"sonant" poems
Just like Goddess Kali
I am feared when not
understood
my enemies know my loving passion are my kids
those demons slander me
fearing the mother
goddess in me
I gave life and inadvertedly heartbroken waived it
I give life
birthed my children
against all adds
motherhood apeaces me
injustice enrages my dance
I am Goddess Kali Karijin
~~
Precious daughters
Elena Rose Jeanette fear not
I save I protect I write
it's my frenzied dance
surounded by demons ferocious
you and me won many a
gruesome wars
to protect you three your
children alike my light
I have deamed
Remember Mother Kali
I love you miss you
more and more
and for you my life I lay
~~~.
The goddess mother
(excerpt)
~estranged from kids ~
~~~~~~
"The stars are blotted out,
The clouds are covering clouds,
It is darkness vibrant, sonant.
In the roaring, whirling wind
Are the souls of a million lunatics
Just loose from the prison-house,
Wrenching trees by the roots,
Sweeping all from the path...
The sea has joined the fray,
And swirls up mountain-waves,
To reach the pitchy sky.
The flash of lurid light
Reveals on every side
A thousand,
thousand shades
Of Death begrimed and black."
love & motherhood apeace me.
~~~~~~~
By: Karijinbba
inspired
by Hindi ink Durga-Kali
Shiva Lord's Wife
revised 06-5-19
~~~~
May 31, 2019
May 31, 2019 at 11:27 PM UTC
The night becomes you -
hair coiffed in fashion
illuminated eyes reveal attraction,
the scent of body oil
pervasive,
ambient music evolves
persuasive
savory rhetoric,
cabernet erodes my inhibition
no contrition, turn the ignition.
The night becomes you -
you wear it well
an amalgam,
ardor and insouciance -
redefining glamour,
ephemeral moments
dial down the sunlight,
I am slain - voice and accent
weave their spell;
black dust coat, white hat,
a pair of posh boots
they live to tell.
The night becomes you
rhyme scheme - lyrical poetry
sophisticated venue, table for two
ensconced, the
leather lounge,
similitude within difference;
undulation - cadences of
counterpoint -
poise and peril of duality
we inhabit the floor.
Postprandial, conversation extempore;
machinations of intoxicating discourse,
I could drink your words -
artistic milieu- beguiling imagery,
sonant susurrations
penetrate my being.
The night becomes you -
theoretical locutions
phrasing depth and humor,
undiluted amour, tensions resolve
frame by frame,
solidify the affair
and validate the rumor
subsumed in sequence, pulsating,
igniting the sapid interior flame
silver screen ending,
effusive reviews
two hearts collide and form one;
the cherub's arrow finds its aim.
©2008 & 2011 W.S. Warner
Sep 22, 2011
Sep 22, 2011 at 10:34 PM UTC
'A triangle on the mount of mercury
is certainly an auspicious sign'
Thumping percussion of a native beat
in my head, a gyrating hindsight
The evening streams down pouring
streaks of grey and mangled orange
Walking past a bicycle chained to railings
front wheel mangled into a rough square
Squaring a circle, huh? How did that happen?
two thumps and a sonant beat...and again...
I see you sipping latte by Nero.
Mangled, stream out of your eyes
many coloured triangles
rushing, wheeling at me.
Vibrant beat, gyrating bottoms.
The mercury is soaring. Ululations.
The night-witch has charmed the city in her cloak.
Stars, oh, I see mangled triangles out of her hat.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 11:52 PM UTC
Thoughts
splash echoing
like pebbles into a well.
Confusion.
Woven like a web all over.
Returning at the same spot,
beaten, broken into
a hundred parts.
Echoing.
Returning.
Plumes of obfuscation.
Rising, spreading everywhere.
Frustration.
This spiraling music in the head.
What is the way forward?
The rickshaw slices the expanse
speeding away from my grasp.
A query rises into the wilderness
of a hundred distractions.
The bell. The bell. Distant, sonant.
Door. Phone. Beep. Beep.
The firmament is camouflaged.
Am looking for a direction;
Confusion. Obfuscation. Frustration.
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 2:16 PM UTC
"Make love to me" she said.
"Use nothing but your words".
So I slid sentences down her chest
Scratched rhymes down her spine
And spilled soft, syllables into the curves of her neck.
I poured prose beneath her clothes
Left suspense in spaces and
Passion in sonant embraces.
I coloured her in cliches.
I kissed entire novels into her navel.
Her eyes gazed into mine as she began to unravel and unwind
As I slowly, unbuttoned, undressed
Indulged in and caressed
The fantasies in her mind.
Mesmerised, I memorised
Her from cover to cover.
Our bed the paper
Our hands the words
Our lips the verse.
Jul 16, 2020
Jul 16, 2020 at 6:41 AM UTC
Four flowers bloomed this morning at the horizon
and the world is drenched wet in tears the skies
wept for joy, maiden of the dawns, I saw you pluck
stars for your basket of prayers before the hours
and now you are gone, past the windswept edges.
I see your presence that has filled the peals of light
peering into my chamber this hour before deed.
Sombre noons when the koel cries for her beloved
I hear your footsteps jingle in the distant wood.
When the lamps of longing are lit at dusk, send
rains that soothe the valleys and the winds that
caress the river weeping for the sorrow of loss.
Deep in the nights, your silences more sonant
than the footfalls that waken the grazing deer.
I saw your smile behind the untended fires
in the heart of the cavern, but I did not hurry.
And now I hear myself echoing in the quarters.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 1:03 AM UTC
Those ripples
spreading hope among the waves
in torrential despair
foreboding
right behind where I toil away
with all her ships and sails
hidden in her receptacle soul
broken them rudders
we're sinking
as I hold out a palm
for some cheer
to gather. Macabre.
The Ocean, she came to me
and sat silent in the jar
not a whisper of a wave.
lives, palimpsest soul
stepwell storms
revenant, re-sonant
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 9:36 AM UTC
A street is a sight to behold!
At first glance, you may disagree.
For, it seems so cacophonous and befoul,
One may prefer to flee.
But once you beat ignorance,
Then you begin to see,
That the sight that just seemed awful!
Is now filling you with sheer glee.
The noise starts to fade,
And a certain music ascends,
And all the traffic starts dancing
To the beats of some indiscernible band!
And while you are being awestruck
By this momentous encounter,
If you pause, you’ll again, realize
that the grandeur of this show
Is greater than what you see.
For it is “The grand show of the street”
And every denizen of or visitor to
The city has been a part of it.
Every one of them, including you.
It starts in the morning,
With performances from
Chirpy children, sonant hawkers,
The devotees, the walkers
And the other morning birds.
Then slowly the vehicles enter
Adding their own tunes and rhythm.
The show reaches its first peak, just before noon
Then it steady descends but just does not goes numb.
Then as the evening approaches,
The music again rises,
The dance intensifies.
And the glamour of lights, adds
To the splendor of the show
And then slowly the music descends to null,
And the city takes a bow.
But the show does not end here,
For, it never does.
As the lights go dim
And the night departs,
The street is ready
For the next part.
One can be a critique,
and complain,
That street is a sad place,
Full of pain and disdain.
Or one may become an admirer
Of the everlasting spree
And enjoy this pure bliss,
That being a part of this show is.
Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 8:49 PM UTC
listen --
the sonance of this heart
is the canta of its soul
surd but for its Aum, its
Maker’s mark
for, not every sound comes
from without
nor does every Sound, sound
yet beats as a drum, felt
sonant yet surd
heard yet unheard
created yet uncreated
the paradox
of ticks, of tocks,
of the opening of a box
c. 2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 12:48 PM UTC
Worn dull, tired of lab grown
language stone carved
The way that can happen
Not just the obvious sonant brutality
acid bare knuckles
Other words, shaped for obscurity
slide
ar o u nd and a ro un d and
a r o u n d and
Skirting certain description
hiding behind
Below
like earth, unlike earth
unverified, unburied, not bare
Dec 6, 2020
Dec 6, 2020 at 8:10 PM UTC
number, tell and scribe
secret of universe vibe
everything ruled by mathematic
from esoteric to pragmatic
vibration of the sonant,
consonant, vowel, 'n sonerant,
the hidden song and current
of existence and occurrent
history guided by Hand
hidden in purpose grand
Thought laid out 'n planned
to play out in sea and land
written in every living cell
from heart tissue to fontanelle
from jubilant birth to distant knell
Face of Divine hides to dwell.
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 7:39 AM UTC