"sedimented" poems
In the wondrous story book of night,
I fully absorb and contemplate,
You were the one omnipresent,
in light years far and flames near.
As orbs of light, in many intensities and hues
the ray of infinite grace that envelops,
That feels like the caressing of lotus petals,
was you my eternal beloved.
Soft, frothing moon light has been
at times of pain my true consolation,
The moving comet my source of wonder,
that takes me to you in imagination.
A reader, I was keenly searching.
for meanings of things in light and dark
Being another character formed
of dust sedimented from many stars.
You are enshrined in the diamond
temple of my mind's still center
making you my lover was
in honor of my yen for sublime.
The story book of night has pages
on spirited mornings, noons and dusk
your benign presence in each step,
moves galaxies and milky ways.
I see your moving eye brows
in the tumult of dark rain clouds,
Your intense eyes flash love to me
when in pain,if I feel some doubt,
In waves one after another of ocean,
your hands embrace me to assure,
mountain wind from far distance
brings your songs nightingales sing.
I am a living monument that's breathed
from the elements , to keep on loving you
not ever a jealous lover,I am like a millioner
ready to sacrifice all just for your presence.
Is there any other lover with such care
who brings boundless grace, like you?
you've the very same eyes of my mother
that reach me the moment I fall.
In days I am moving within a dream
for which, you are the creator, moving spirit,
I turn the pages of storybook of night
whenever I want to be closer to your warmth.
A mirror you are reflecting my candor,
, more than anything I ever yearned for,
You are the river that flows along me,
to the ocean, eternally seething in wait.
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 7:34 AM UTC
I am the poem
I refuse to write.
My skin has formed itself
as sedimented book pages,
quietly injecting
our unspoken metaphors
into my bloodstream
of Murakami, of Plath,
of everything that hurt too much
to even whisper to my typewriter.
I am a poet,
and I will type you
into the night sky.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 8:16 PM UTC
In Parsley, a Levantine munificence accreted together in Tabbouleh,
herbage that covers fractured bedrock in a poultice of healing.
Secreted within, lie igneous outpourings of bloodied tomatoes,
those solid affections that had welled through an ocean floor
as Neptune quelled Gaia's contractions, her waters seeking to burst
beneath the wrinkled surface of a salty sea. She, an underbelly of sky,
pregnant in the overwhelm of magma, sweating out her heart in fire,
muted like a moon of Neptune, in his retrograde soliloquies, yet mirroring
hers in icy resurfacings of skin. The God of the Sea, boils an amnion
to hazy mists, how deep will his trident plunge to dislodge those Trojan ships
of deceptions ? Yet, Triton blows a conch for Gaia, not for man's duelling
and his warring tribes. He soothes her feverish gnashing of thighs
labouring continents. Some fires burn in water, like desultory heartbeats
moving the pace of rocks through the ocean floor, spiriting away
to stranger places still, marking maps of memories in the beauty of
a stillborn magma. The limestone they say is no blood relation to such
alien fructification, those oceanic intruders, bleeding still, spilling
secrets in reds and purples. The acid tears spilled in lemons merely
neutralised in syllables, sedimented to a community of limestone,
that possess no archaic remnants reminiscing through dead bones,
an age of glory. Now beauty lies in herbage over once raucous magma
and traces of a salty sea, freshness of life trailing her veins, in fragrance of Parsley
Jun 24, 2021
Jun 24, 2021 at 7:15 AM UTC
Sprung from sedimented slush,
who bothers;
the lotus
has unmatched class!
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 7:58 PM UTC
"A poem written by a drunken poet
**** inebriated by beauty so rare
and thought his words would be
immortal but did lack coherence"
on seeing her for a while, he gathered
"This beauty sure has a raw appeal,
but needs someone, patient and deft
with experience to polish and edit,
to bring out her true effulgence"
She was watching him keenly in silence
Are hearts capable of exchanging notes?
Her eyes shone as if she read his thoughts
"A rough stone, precious, am I, found out
from a distant mine, no definite shape or
remarkable shine, no one tried ever to cut it
and chisel fine, so that light 'll reflect from all faces
carets not clearly known, will you take it in your hands
and consider it as thine, lavish your love on it
and reveal the hidden beauty, that's ravishing
born out of sedimented carbon,soot laden on outer layer"
her eyes spoke to him in silence, and he smiled.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 3:04 PM UTC
This hour of the night feeds me pain; I grieve for her, in vein
a river, when she did flow nearer, I floated on, one could hope
only for an ablution, she washed away sedimented pain,
then, in a hurry broke away making waters muddied,
making things unclear, she becomes a rush towards other destinations.
A flower of arresting beauty, a scent never forgotten,
one would be horrified by the thought of plucking her to keep for oneself.
but as one stands watching, she withers, loses color, falls after a while
as a fruit, she entices, eaten by passing avaricious birds
she is reduced to seeds strewn near and far and peeled off skin.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 10:01 AM UTC
Ancient fort
surrounding the top of a mount,
reminding the formation of an invading army,
built on queer shaped steep rocks.
Sedimented layers of silence
centuries old, lay heaped all-round
unnoticed by dazed visitors.
Tales of blood, tears and heartbreaks
this fort has told aloud,
reverberated through the hill sides
for many successive generations,
making silent nights fill with
the sobbing sounds of village folks,
have now become muted.
This ancient fort is a memorial
of many things, men and women of yore-
marked with their lives;
valor, honor, and courage,
taking death as the answer to many vexing questions.
A time when 'kill and get killed in a heroic fight'
was above all other dictates of life.
Dragon flies in swarms,
like the reincarnation of soldiers
killed in hundreds in internecine wars,
invade the skies above the fort,
in a manic mood of war.
I close my eyes,
obliterate time and space
just for a moment
and see darkness,mourning the death of light.
**Who will dream lasting peace now at least-
to make all wars come to an end?
perhaps, countless forts, castles and garrisons, around the globe,
once shed blood, that flowed like rivers in all our lands.**
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 2:01 PM UTC
A figment of my imagination
Is all thats left of reality
In thinking and drinking
My base tendencies depict
A bleeding edge as uncertain as the truth
Its the end of an era
Of bewildered meanderings
I treat my thoughts
As provoking triggers
Whose indiscretion
Brings delight to my awareness
I look for the most sedimented mountains
In the vast plethora of rocks
As a diamond from the dust
My pursuit is of a grand illumination
Which opens the door to the corridors of power
That takes away any existence of mediocrity
Choosing in anticipation that my efforts will lead to success
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 4:30 AM UTC
I have love on the surface of the skin I move.
I have love on the muscle I stretch.
I have love on the lungs I breathe through.
I have love on the nerves I sense with.
I have love sedimented into my bones.
Although occasionally my bones will fail me.
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 12:21 AM UTC
Lightning
with fiery shades of wrath
woven into its shards
ripped the horizon,
dived into the ocean
to its depths of sedimented pretensions,
baptised it with drops of sulphurous fire,
to a cleansed conscience.
The ocean rose up in a high tide of exuberance,
escorted me to its depths
for the drop of sulphurous fire to baptise me,
to give my yearnings the shape of a flame
that puts my soul on fire.
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 4:20 AM UTC
I won’t find you through poetry
You are engraved in my heart
I don’t search
Standing here above clouds
my beautiful clothes
in tones of blue
fitting well to the charming veil
colorless transparent
an accentuation just
for the deep darkness of
crystal black
long long hair
I comb every day
beside a mount steam
waiting for your appearance
as love
singing a song of ripening desire
to the creatures and things
accompanying
some lie aside to cheer
some shy away - Hide
behind rocks to listen just
I smile to all the innocence
there is
knowing all is living
made of you and I
As I of you and you of I
then molecules shine in air
things know
they can see and touch that smile
made of my fingertips -
the bearer of all healing
my eyes wear a makeup
made of the finest pigment of wild mountain flowers
tuned to materialize
by the blue glitter of the holy dress of truth
made of my love for you
my perfume is what I am is my skin silkened by
that fragrance of wild roses 7 levels above the sacred sleeper
that makes you forget of all things but the fragrance
then you wake up and say
as if - as if it smells like roses everywhere
You stand there in a shelter of pine at my doorway wooden
smile in such way that you are the carrier of all universal attraction
I give my hand to you
the soldier of truth - WE
we are one standing under that pine
making us both invisible
You smile (in the house of love)
There I met you once
There we keep each other
Only there I will see you
again and again
without stories of the mundane
of cycles
of lives
experienced
I close my eyes
not to see you through
the iota of the sedimented
delusion of records yet to be formed (by you and I)
not to touch you
stop my burning desire
let it burn in the scariest of my own illusive deception
let it burn with the impurity blindly beard
so is I what cannot be wasted
so is I what I reserve for you to deserve of you
because WE
we live in a timeless tale of love
one moment of love
we exchange in silence
where you are the sun I am that one crystal for you to shine through me
and create
***
And so I go now again
return to my life story
cheerlessly
but a must
for our common goal
of excellence
without you in it
my duty is highest warriorship
for all
I am the green eyed invincible warrior
made of a zero or one
I go in wisdom and light
Peace is you in my heart
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 8:09 AM UTC
My ship was attacked,
And, I being blue,
thought that it was the end.
My crew was not putting up a
fight at all.
They smashed my decks,
tore my masts and laughed as my ship wailed in agony.
I stared up at them,
I knew that fighting with them would
mean my doom
and I knew that I did not have anyone to scare them away from me.
But,
I did not want them on my ship.
I know that I may not be the best captan,
I know I may not be the most bloodthirsty or ruthless,
but this is my ship
and I want to be in control of it.
I hooked my eyes on them,
expression blank
and walked towards them.
I felt a cool hardness in my soul.
They were going to get off of my ship,
without me
having to do a single thing.
I breathed in light
and then expelled
mines of gold sedimented
in black and blurry grey
from the depths of my yellow heart.
I make a sphere of gold translucent
around my ship,
pushing away all the unwanted.
My ship came back to life,
the light had cured.
I go on,
to the horizon
to meet the purple sun
and tell Him all about my adventure.
-storm-
Jul 5, 2020
Jul 5, 2020 at 3:27 PM UTC
I am a thinker:
although, can I think away --
sedimented thoughts?
Mar 16, 2023
Mar 16, 2023 at 4:36 AM UTC
That
quiet
whistle... before the tempest,
a strand of hair lifted with stormy sent
advertising how time certainly went
without a signal or formal request.
| |
You recognize the Summer has nightfall
leaving fertile the ground for renewal,
where the spring seeded wild flowers were plucked
and first bronze tan burned leaves gently glided.
| |
Soon our feet will crack the crispy mantle,
lemon, carrot, cerise and chocolate,
colored sounds of the past paving our path
sedimented under frequent sun bath.
| |
Then, freezing cotton will carpet this earth,
we'll warm hands around hot beverages
from the plants we sprouted throughout these years,
covered in adventure collected cloths.
| |
But I'll mention Winter when I get there,
for now I need to garden...
| |
| |
_________________/ | \\_________________
and prepare!
Oct 21, 2019
Oct 21, 2019 at 5:51 AM UTC