"wended" poems
’Tween hither and thither we wended our way
skipping, dancing through sand dunes, in seascape croquet.
While woven in waves watching dolphins at play
I first tasted her lips in the ocean’s wild spray.
Mystic moonbeams, suffusing clouds’ shimmering sails,
unleashed us and whisked us down sensuous trails,
soon evoking the trills of untamed nightingales
as our passions pervaded green valleys and dales.
Being spectres of splendour in wanton sashay
we mastered our meaning in love’s matinee –
the breezes, in passing, slowed down to survey
blazing bodies embraced in youth’s blooming bouquet.
With the wind as our wings, till the Never we flew,
two gypsies, on junkets through dusk’s residue
gently floating like pollen to everywhere new,
so eluding pearled teardrops that paint the past blue.
Yes, we gamboled and gambled, two waifs led astray,
with our shackles afire and anchors aweigh –
rising higher and higher, the sun lured our sleigh,
teasing time was our temptress, night’n day after day.
Having stars in our eyes and all time as our view,
we’ve drifted, like dreamers where sprites rendezvous
and feasted on laughter and sipped morning dew
while rambling forever as one made of two.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 4:07 AM UTC
Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.
The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.
And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch-hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feel question ‘Whither?’
Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?
1.9k
Our dog, Hannah and I wended our way
across the Moraine highway
that winds west toward the park.
The front range, rising to our right
and Lumpy Ridge to our left
were shrouded in the post-dawn mist.
A short walkway through speckled fields
of Asters, Mexican Hats and Gallardia
led us to the tall gray slat fence
that lines the path down the hill
to the Big Thompson River Walk.
Hannah and I took copious notes
each in our own way as we took in
the sounds and sights along the trail.
The morning lights danced over
rock-strewn rocks and riffles tumbling down
from the mountain rains and melting snows
and the sweet music of the river
assured us that tranquility exists even
amongst the jagged rocks of a troubled world.
Estes Park, August, 2016
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 11:02 AM UTC
Of a nefarious shadow that followed
Her eyes of blue serene were nonchalant
As she wended the verdant lanes.
.
The lanes she trod like an esplanade
Her ears could perceive no rant
Of a nefarious shadow that followed.
.
The phantom to her was an Adonis
And yet, oblivion to herself she did grant
As she wended the verdant lanes.
.
The undefined was lurking closer
Unacquainted while on her errant
Of a nefarious shadow that followed.
.
That aisle could pave way to her hearse
Unaware she; of the dangers nearing every instant
As she wended the verdant lanes.
.
That peaceful sienna her eyes were at
Oblivious of the slow augury chant
Of a nefarious shadow that followed
As she wended the verdant lanes.
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 10:30 AM UTC
It was more like alabaster, but I could only be sure
of one thing; it was an exquisite lesson in anatomy
cold ancient, pale Roman stone, the arm half gone
strongly curved, the rippling of muscle, hair and bones
a man held by pillar, marble like legs of smoothest stone
his eyes deep set that wended near, then waywardly away
the kind that strangely follow sometimes linger into the next day
broad faced, cheekbones perfectly amid the shadows
and I don't mind saying while on my museum trip
though he was a statue, I thought to kiss
those divinely sculpted lips.
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 8:32 PM UTC
Somewhere in the past
Where I know what my wants
Even things were little too fast
At least I know it will last.
Somewhere in the present
Got confused and changing the mindset
Things becoming not meant
And a lot of expectations did not meet.
Somewhere in the future
A blurred image of myself
Wended on the road of life
Perpend to all of "that's why".
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 4:41 AM UTC
The Other
"Panyacha barka tambya dya, Kaku",
From outside, a boy cried
For his father had toiled in field
And his throat completely dried.
Kaku shouted at him
"It's Chhota, not Barka" with her eyes-wide.
"Run away from here,
Stupid guy from countryside!"
"Panyacha Chhota tyamba dya!"
Then he preferred to say;
"It's Lota, not Tambya, Duffer!" Chachi harshly said.
From there too he wended his way.
He didn't have any courage
To ask anyone for water for his father
Whom he should reach out?
He was considered to be the other.
An Aunt stood in the corner
And was watching this drama all along
She offered him a glass of water
Since then the boy started singing her song.
S. Bharat
Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 7:59 AM UTC
remember when you we set out towards Arkle
started out
you were both young the sun shone and the air
and a little naive was sweet
you got your first house we made easy work of
reaching the summit
you made it your home the view poitively exploded
in scale
then children came along but once on the ridge the wind
picked up
life became a little more and walking became more
complexed complicated
but you held their hands we had to hold on to every rock
yet each decision carried concentration was paramount
a lot of weight
as you raised them with every decision mattered
heart and soul
ironically they weren't
children long eventually the wind subsided
they had established their
own identities and we wended our way back down
before long they had
their own lives to enjoy the pleasant walk back
to the road
then you look back on life's
long road and ask yourself? as we look back to the castellated
ridge so high and way back in
the distance
did we really raise a family? we ask, were we really up there?
It all seems so long ago now. It all seem so far away now.
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 3:18 AM UTC
He stood at the end of the pier that day
In hopes that they’d ask him on,
But Marilyn had just sailed away
With his elder brother, John.
He stood and scoured the horizon till
The sun went down in the west,
Then turned and wended his way back home
Though he’d get but little rest.
He tossed and turned for an hour or so
But he couldn’t get to sleep,
Then crept on out of his bed, he thought
He might take a little peep,
For out of his bedroom window there
The sea shone under the Moon,
The surface calm as a millpond as
He fell back into his room.
And his dreams that night were turbid dreams,
Obscured like a murky pond,
Where he couldn’t see the half of it
Viewed through the slough of despond,
Had he lost the only love he had,
And the brother he loved so well?
The morning dawned on a sudden storm,
And the sea, with a giant swell.
There wasn’t a sail on the sea that day,
There wasn’t a boat at all,
The yacht was found all smashed around
The end of the stone sea wall.
They said there wasn’t a soul aboard
Whoever there’d been was gone,
He didn’t know who he mourned the most,
His Marilyn, or his John.
John came to him in his sleep that night
With his eyes all brimming with tears,
‘I shouldn’t have taken her out, despite
I’d loved the woman for years.
But don’t blame her, it was only me,
For she made it plain that day,
She’d only come for a friendly sail,
And then she pushed me away.’
And Marilyn came to his dream as well
With the seaweed caught in her hair,
‘I shouldn’t have gone with your brother John,
Now I’m lost beyond despair.
He said you’d come, but he sailed away,
Said, ‘just a bit of fun,’
But now I weep in the ocean’s deep,
It’s the end for everyone.’
They found the bodies beyond the pier,
They were floating, hand in hand,
And when they got them ashore they found
That she wore John’s wedding band.
They never appeared in his dreams again
And he thought it just as well,
If ghosts could lie, he at least could cry
As he wished them both in hell.
David Lewis Paget
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 12:23 AM UTC
Many tears I've solemn cried
But in pain refuse to hide
Not for one who lied I lied
For I'm faithful; and have pride
In fathoms like ocean pure and wide
Decline the ticket for torment's ride
Though you will my hope to die
I can dream; I see the sky!
You sing a bastard's lullaby
And wonder why I'm mute and shy
Do you expect my joy enwrapt
For thee who my debasement clapped
Willed for me in torment trapped
Well try a bit harder perhaps!
For my mind's stronger than the tide
Have Heart and guts of queen inside
Fool takes me for a docile bride
To Hades, on a ghoullish ride
But to faith I abide
Commit to Heaven, not in hell's court tried
To righteousness I am allied
That light in me that never died
It was for Love the poets cried
Therein I free, my heart flied
I watched it soar with passion, pride
As I with angelic fate collide
Wended to freedom soared and glide
I am faithful, and have pride
You pray for bars behind my eyes
Forget that I can see the sky
Blessed by her enchanted shroud
My mind as lonely as a cloud
Blast by accusations loud
Is it me so vain and proud?
When vilest deeds on my mind crowd
And accusations roared and howled
But I am wed to brighter day
Unencumbered by insults you say
I do not see you on my way
With friends true I frolick, play
And soothe, assuage my sad dismay
For having been caged for the day
But to you I have never bowed
I have faith, and I am proud
Call me **** when I'm rare as earth
But Love will be found even in Love's dearth
For we her wisdom surely hath
Not embroiled in Devil's wrath
But you are faithless; also wrong
And did not account that I am strong
Casts words that render me as thing
But my mind hath meaning, and it sing
On golden wing aspiring
Grafting, never tiring
You try to rule me like Hong Kong
But your time's up; I've heard the gong
In my mind the love was strong
I am faithful; this my song
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 11:03 AM UTC