"silted" poems
Back when it took all day to come up
from the curving broad ponds on the plains
where the green-winged jacanas ran on the lily pads
easing past tracks at the mouths of gorges
crossing villages silted in hollows
in the foothills
each with its lime-washed church by the baked square
of red earth and its
talkers eating fruit under trees
turning a corner and catching
sight at last of inky forests far above
steep as faces
with the clouds stroking them and the glimmering
airy valleys opening out of them
waterfalls still roared from the folds
of the mountain
white and thundering and spray drifted
around us swirling into the broad leaves
and the waiting boughs
once I took a tin cup and climbed
the sluiced rocks and mossy branches beside
one of the high falls
looking up step by step into
the green sky from which rain was falling
when I looked back from a ledge there were only
dripping leaves below me
and flowers
beside me the hissing
cataract plunged into the trees
holding on I moved closer
left foot on a rock in the water
right foot on a rock in deeper water
at the edge of the fall
then from under the weight of my right foot
came a voice like a small bell singing
over and over one clear treble
syllable
I could feel it move
I could feel it ring in my foot in my skin
everywhere
in my ears in my hair
I could feel it in my tongue and in the hand
holding the cup
as long as I stood there it went on
without changing
when I moved the cup
still it went on
when I filled the cup
in the falling column
still it went on
when I drank it rang in my eyes
through the thunder curtain
when I filled the cup again
when I raised my foot
still it went on
and all the way down
from wet rock to wet rock
green branch to green branch
it came with me
until I stood
looking up and we drank
the light water
and when we went on we could
still hear the sound
as far as the next turn on the way over
4.2k
►☼◄
ओं मणिपद्मे हूं
I sing the Self – that mystic fable.
Lie to Truth as Cain to Abel.
Inner blight of fallen man,
enemy of Heaven’s master-plan:
your inner SELF! The guiding light
of Luciferian deception.
Mystic wisdom’s blinding sight;
purveyed as truth: obscene confection.
Listen well – please spare your soul
and sidestep this, the blackest hole.
Your self is sewage! Look within;
behold that putrid old abyss
then dive down deep into your sin
the fallen source of carnal bliss.
Inspire. Inhale in full the stench
from deep within the septic trench
unsounded depths, a cesspool’s source
depravity released in force.
Apart from mercy undeserved
on those whom Heaven has reserved.
Apart from Christ, your sordid purpose;
jewel whose bright refracted surface
glistens, beckoning to the feast
yet never can appease the beast.
I hail your lie, oh Inner Self
you silted continental shelf –
(or are you more a surge oceanic:
roiling undertow satanic)?
New Age myth, and Hindu idol
fallen god whose pull is tidal…
Brahman, Atman, Buddha, babble
lies repackaged for the rabble…
How deep do you intend to go
into our post – Edenic show?
How far the bottom? Whence the end?
Explore ! You’ll never comprehend.
You’ll find still worse – and yet descend.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 10:21 PM UTC
Ten years ago if you would've stopped me
on the street and said that I'd be stuck
at a dead end job, divorcing my husband of fifteen years,
and dividing three kids between two houses and twenty miles,
I would've spat in your face with laughter.
We never intend to have our life's plans crumble
before us, watching our spouses change into different
people and our children pick themselves apart
because all the words their parents say are fights
disguised in jabs and cracks at each other:
the time
they don't have,
the money
they don't have, the love
they
don't
have.
And in ten years, two people can fall apart the way
a river branches into separate streams, continuously flowing away
from their source, navigating bends and crossing the silted mud of life together
until they split up.
And everything we take for granted,
those necessities of life, are broken
down into their basic elements. Water is merely
hydrogen and oxygen. A marriage is but
two people
who can be divided,
simplified, classified, jarred up, studied,
separated.
*Two streams diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not see this coming.*
It just happens that way.
Life just happens
that way.
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 8:45 PM UTC
///
After born, a child subconsciously
engaged with the nature
she (nature)doesn't play well as usual,
all the time of his life
because someone somehow
plays the negative role with her
He who does not know the life,
and doesn't know how and why
she originated the waterfall,
And generated a vigorous stream
but when someone cuts in the face of a river,
and moving water whatever he liked
otherwise, his own purpose ( in a negative sense)
Day by day the river moved slowly
slowly and slowly,
water didn't carry,
the overdue sediments toward the sea
day by day,
the river grew inflated
and becoming a silted bed
One day the rain came as cats and dogs
slowly and slowly,
it has made the flood over the flood plain
and swift away lands and roads
then the water has seemed useless
The child grew older
now he feels consciously
about the worst work
that someone did with her
And he (older child) thinks,
what does he feel?
when someone cuts in the face of a river
///
@Musfiq us shaleheen
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC
Come home from eagle-throated distance,
The canoe-tip of the crescent moon scuds
Into the silted, mud-bed of heaven.
Her face-dream beside the pine trees
The mollusc of purpled wampum beads shining.
Bury my hands, ninidji, in the eagle’s nest,
Carry my feeling words to her on wings.
Let her mix roots, berries, clay
and the feather of my hands
To paint her face with my words and these trees.
Or let my hands ripple like flat-fish
Above the silt-bed of her slim stomach,
Held there in radiant scaled warmth.
Lappihanne, the rapid water of our river heart,
Like an arrow that glides from the bow,
My people where the tide ebbs and flows.
To us both, the dark, golden edge of woods whispers, kuwumaras…
And the water arrow will never land,
But carried in my eagle’s hands,
I say kuwumaras, my love, and pierce through all darkness
To the empty path made full with the ripples of all who have passed.
My nika, swan of the woods, let us dive into the dark, golden sea
Of forever in the hills.
Jul 19, 2019
Jul 19, 2019 at 12:15 PM UTC
Bartered tears with your love adorn
Twin streams from pure, spring founts born
Sappy pores gushing with showers of contrition on christening morn
Exchanged with vows that o'er time were weathered and torn
Briny waves of doubt crested; fealties' banks shorn
Now bottled memories silted with salty tears forlorn
Eroding tear ducts innundated then with passing time worn
Brackish vapor distilled with rotting dreams; with nauseous fumes borne
Corroded promises mired in a dry bed of scorn
Cloaked in callous foliage; spited with thistle and thorn
Meeting at the jaded fork; once vibrant streams solemnly mourn
Stagnant puddles awaiting reincarnation; at next season's fertile rains reborn
Aug 12, 2011
Aug 12, 2011 at 6:11 PM UTC
Dark draped the Ferry in confusion
on its final, fatal night.
Survivors spoke of a collision.
They knew that something wasn’t right.
A class of students on a trip
Bound for Jeju from Incheon
The Ferryman said to stay below
but he debarked and they’re all gone.
The ferry Sewol began to list
and water poured in through her ports.
Will anyone present forget the screams?
Souls in torment fill their thoughts.
Search and rescue soon became
a sad and grim recovery.
Their final moments were caught on cellphones
recovered from the silted sea.
The Ferryman has much to answer
About those students left behind
Perhaps in dreams he will be haunted
as young drowned faces flood his mind.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 12:57 PM UTC
Her memory is like the beauty of the silted Nile,
Of sacred blue lilies and heron
And skimming eyes of the crocodile.
Jun 8, 2024
Jun 8, 2024 at 10:40 PM UTC
fitted dots
to particles
fasting on
insanity
dreaming of
a brittle
sack battle
on beaches
silted rocks
on depth
paternal
hereditary
slush of my
guts and my
guttural
attempts
at
insular
perspective
these
thoughts
are alive
now.
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 6:26 PM UTC
Rain, thumping down,
Pressing grey prints,
Ocean, tears the sky,
Drowning with drinks
Of blue eye and salt
Taste, rude earthling
Song, takes too long.
Must I go on walking,
In gurgle paths spray,
Soaked, silted, ******
Drabs colours running
In days raging of rain?
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 2:16 PM UTC
///
Knowledge has grown with time
from our origin
and through evolution of nature
we have taken this information
and carry on
by generation to generation
with our gene
feelings are pinning you,
every second
every minute and every day,
gathered like clouds,
that has grown as rain in the horizon
Your brain has taken
millions of feelings,
making your mind,
taken those feelings,
bound all together magnetically
We discovered love, hate
pain, tears, laugh
even our words
all have made with emotion
accumulate of emotions are feelings
and millions of feelings make a mind
where there we make our love
where there we make our song
and there we make our life
But not all the seasons are same
the spring, rain and the winter
change over and being--
as we see through our life
neither always so rhythmic
nor always so romantic
neither too harmonic
nor too motioning
but all the time we carry emotions
that hurts our growing mind
changes its physical structure
and makes a new shape
as the ocean moves through the continents
and change its structure continuously--
We see tears flowing from her eyes,
you say pain,
that can also moves through vein
as the river runs through the vale
as like as water coming from a waterfall
moving like a stream
it has tasted salty,
those tears are to be torn
and turned to be stone
that has to be made the crystals,
crystalline through land and sea--
If those tears move too long and mad
it has formed layer
and has settled layer by layer
over an ocean bed
as the ripple marked,
silted and compact through time
grown as a dark shale,
black and compact
finally,we see our feelings has turned to the matter
///
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC
Stunned by the oyster beds
Arrow-smiths lost their pledge,
the silted whispers of the dying
sighed as peacefulness.
Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 6:43 PM UTC
silted clouds
upon thick breath air
signal
the cackle of a
green woodpecker
gentle pulse
of earthen bells
her
glass fingers
bestow heaven
unto
a rain flower
washed
anew
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 9:23 AM UTC
Find me as moon glides full
Crowning at the gateway of worlds
Eclipsed where creatures lurk.
I wade through dense thickets,
Unscathed and ethereal,
Self waxes and wanes
Until silted water
Runs clear.
Find me in a starlit riverbed,
Strewn on silent shores
Softened by darkness,
Aglow at first light where
Bright bodies camouflage
Constellations of thought and
Winking eyes.
Find me held, stocked on a shelf
In a catalogue of dreamscapes,
Snow globes, unknown worlds.
Find me in moments
Ripe with beauty,
A juicy morsel that feeds
Ancestors who linger and long for
Tastes of modern blood.
Find me traversing pages,
A neatly arranged
Expansion of a perennial
Universe within.
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 12:32 PM UTC
Rain, thumping down,
Pressing grey prints,
Ocean, tears the sky,
Drowning with drinks
Of blue eye and salt
Taste, rude earthling
Song, takes too long.
Must I go on walking,
In gurgle paths spray,
Soaked, silted, ******
Drabs colours running
In days raging of rain?
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 6:13 PM UTC
Rain, thumping down,
Pressing grey prints,
Ocean, tears the sky,
Drowning with drinks
Of blue eye and salt
Taste, rude earthling
Song, takes too long.
Must I go on walking,
In gurgle paths spray,
Soaked, silted, ******
Drabs colours running
In days raging of rain?
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 1:47 PM UTC
Wallowing inside the blackest sleep
I see images grow large and transform
into what feels like reality. Each night
my brain is transfixed on tragedy
and the loss of a loved one, as though
my soul is craving tears, lucid dreaming,
a haunted atmosphere.
These moments remind my body
that is alive, full of breath, a moving
corporeal skeleton. The wilderness
of my bones hear the dark silted thoughts.
Each wave comes with white spinning stars
as a granular moon sinks into my spine.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 10:05 PM UTC
You cast your name over
like silted reeds in the river,
on land
a thick covering of daub and wattle
sought your intention;
the wish to encase others in your space.
Such foolhardy fascination bears a cost,
like ubiquitous cochineal dye pools
Your dreams harbour barriers
as wide as your course strides permit,
the wilderness of banishment beckons
for as long as your fortitude remains
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 3:08 PM UTC
.
Rain, thumping down,
Pressing grey prints,
Ocean, tears the sky,
Drowning with drinks
Of blue eye and salt
Taste, rude earthling
Song, takes too long.
Must I go on walking,
In gurgle paths spray,
Soaked, silted, ******
Drabs colours running
In days raging of rain?
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 2:32 PM UTC
walking on a silted riverbed
the sun comes up
flowers push through
[whispering, 'go, go']
the rain falls down
in straight sheets of black
the colours,
[though broken],
shine through
[purity]
[innocence]
no harm or foul
no tears or pain
no hate or waste
the white noise rings
let's cut it all down
from the web in the sky
that tells us all how
our lives will all end
the damage will ensue
everything will fall
[everything but me & you]
Apr 4, 2012
Apr 4, 2012 at 7:13 PM UTC
First, you. The husk that splits
And out pours newness.
You and one thousand
Parallel: Pisces’ roe
Plucked from above and dropped
Into honeyed Nile to sip her moon-pale tears.
Your pallor Lunaire by sun’s ray unthieved
Inward glowing like tomorrow’s pearl.
Cry farewell to meandering cord then
Drop on silted earth’s cheek.
No words to wield. Now there is nothing
But those life-wrought hands that
Trace the candour of your flailing slouch.
Hands that
Tug on your round-eyed buoyancy
Hands that
Brand you with sour sorrows
Like footprints on the moon.
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 5:31 AM UTC
Rain, thumping down,
Pressing grey prints,
Ocean, tears the sky,
Drowning with drinks
Of blue eye and salt
Taste, rude earthling
Song, takes too long.
Must I go on walking,
In gurgle paths spray,
Soaked, silted, ******
Drabs colours running
In days raging of rain?
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 10:14 AM UTC
Rain, thumping down,
Pressing grey prints,
Ocean, tears the sky,
Drowning with drinks
Of blue eye and salt
Taste, rude earthling
Song, takes too long.
Must I go on walking,
In gurgle paths spray,
Soaked, silted, ******
Drabs colours running
In days raging of rain?
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 12:17 PM UTC
Snowy sentiments silted up
the soft sediment of my senses,
sifting silently my dreams
of sensitive seduction,
solely to send my thoughts to shores
with coloured sands and stunning steep sights
with sweeps of sea, that swell so high
the sun scintillates the surface spray
shimmering and shining,
spreading over the horizon,
as the soughing of the wind swings seagulls,
swooping serenely southwards,
past the slabbery seashells
and slap-happy waves that swish up the beach,
soporifically smudging seaweeds
against the sleeping surface
of the smooth glacial rocks,
spattering silky foam in spots
of saffron-tinted shapes, over their structures,
surreptitiously sinking into the saline cracks.
Margaret Ann Waddicor February 2013.
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 3:51 AM UTC
Rain, thumping down,
Pressing grey prints,
Ocean, tears the sky,
Drowning with drinks
Of blue eye and salt
Taste, rude earthling
Song, takes too long.
Must I go on walking,
In gurgle paths spray,
Soaked, silted, ******
Drabs colours running
In days raging of rain?
Aug 16, 2012
Aug 16, 2012 at 11:21 AM UTC