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Poets, Poems n Poetry
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Why sit and wait in my lonely shellset among the roses
amidst the sun
sparking its rays of light on me
in the deep, deep fields?
Should I wait for my moon to glow
as I peep my round eyes
bursting with fervour
yet white from darkness
as the rainbow of light warms my skin?
How many travels should I make within my shell
curled up for eternity>
It seems as lonely as the night
as single as the day
as whirlwind grasps
taking me through musical motions
as rough as its eye
back to my gentle spot
set among the roses.
Should there be many more days left
as I wait,
the weeks to appear
then months, only enormous years now to carry my life
in one lonely shell,
sailing through that vacuum of space
petals holding me?
Will my tears ever fall
dried from patience
emotions abundant
withheld in one lonely heart
fed by thoughts
dreams, love beseeching
echoing among the mountains
shaking my lonely shell
yet it leaves,
for my heart to bleed
once more?
Would love ever be my tether
while I dream endlessly,
as I begin to travel to a new home
still sealed in my lonely shell?
Excerpt from 'Flames of a Rose'
Vivin wrote: "Vismay wrote: "Oh my hands quiver as I type,Something quite polemical, am I about to write?
Uncertain, unsure, nervous and anxious,
Should I not stop before I commit this travesty, this horrend..."
Thanks Vivin!!!!!!! At least one guy appreciated it!
Lorna wrote: "Why sit and wait in my lonely shellset among the roses
amidst the sun
sparking its rays of light on me
in the deep, deep fields?
Should I wait for my moon to glow
as I peep my round eyes
bursting..."
Brilliant :)
Book review of 'The Golden Gate' by Vikram Seth in verse.........Insuperable the task seemed, at library,
Should I give a shot to this masterpiece literary?
To linguistic excellence, I lay no claim,
Should I read Vikram Seth, a writer basking in worldly fame?
Choice, why do you inundate a man with your potpourri-
‘Carrie’, ‘The Golden Gate’ or ‘The Great Train Robbery’?
To quote an adage, too much sugar spoils the broth,
Indecisive, sullen and morose, your variety makes a man with frustration, froth.
Yes, I eventually and apprehensively did pick up ‘The Golden Gate’,
Oh boy was it difficult! Yet it kindled a spark, an ever-expanding conflagration, refusing to abate,
A spark to wax lyrical while I write,
And spew out words – funny, serious or simply laced with the bite.
Oh dear reader, how upon your patience I transgress!
I was supposed to write a review, and now I digress!
My rhymes and rambles won’t do the justice,
To the consummate genius Mr. Seth is in his trade, his practice.
Oh! His rhymes entice, he is that Pied-piper,
Who lures us along the pages, his tune getting richer and riper.
The plot revolves around an ambitious man named John,
Climbing the rungs of success, yet who is all alone.
Out crops his former flame called Jan the Sculptor,
Who indulges in matchmaking, playing Cupid, that wily plotter.
In the process John finds the love of his life,
Called Elizabeth Dorati, whom he thinks suitable to be his wife.
What’s a story without a triangle?
Add Ed, Phil – this makes a golden quadrilateral.
In the end of course, the cats decide,
Who is right, wrong, as over the gullible humans, they regally preside.
How well Mr. Seth has juxtaposed the opinions galore,
Anti-Nuke, Pro-Gay or vice-versa, he has indeed brought out the clash to the fore.
A tinge of sadness pricks my mind,
In the end, all alone, John I find.
Maybe he called, who knows, you ask me not to speculate,
You are straight to the point, reader- ‘How do I, this book, rate?!’
In the beginning, Mr. Seth acknowledges the readers, who picked this book at their own volition,
He says – ‘And, fourth, to you, who did not question
The crude credentials of this verse
But backed your brashness with your purse.’
I humbly reply to his kindness,
‘Unfortunately Sir, I borrowed this book from the library; less pocket money. Oh Wretchedness!
If your verse is crude, my mind’s much less refined,
A whopper of a book, 5 stars, and your dazzling verse blinds
My eyes, yet my mind sees crystal clear,
A less-traversed path, where it’s difficult, my momentum, to steer.
Inspired by you: I now indulge in my own verse,
Next time, I read you, I will definitely back my brashness with my purse.’
Love In the ParkClosed hands we walk in the park
raindrops falling down
one by one
the pigeons fly off
in their flock
flowers in their glory surround.
The silence of our touch, sweet hushed tones
endearing thoughts
kisses and hugs
as we walk through this quiet place so cool
so blue
we, in love.
Our palms never untwined
sweet strong love in this gardenious cove
more wet kisses, all over my face
two hearts endearing, in one place.
Momentary kisses, so wet and many
this garden of love in its magnetic beauty
for love, a beautiful charm.
What shall I doThe wondrous joys of Springtime
as I watch the flowers bloom
tiny wild flowers dancing with the wind
I lean against the windowsill, and I sigh
what shall I do, in this quiet time?
As peaceful as heaven
the children are off to play
the gentle tune of the music
as the smell of baked chicken transcends the home
what shall I do, in this quiet time?
The cushioned chair is welcoming
and I lie with my eagerness
the telly is turned off;I decide to read a book
it is this solitude that I need
what shall I do, in this quiet time?
Copyright@ Lorna Knox ( nee Ramsamugh )
Lorna wrote: "What shall I doThe wondrous joys of Springtime
as I watch the flowers bloom
tiny wild flowers dancing with the wind
I lean against the windowsill, and I sigh
what shall I do, in this quiet time?
..."
wow Lorna, expressing your longings for the time of your own with nature and your sourroundings...good one!
Augusti wrote: "To a new dawn I saw a nightmare, i could not sleep,
It happens always, I wanted to weep,
Instead, I got up and looked outside,
And what I saw was a sight not to leave
The earth was moist with e..."
good one Augusti!
I wish to hold your hand
I wish to bind you in my life
The way that can never be undone
So that we'll never be apart
Always in the other one's heart
I wish to have you beside me
To look at these stars, to count them
Because our friendship and love
Is measured by stars
These twinkles that are so precious
So loyal to the dark night that seeks o be rekindled
In the brightest of ways
I need you by me
Each day, each second of the day
Every moment, every breathe
As I wish this, the stars look upon us
Though we are miles away, time away
I still love you, my dear friend.
Because You are
My Starshine
When the night takes charge
And the moon takes stage
I see the twinkling wonders
Staring at me wide eyed
The blink, yes; they twinkle
In a million little ways
That makes me wonder, makes me sway
But in that moonlight
I feel you more dear
You are my starshine
<3
✮ Ї'м Йоt Шєїґd, Ї'м Gїftєd ღ ~ Йцмєу ☮ wrote: "I wish to hold your handI wish to bind you in my life
The way that can never be undone
So that we'll never be apart
Always in the other one's heart
I wish to have you beside me
To look at these s..."
good, thoughtful, touchy and imaginative Numey!
Thank you! :DIt's for my best friend <3
Sathya wrote: "Lorna wrote: "What shall I doThe wondrous joys of Springtime
as I watch the flowers bloom
tiny wild flowers dancing with the wind
I lean against the windowsill, and I sigh
what shall I do, in thi..."
Holding hands we walkin whispers as we talk
of our own true love.
We smell each flower
while under the heavenly sun
they glower in their scented perfumes.
This nature is real
as the butterflies and bees touch
and feel for sweeter honies.
Holding hands we kiss
in love as we miss
of our own true love.
Lorna wrote: "Holding hands we walkin whispers as we talk
of our own true love.
We smell each flower
while under the heavenly sun
they glower in their scented perfumes.
This nature is real
as the butterflies ..."
good expressions Lorna..!
Home sweet home....feels good to be back!A woman....
Quaint n quiet....angry and fierce...
in the tempest of existence,
an anchor...a haven...
mature yet young....
riddled with worries yet carefree...
a million shades of love
forever interwoven
with hues of ur identity...
the mother and the child,
the lover and the beloved...
the daughter, the sister, the friend...
lost and yet enlightened..
frightened but sure too...
looking for a shoulder
and providing a helping hand...
a study in itself...
unique and enticing,
a whole world of adjectives,
I can spend a lifetime describing...
Thanks for sharing such a beautiful poem and also for bringing about this thread :) THE WOMAN WHO WROTE
TOO MUCH- Kay Ryan
I have written
over the doors
of the various
houses and stores
where friends
and supplies were.
Now I can’t
locate them anymore
and must shout
general appeals
in the street.
It is a miracle
to me now—
when a piece
of the structure unseals
and there is a dear one,
coming out,
with something
for me to eat.
@Arushi Well...you're welcome :)Great poem btw!!
AN ABOMINATIONThe stifling heat of the sun burns me,
If only I could peel off my skin...
Crawl away from the flesh within...
the endearing mass of nothingness
that I call 'me'
the void, the darkness, the hollow in my chest,
which keeps all joys, all pain, all anger at bay,
for I feel nothing, I care nil
I see my wrong? Oh! I follow still.
motionless in the blur of time
no temperament, out of tune,out of rhyme.
Her eyes, so moist, so dark and covered in mist
my words - abomination, hurtful, naive : the gist
Hot with blisters, I beg for freedom
I look around, the walls are a closing mess
Choking me, breathless, senseless, powerless
Who am I? I have no me, no self, nothing!
Like a tail, a shadow, is that chain on my leg
Let me breathe, live, love, laugh - I beg
She spies, the scoundrel, that bitch - my master
For I am a wrong, the black sheep, the disaster!
But 'tis not right to call her so
For she is my maker from ages ago
A past I loathe, abhor, detest
But better not to be, than to bring this abreast!
So erase me : a sinner, a slut of time
Obliterate my very soul, my essence with soot and grime
Let me perish into oblivion, excavated from every memory and tear
Let me fade; and with me, my darkness and fear
Shall no eye cry for me, no face remember mine
Drunk into madness by bittersweet wine,
of joy, of sorrow, of the unholy deeds
of the past, with no recollection, for the past misleads.
Burn me, ye Sun; burn away my soul,
and burn away Her sin to make me pure and whole.
Quite imaginative Meenakshi ..good one!
Sathya wrote: "Quite imaginative Meenakshi ..good one!"Thank you! :)
Indian Readers
Books mentioned in this topic
Flames Of A Rose (other topics)Flames Of A Rose (other topics)
I saw a nightmare, i could not sleep,
It happens always, I wanted to weep,
Instead, I got up and looked outside,
And what I saw was a sight not to leave
The earth was moist with early dew,
Stars were there, still very few,
Birds were singing morning song,
Flying high in sky along,
Spreading their wing to welcome dawn,
Feeling warm, I stand in the midst of all,
Thinking, where does in this, I belong?
Thus, comes the voice from deep within,
" you were among them, all along "
I looked up at sky and stretched my arms,
Embracing life with all my warmth.
The sun was starting to get up soon,
Off you go, saying to moon,
Lovely moon smiled with a yawn,
Greeting, singing " a day is born"
Then moon was off, to go to hide, and,
sun was peeking like a kid from mother's side,
Now Sun was shining crimson red,
Spreading light with silky thread,
Isn't a beautiful, the world we live,
The beauty of life, nature always give,
Every morning with me , will it stay,
Or will it slip, like time, that passes away,
Seeing this beauty, am no more afraid,
All my nightmares are starting to fade.