"tyndall" poems
Flashing lights and days bright couldn’t be better with you at my side.
I didn’t need anything in rush, but you broke my heart in a hush.
Thought I could never be well again,
when I looked out of the window to take a glimpse at the rain,
Realised that all my feelings had gone in vain.
Was it all a joke?
How could I be left broke?
Couldn’t find any answers,
Lost myself in the late-late hours.
While trying to find my destiny,
Found someone who made me feel love’s eternity.
Suddenly a glittering light flashed from the dark,
It was like a tyndall effect on my heart.
Saw a knight so tall and bright,
Gave me a hand and asked if I’d be his bride?
Shook my head in agreement and went on a long trail.
His presence left me mesmerised,
Cause for I couldn’t see what I had left behind.
All the black memories got washed out,
With the new sounds of love profound.
It was like an ailing,
There couldn’t be any love with such a Great Ending!
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 10:25 AM UTC
This mind is a jam,
Is a honey, is a cough syrup.
A motley of chaos, in a container.
This old brain from my skin,
Soaked in pool of chlorine,
Or an intestine. This mother of me
Comes from the grandmother.
This is the girdle of Venus;
This simulacrum, this effigy.
The tyndall effect exhibited
Spread, spread, spreads
A margarine of coal, inedible;
It spat the meal it created!
But a mind is a cog of a machine.
Two is a watch; three is a clock;
Hundred is a Big Ben.
How can i forget this;
This is self-aggrandizement!
This seeming small, seeming
Incapable; belching cyclone,
Tending Peloponnesian war.
The might and shyness, the complex
Flung disguised for a dove, that
Pool of roses refracted in blood
This frantic trade of dagger
In forms of rhymes and letters -
This is it. This is mind!
Feb 26, 2023
Feb 26, 2023 at 12:43 AM UTC
She was Saturn,
The epitome of unique;
He was Jupiter,
The beast to her ethereal beauty.
She was Saturn,
Clothed in mystique;
He was Jupiter,
Clothed in shock and cruelty.
R. A. Tyndall
May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 1:39 PM UTC
tyndall, my dear tyndall in the morning
why don't you tell me
how blurriness is the majesty
here
when i put my glasses on
and sip the liquid i cannot tell what it is
it becomes foggy
why don't you tell me
how i wish i were a forest fairy
that misty eyes are not what the lake tells
that it is what the lake shows
behind your clothes
there is no skin
you have no flesh
crushed skeleton
yellow as pollen
they named you tyndall with a reason
why don't you tell me
how all of these time i prayed to ra
diana kept giggling and put all my cries
under the label 'noises'
i thought i could trust her
my mother once said so
that she was my other
why don't you tell me
how the striped pants on the runways
are now out of date
how flower prints on the blowing skirts
of ladies who promise you
to gather you to their breast
do not wither
why don't you tell me
i do not have to water
them
don't you see the flow
of liquid i cannot tell what it is
keeps running and running out
i will soon be dry
is it a cactus i see -- i can't even
there's none
you don't have to tell me
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 5:54 AM UTC
In her hair, she wears
The beauty of Polaris;
Luminous orbs adorn
Her celestial body.
A veil of nebulae on her face,
Fails to conceal her eyes;
Alive with catastrophic bursts;
Reminiscent of supernovae.
Alnilam, a glorious embellishment
Graces her neck;
Sun-like Centauri on her arm,
And Elysian complement
To her dress of quintessence and energy.
R. A. Tyndall
May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 12:09 PM UTC