The stream (all workshops)
Autumn rain at the midnight hour,
I wait for you,
Ghosts of the past pleading for me to leave,
But I am shackled by the thought of you,
The world begrudge,
The last train awaits,
I wait,
But the chains of society have become too heavy for you,
So a visit from sacrifice,
That gifted you fear,
Has caused you to forget my name,
So I journey towards my fate,
Alone and nameless,
My heart betrayed.
Life is like a flowing river
at times the flow is like Brahmaputra
oceanic in fervor.
most of the times it's silent soft and slow
as is the river Nile...appears still
all rivers must flow towards the ocean
a desired vision
towards newer association
mother and daughter
in pose together
gives a loving spectrum...
love you as the rising sun
reaching its zenith
then after all deeds
sun promises to arise
after sunset
Now’s the time for firm resolve
Around a tender heart
A former life asunder goes
Pulled and ripped apart
When the loathing loses clout
Self returns with time
The glow of former comfort zones
Now darkens and confines
Surrender to quintessence now
Watch the fortune come
Made whole, the parts congruent
Are greater than the sum
Is it a burden
to bear the souls of others?
To eat them for breakfast,
when my coffee’s gone cold?
To call to one of many
when the I of me is brooding?
Is it not enough
to watch them grow?
Must they write me away
with feathered ink,
to be freed of my
succinct greed?
Have I burdened them
with my hunger
to be heard
and not seen?
They never had to lie before
not to each other, not out loud
One would pull the spoons from the kitchen drawer
set them to the right of the deep ceramic bowls
the other would stir the soup - tomato or potato
or a bit of stew, then ladle it into the bowls as
the feet of the chairs scraped the old wooden floor
Bad news always comes uninvited
like a chill through the screen door
peering in, knowing you're home
hovering over your supper even as you
say Grace and Amen
FREE INSPIRATION
Pushing through the thick cobweb of words
Brushing across my face, eager to be chosen
Yet feelings and emotions are the blood supply
Raw stuff, strongly welling up from deep inside
Not this antimacassar of subtle intellectual lace
If words don’t come through in the normal flow
Then all that left brain penning is such artifice
POET'S SILENCE
Whenever a poet maintains calm and serenity,
he's deeply, creatively connecting a higher realm,
so, do not cause interruption to rip off his course,
'cause his connectivity is gained through his mind.
Any moment of disruption against his creation,
he would be disgruntled and lose his motion and,
his idea of connection might be disabled and lost!
'cause a writer is a seeker of solemn moment.
TRUTH
Water deeply to
roots effortlessly in
equanimity with earth united
the graces of truth
Similar is with the
love and heart's desire
***
But in the cosmic game
the absurdity of the times
sowing thickens
worn small
erroneous lives
in a temporary
drunkenness chimera
For power, for spoils
***
The truth liberated
from Circle of illusion
spreads soul streets
Beauty sharp chisel
ΑΛΗΘΕΙΑ
Το νερό βαθιά στις
ρίζες αβίαστα στην
I long to you belong
but it seems you don't want to belong
Married to speed at 16
now when one is oldie
you can only scream
Am I in my dream thinking
at the train speed at 19
Come forget those long since gone times
nothing for ever does for long chime
even gold leaves of autumn die
why then about ourselves lie
come by...
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