayaan na may umapi sayo na kahit sino, makakatikim sakin 'yon.
Hindi ako yung tipong kaya kang pakiligin sa mga salita.
Madalas kasi wala akong tiwala na kaya ko yun magawa.
Panay ang pagkumpara ng itsura ko sa iba.
Kahit ganun naman , lahat ng sinabi ko sayo, totoo at may isang salita.
Hindi ako gwapo, oo.
Hindi ako maporma, oo.
Hindi ako astig, oo.
Hindi ako yung matitipuhan agad kase, oo, ganito lang ako.
Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 10:08 AM UTC
di ko alam kung ako lang ang ganito
o marami ring taong nahihirapan ang emosyon ay ipagtanto.
nahihirapan isulat, ilagay sa kwaderno,
buhatin ang lapis, at gumawa ng mga letrang bubuo sa isang kantang ikaw lang nakakarinig.
isang kantang sumusigaw sa puso’t isipan
isang boses na nagsasabing “ako’y pakinggan.”
isang bugkos ng mga salita na di mo alam kung pag pinagtabi tabi mo na sa iyong papel
ay magkakaroon ng kahulugan.
oo.
madalas akong ganito.
na andaming gustong sabihin ng utak ko
pero ni bibig ko o ang kamay ko ay di alam kung paano ito ibubuo.
bakit ang dali magsulat?
pero ang emosyon, hirap na hirap ibuklat?
minsan,
nananalangin ako
na sana may taong lalapit dito
para turuan akong sabihin kung ano nasa utak ko.
ngunit kahit meron mang ganung tao,
alam ko di parin niya makukuha ang aking gusto.
dahil ang mga salita na galing sa utak ko,
na para sa akin ay kumakanta ng napakagandang musika
ay sa kanya naman, halos pareho, pero di gaanong tugma sa pagkanta.
kaya oo.
kahit hirap na hirap ako,
na sabihin sa lahat ang emosyong sinisigaw ng mga piyesa sa utak ko,
tuloy parin ako sa pagsulat kagaya nito.
dahil onti onti kong naiintindihan
na ang lungkot, saya, o mapa ano man,
ay iba iba ang kahulugan sa tao.
pero pare parehong ang dama ng nagagawa nito sa puso.
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 6:36 PM UTC
.*well **** me, after writing such a revealing piece, i really need a double whiskey gob-smack... i need a drink... i really need to have drink... but it's honesty, i'm not ashamed of it... people have a harder time owning up to gay bar pop songs in their closet, like a Belinda Carlisle song... ooh... personally? i've never come across anything more **** than a pregnant woman ************ or, to mind the pursuit of the Wendol idol? exhibitionism to boot; a striptease? pare by comparison... you can't exactly possess the carnality of a woman, and the concept of the mind's eye... with a fetus, to boot.*
in terms of jerking off...
**** me,
i moved away from
fine art nudes...
found an alternative
outlet....
https://tinyurl.com/ybhzl3x5
i.e.?
the exhibitionism
of
pregnant women...
it's like peering into
a wormhole,
of sorts...
who the hell needs
****** glory-holes,
******** crap?
pull me to sight
a pregnant woman
encouraging exhibitionism
and i'll be there,
within second,
with a tissue...
**** it...
she can do it, and doesn't shy
away from?
**** is
so lost...
been catching up on
the whole American Pie franchise...
m.i.w.i.l.f.
mom in waiting i'd
love to ****
who said that jerking off leads
men to ******* ***
****** *****
who said we would turn the
******** avenue?
oops? for not being
adventurous enough?
adventurous consisting
of watching
a pregnant woman
exhibition herself,
oiling herself,
jerking off...
what... if i were married...
could probably
become the mouth and tongue
of God in terms of oral ***
******* losers...
having the negligence
stipend in allowing a wife,
as pregnant as she is...
to exhibition herself like that...
for me to pick up
the crumbs from the table...
******* losers...
i'll admit it...
jerking off to a pregnant
woman exhibit herself
beats jerking off to fine art
nudes.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 9:46 PM UTC
I used to believe in good old days,
Still concerned about the little ways.
To get back in my childhood era.
Those uncountable acquaintances,
Now they are just faded faces.
Buzzing around oftentimes,
I do look at them with all my gracious Rhymes.
Those long sandwalks, I heard many voices & those preacher talks.
Standing on the top of a pile,
I saw the world with my pure human eyes.
My incapability of not performing as others,
Don’t forget we came from different mothers.
Though the course may be disturbingly fascinating,
Spot you there at the end of the lives you kept devastating.
I walked clean and I did no mean.
There was nothing to fear, but one day someone molested me who was so near.
Crippled inside myself that night,
Was so devastated couldn’t spoke a word inspite.
Moments still glare, dig in your knife so that you can pare.
Shadows no more controls me,
I fiercely play with them, and still move freely.
Enjoyed every bit just like my first bicycle wheelie.
I did both,from playing with slum folks to slept like a sloth.
Now I miss my never ending era.
Entered my puberty,
with little bit of curiosity
To not to have those thoughts control authority.
I was wild, a state called child.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 2:49 PM UTC
L'anguilla, la sirena
dei mari freddi che lascia il Baltico
per giungere ai nostri mari,
ai nostri estuari, ai fiumi
che risale in profondo, sotto la piena avversa,
di ramo in ramo e poi
di capello in capello, assottigliati,
sempre piú addentro, sempre piú nel cuore
del macigno, filtrando
tra gorielli di melma finché un giorno
una luce scoccata dai castagni
ne accende il guizzo in pozze d'acquamorta,
nei fossi che declinano
dai balzi d'Appennino alla Romagna;
l'anguilla, torcia, frusta,
freccia d'Amore in terra
che solo i nostri botri o i disseccati
ruscelli pirenaici riconducono
a paradisi di fecondazione;
l'anima verde che cerca
vita là dove solo
morde l'arsura e la desolazione,
la scintilla che dice
tutto comincia quando tutto pare
incarbonirsi, bronco seppellito:
l'iride breve, gemella
di quella che incastonano i tuoi cigli
e fai brillare intatta in mezzo ai figli
dell'uomo, immersi nel tuo fango, puoi tu
non crederla sorella?
3.8k
boxes full of them
neon
black
patterns
and more
what is better than cheap sunglasses
$1, $2, $3 what more
than buying a pare of cheap sunglasses
flashy
cool
never out of style
go get some cheap sunglasses
Apr 1, 2010
Apr 1, 2010 at 10:31 PM UTC
Bakit ba gusto ng mga tao ng simpleng mga salita?
Kahit ba gasgas na, sugatan na o nakakaumay na?
Wala ba silang pandinig?
Hindi ba nila alam na nakakapurga na?
Bakit ba kapag durog ka,
Lahat ng salita, tila lahat sa'yo patama?
Gusto ng tao ng payak na salita
Dahil ba ayaw niyang mag-isip?
Iyon lang ba ang mga salitang may puso?
Pag-ibig, nasasaktan, mahal, ulan, luha
Na paulit-ulit ko nang naririnig
Nasasaktan ka, oo pero ano pa ba
Pwede mo bang sabihin sa ibang paraan?
Kailangan ba lahat tayo ay pare-pareho?
Kung gusto ng lahat ng simple,
Lahat na tayo magkakatulad
Sabi nga ng anak ni Oble
Generika gaya ni Lang Leav
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 3:15 AM UTC
because our dreams of leaf-canopies and lignin
arrive at a certain variety of green, we will zither
anew with song
here in Bulacan; all the leaves are capsized
brandishing inflorescences as naked as
the scent of petrichor girdled
on the cobblestones: they are forsaken not by
trees but by seasons only, a twofold deliberation
of caprice: there is only two of what is spoken.
such is the warmth and coldness,
missing their obvious targets, hesitant and abstruse,
scattered and at long last, never collected
deftly camouflaged in the familiar drapery,
“Tantusan mo!” as they cry for marks to remember,
we touch the cicatrix to measure with our jagged hands
how much we have forgotten.
what we cease to remember descends deep, as wash-hand basins
concur such depth,
into the well of ourselves, later to discover such
perilous foundling in the squall of either morning or evening,
still devoid of sense: still arguing whether there is much
to reconcile with what has been found and what has been pictured
now, altered by such loss: this is danger, and so is nothing,
swollen and tender, the waters of the estero reek of such
remembering – we cannot ignore its perfume, oddly taking the shape
of the next dagger slowly making its way towards the back
of the skull to pare with river-run precision, what we all
try to hold back inside; so as if to say,
“Tantusan mo!” to remember
where we last took off, like a heron,
or a bird, wary of distances.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC
Akala ko nung una hindi na magbabago,
Itong maumay na takbo ng buhay ko.
Sabi nila, "pare hindi ka na natuto."
Oh pare-pareho lang ang aking problema.
Pero noong makita ko ang halaga mo,
At ang ning-ning ng iyong mga mata.
Lahat ng hapdi tila agad nawawala,
Naaalala ko na..
Tumitigil nga pala ang oras,
Kapag ikaw ay nariyan.
At ang lahat ng mga kulay;
Gumaganda.
Ipangako mo naman sa akin,
Na hinding-hindi mawawala
Ang iyong mga ngiti
Na kasing liwanag ng mga tala.
Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 1:10 PM UTC
Has one ever known
The therapy of cutting fruit?
To pare a pear
Its skin left bare
And cleaned of its coarse green suit?
Underneath
The white meat
With knife parts so easily
That, in my grief
Blade unsheathed
Slice here and here and here.
Sweet relief! The nectars pour
In the sink and on the floor,
Its ****** sheen
--The loveliest I’ve seen!—
So I cut more and more.
I’ll cut the fruit, just like I said
One can't **** what's already dead.
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
Nitong nakaraan, naging nostalgic ako sa mga new year na nagdaan, mga new year nung bata kami, and sa new year na dadating pa.
Oo sobrang saya ngayon, hindi rin naman mapapantayan ang saya! Pero alam ko na iba na siya. Ibang-iba na siya―kasi noon, kumpleto pa kami at wala pang nawawala samin. Kumpleto pa ang mga lolo at lola namin. May mga fireworks display, sinturon ni hudas mula sa kanto hanggang kabilang kanto. Isinasampay pa ung sinturon ni hudas sa katawan namin tapos magppicture kami, may trumpilyo, luces tapos isusulat ang pangalan sa daan, maging yung ray-gun na paputok meron din. May mga pagkain pang nakalagay sa la mesa dahil naghahanda ang mga lola. May ham, tinapay, hot choco, at kung ano-ano pa na pati mga kapitbahay namin doon din kumakain salo-salo ang lahat! Meron din sayawan sa kalsada mga 90's na tugtugan "don't cry" sa gitna ng kalsada.
Habang sinasalubong ang taon, we played this game na "thankful for 2022, and looking forward in 2023" with cousins and titos and titas while drinking wine and alcohol til we drop. Ang saya mapakinggan yung mga bagay na pinagpapasalamat nila at mga bagay na nilo-look forward nila lalo yung mga things they share about our family. It means so much na pare-parehas kami na support sa isa't-isa at ramdam yung pagmamahal sa bawat isa.
Sabi ng isa kong tita, darating daw yung time na baka maiba na dahil siyempre magkakapamilya, career, ibang paths to take, na baka yung iba di na mag new year sa Clemente. Pero sabi niya sila ay nandiyan pa din dahil yun ang gusto nila. Oo alam ko pwedeng mangyari dahil na-experience ko na sa mga kaibigan ko. Dati palagi kaming magkakasama tuwing new year at pasko. Mahal namin ang isa't-isa na kung pwede nga lang palagi kaming magkakasama. Pero siyempre iba-iba kami ng mundong ginagalawan at tinatahak, may lumipat ng bahay, may mga pamilya na din kaya bihira na lang din kami magkasama sama. Nakakamiss!
Hindi ko alam ang future, pero sana lahat kami nandito pa din magkakasama, isang buong pamilya na magkakasamang haharap sa panibagong taon habang nabubuhay kaming lahat!
Masaya ako na na-experience ko ang pasko at new year sa Tondo! Marami akong ipinagpapasalamat hindi lang sa 2022, kundi magmula 1992! Alam ng puso ko kung ano yung mga bagay na yun hindi ko maisa-isa, basta alam ko masaya lahat at grateful ako sa family na ibinigay sa akin ni Lord. Hindi man kami mayaman, madami man kaming pagkakaiba-iba, pero solid mahal namin ang isa't-isa. Looking forward to 2023 and more! **
Jan 3, 2023
Jan 3, 2023 at 2:05 AM UTC
Samaj ke bandisho se azad
Bin pankho se urna chahti hu
Pankh tute hai to kya
Khawo se aashaman sajana chahti hu
Hoshlo ki urran hu main
kisi ki muskan hu main
bharat ki anokhi shan hu main
band pare khawbo ki arman hu main
manti hu zindgi ke safar me
Me mil jate hai kuch humsafar
naa hote hue apne
Phir ban jate band aankho ke sapne
Haa main uarna chahti hu
Oos ke bund ki tarah dhara ko susobhit karna chahti hu
khilkhilana chahti hu
Hasna chahti hu
Apne pankho ko failye dhara ko napna chahti hu
apni khusboo se sbko mekhkana chahti hu
apne gunjan se nabh ko gunjit karna chahti hu
kali se ful ki tarah khilna chahti hu
kya thi galti meri
kis bat ki milli mujhe ye saja
ye Samaj ki bandishe
Pairo m jakri ye janjiro se niklna hahti hu
kuch kehna chahti hai
Khud ko khud se milana chahti hu
kyuki jaise main dikhti hu waise hu nai
Mere hai kuch azad sapne
Pinjre m band panchi nahi hu
aazad bharat ki ek shakti ka rup hu
Ek larki hu mai
Haan ek larki
jo khud apna itishah bnana chati hai
Auro se alag khud ki duniya basana chahti hai
kUch karna chati hai
Apne liye
apno ke liye
Iss jahan ke liye.
Feb 15, 2021
Feb 15, 2021 at 7:48 AM UTC
And I solemnly swear
on the chill of secrecy
that I know you not, this room never,
the swollen dress I wear,
nor the anonymous spoons that free me,
nor this calendar nor the pulse we pare and cover.
For all these present,
before that wandering ghost,
that yellow moth of my summer bed,
I say: this small event
is not. So I prepare, am dosed
in ether and will not cry what stays unsaid.
I was brown with August,
the clapping waves at my thighs
and a storm riding into the cove. We swam
while the others beached and burst
for their boarded huts, their hale cries
shouting back to us and the hollow slam
of the dory against the float.
Black arms of thunder strapped
upon us, squalled out, we breathed in rain
and stroked past the boat.
We thrashed for shore as if we were trapped
in green and that suddenly inadequate stain
of lightning belling around
our skin. Bodies in air
we raced for the empty lobsterman-shack.
It was yellow inside, the sound
of the underwing of the sun. I swear,
I most solemnly swear, on all the bric-a-brac
of summer loves, I know
you not.
1.9k
Les portes des églises et celles des écoles sont fermées.
Aucune personne décente n'est en effet dans les rues,
Où l'on voit que des crimes abjects et des horribles abus.
Plusieurs pare-brises sont brisés par des pierres mal lancées.
La violence pleut dans les rues et dans les corridors;
On ne voit ni les chiens, ni les chats en dehors.
Des maigres oiseaux, sur les branches, avec dédain et stupeur,
Regardent plusieurs voyous et charlatans au visage masqué.
C'est triste de constater ces crimes odieux. Quelle horreur!
Il y a une guerre hostile? On se demande quel parti va gagner?
On peut entendre la voix venue d'un vieillard de quelques parts
Qui crie faiblement: « Nous sommes tous des pauvres victimes,
Des clochards, qui se suicident pour des politiciens, pour des avares. »
Pas trop **** on peut voir une femme folle avec un ami intime,
Tous deux en haillons. C'est une image de cauchemar qui prouve
Que le pays est devenu un enfer sur la terre. A la radio, on dit
Que quelques bateaux de la Marine Américaine se trouvent
Dans la rade. Qu'est qu'ils font sur notre territoire? On fuit
Ou on ne fuit pas? On n'en peut pas. Tout le monde est en prison.
La violence neige de sang dans les rues d'un pays tropical, où la peur
Règne. Les enfants n'osent pas aller jouer dans les rues, où la terreur
Siffle comme des serpents, comme les mitraillettes des démons.
Aucune guerre n'est civile et celle d'un même peuple est aussi violente
Et diabolique. Mon Dieu, les choses vont très mal dans les rues avoisinantes.
La violence pleut et tout le monde pleure. Les sinistrés sont partout aux abois.
On attend l'arrivée des bons anges qui viendront peut-être dans quelques mois.
Copyright © Juin 2019, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés.
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poésie.
Tuesday, June 18, 2019
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 1:12 AM UTC
585
I like to see it lap the Miles—
And lick the Valleys up—
And stop to feed itself at Tanks—
And then—prodigious step
Around a Pile of Mountains—
And supercilious peer
In Shanties—by the sides of Roads—
And then a Quarry pare
To fit its Ribs
And crawl between
Complaining all the while
In horrid—hooting stanza—
Then chase itself down Hill—
And neigh like Boanerges—
Then—punctual as a Star
Stop—docile and omnipotent
At its own stable door—
1.8k
I dipped a cup of water,
From the edge of endless sea.
Such ocean I will know as God,
While the cup resembles me.
Within the cup are particles,
Of substance undefined;
Yet sole in their uniqueness,
And clearly unrefined.
I’ll view such things as trials,
Or memories distilled;
That oft obscure such clarity,
In practice of my will.
The sand I’ll place this cup upon,
Shall be of life, surround;
Ever-changing with the wind,
Forms ripples on this ground.
Compressing cup into the soft,
Creates stability;
But grounded to such fickle sand,
Defers my destiny.
So lightly I will plant this cup,
On this shore and unafraid;
And welcome curious tidal reach,
With Spirit’s hand in wave.
The sun that rises, east to west,
Is incessant pass of time.
Intense or distant is its charm,
And never will be mine.
As it speeds its warmth and bright,
Across my vessel, waits;
Such heat will pare my still design,
And I’ll evaporate.
Yet, choice in my possession,
To choose a time, that when,
I’m left with only particles,
I may dip my cup again.
There’s comfort in the knowledge,
Of life upon this shore;
Where time may find me self-contained,
And needing nothing more.
Some winds deposit challenges,
For some I’m unprepared;
Appending my complexity,
To those I choose to share.
One day the sands will surely shift,
And toppled I will be;
Spilling freely, I’ll reach out,
Returning to the sea.
Apr 30, 2010
Apr 30, 2010 at 9:44 AM UTC
The flesh may still be fine...
One must just pare bruised
And bad spots away,
As a razor once excised mine.
A blurred mind mused
At the slowness of life
When it oozed,
Crimson's contrast
On pale skin,
Like paint
Escaped my palette,
Or red roses on canvas,
Mute shouts of color
Wasted in slick puddles
On the floor.
Red too soon fades sepia;
Wounds become scars,
Their hardness protects,
Forever reminds.
Though grown timid
Of assaults from steel,
Old psyche still yields
To lancet's probing,
Words released fall,
Now as drops to paper.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 3:59 PM UTC
1
I don’t know
about you
but my fingernails
they keep growing
like Pinnochio’s nose;
I pare them
and keep them neat and short
and when I look again a week later
they’ve grown and seem to say:
So what you’re going to do about it?
It’d be alright if you were a woman,
but as a man
everyone expects you to keep us short and neat.
Oh, I just can’t bear
these decades of nail-taunting
and my computer calculations show
a quarter of my life is wasted trimming my fingernails
and with a quarter in sleep
half my life is gone between nails and snores
Well now -
I’m never again cutting my fingernails
I’ll just let them grow
and grow;
and as far as I care
they can grow like Jack’s beanstalk
2
Sure, the concerned
amongst you might say:
Oh, that’s not a good idea
to let your fingernails grow
But to you, I say:
Have you even considered
the advantages if I had long fingernails?
I could literally reach out to you
wherever you are
and not just through the internet
but with the help of GPS technology
and google maps
I could locate you precisely
and give you a tickle!
Now, wouldn’t you love that!
3
And when I’m famous
a fingernail celebrity
and people come to meet me
and want to shake my hands
I’d say: Hey, shake my nails instead!
And if I’m walking in the streets
and anyone wants my help, I’d say:
Yeah – you scratch my back
and I scratch yours!
4
And of course you might say
(Oh how so concerned you are):
But how will you use your keyboard
to type your awful nail-biting poems?
And so I say to you:
Hey, where do you live?
In a cave in Siberia or what?
Haven’t you heard of speech to voice technology?
And so, dear friends,
I don’t know about you
but it’s long nails for me
and if somewhere in the world
as you are driving or reading a book
or while at a picnic
if you see nails reaching out to you
from across the oceans and skies
and giving you a tickle,
you know it’s me, your nail-some friend….
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 6:55 PM UTC
How does the rancher learn to dance
The annual rhythms of the land?
When do we bring the cows, bawling,
From open summer to sheltered winter pastures?
When is it time to bring the stubborn bulls
To the empty, urgent cows,
Or to remove them from contented cows,
Grown placid in the heaviness of calves?
How do we know the time
To round up the sweltering herds,
Bringing the bellering calves to brand?
Or when do we cull the frightened heifers,
Lucky in their selection, but uncertain?
When should we pare the weanlings,
And when call we the buyers?
And, when is the time for hiking forty miles
Of rusting fence,
Replacing posts,
Mending broken wire
Before the changing of pastures?
And when is the time to come to ease,
To sense the satisfaction
In seeing grazing cattle,
Tails swishing away the black flies of June,
Moving through gray-green prairie grass
On their way to cool creek water?
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 8:29 AM UTC
Abhi toh aadhi raat hi hai,
Din ka aana abhi baki hai
Abhi toh unki aankhon mai khona suru hi kiye hai, unki yaadon mai khona abhi baki hai
Abhi toh unke lafzo ko hi sun paa rhe hai,
Unki saanson ko sunna abhi baki hai
Abhi toh bas beete hue pal hi yaad aa rhe hai, aane wale kal ko samjhna abhi baki hai
Abhi toh khuda se lad pare hai hum,
Unhe manna ke tumhe pana abhi baki hai
Abhi toh bas tum humse dur hue **
tumhra wapas aake hume gale se lagana
abhi baki hai.
Abhi toh aadhi raat hi hai,
Din ka aana abhi baki hai
Mar 3, 2019
Mar 3, 2019 at 5:44 AM UTC
Ruk-Ruk kar chalna, girna aur sambhalna,
Koi mujhe rokna, jara sa koi tokna….
Wayastata se thora saham gya hu,
Dil mein bane apne khali ghar se thora machal gya hu,
Koi to jara tokna, thora sa to tatolna...
Sapne kahi beshud se pare hai,
Chaandani raato mein andhero se ghire hai,
Pata nhi kise dhundh raha hu,
Ya andheri galiyo mein yuhi ghum raha hu,
Der hui par thama to nhi hu,
Thora sa bhatak gya par bhula to nhi hu,
Kahi kisi ne awaaz lagai hai,
Dur kisi ne to roshni jalaai hai..
Jara thori dur sath chalna, thora sa to mujhe samajhna..
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 1:57 PM UTC
your behavior is ****** she writes to him,
you're a boar, without a cure,
my good ant Anna often asks me,
how the hail i except you,
she says you belong to that banned of men
that effect a woman's life badly
she also suspects you of elicit affairs
goes on to ad you are to me not fare
and we too don't make a good pare
its about time we go our own weigh
since we don't feet each other at all.
i'm sorry though
i had to pain you this heartful later
but bitter swoon than letter.
p.s. thank god i mate the man who scares and laughs me more than you.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 1:42 PM UTC