workshop
Remember Me…
When the air is soft
When the forest breathes
When the water sounds
When the sun is ripe
I will be your friend
Remember me…
Where the sands sigh
Where the snow deepens
Where the clouds weep
Where noise is constant
I will be your refuge
Remember me…
When all is turmoil
When peace is illusive
When rest is over the horizon
When the day is broken shards
I will be your comfort
For what reason should I put my mouth
Through the contortions you wish me to?
What benefit do I gain from all that wasted energy?
Why should I move my hands the way you want me to
What pleasure do I gain from all that in out manipulation?
I have jobs to do which make my environment clean as new
I have to write poems , earn my living for the next ten years
dance , sing and exercise so I can leave you
speak many languages, comment on current affairs
wash away the dirt off the day ,the heat of the night and morning dew
supine suppositions
descend
tender snowflakes
meaningful beauty in the cold
the day rolls slow
the pain
the ache
hurting like a wind
easing through the
wounds
A sun struggles to warm
the ice upon my heart
but its locked
and the key is somewhere
in the dark
most don't last in the walk of time
be it anything
poetry or rhyme
most don't care
beyond a single tissue
most take it fast ere it becomes an issue
Only those who endeavour most do last
never be too quick to end up fast…
take your time
prepare the audience of your kind
be it sexy poetry
or just a party
never be hasty
last as long as you can do
life's sojourn is far better
than reaching the destination
I wish you knew..
The fairy king sits on his rock-hewn throne
adorned with silver, gold and jeweled stone.
His heart is bleak; in court the minstrels moan.
He broods in silence and he weeps alone.
His blossom wings he spreads to tower high,
its feathers showered by the silver sky.
All love is gone, a gloomful dawn draws nigh
as lies his queen upon her funeral pyre.
The day is darkened, earth in earnest quakes.
The requiem rite the fairy lords partake
concludes. At last the king will cross the lake:
I wonder if the foundation
For your religion
Is so baseless.
Theology exams,yeah
Nobody aced it.
We cheated
But these people passed us.
Yet they have the guts
To still call themselves pastors??
Undergraduate,postgraduate
Right to the Masters.
I wonder if it is right
To start my pilgrimage
Right from Damascus?
For the sin is so ugly
I have to mask it.
Buried deep within
In righteousness' casket.
Once life has its run
Mr. Luck and Logic meet
They challenge and bet
on who'd win, who'd retreat.
They set out once a journey .
They rode a shabby car.
It only took them half the way
then declined to go too far.
If we spend here this night(they thought)
and get some place to sleep.
It's getting a way dark here,
and dimness'll shortly creep.[/i]
the shift wind light
beneath the pool
the crescent task
of hues long stilled
the drywood floor
mellow with age
the trunks and trinkets
touched with age
shine moonlight enter
the world of dreams
alight alive the archives
center
hinge rove eccentricites
beneath the coil fabric
wire..the bakelite switch
and clear sixty watt bulb
The man, he strives for
Greater depths
The demon sighs, and
Counts his steps
The mortal coil, slips
From debt and wine
The demon laughs-
And cracks his spine
His eye awakes
Within eternal sleep
The demon dozes
On dirty sheets
Step up to the hit parade
keep both eyes on the ball,
every rat must join the race
that's why, they start to crawl.
Born under signs both good, and bad
ugly's in the eyes,
ignore those moving curtains
you'll spoil your surprise!
Avoid falling into a well
don't be silly, or you'll get hurt!
Ol' Lassie cannot save you
from the confinement of the dirt.
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