A vividly truthful portrayal of bitter revelations and wishful thinking for ignorance that is bliss! It happens in life!!! :sigh2:
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A vividly truthful portrayal of bitter revelations and wishful thinking for ignorance that is bliss! It happens in life!!! :sigh2:
There they stand
re-burying their own.
How it does manage
to crawl out?
Continuing to wretchedly dwell?
It knows no more than they.
Every time:
More torn
More forlorn
More mindful
More experienced
of the cesspool brimming Abyss.
But there is no use...
For it wanders along forgetting
what has passed
Loping towards the Now and Soon.
Until yet again it is reminded
of the bitter taste of Dirt
once again flung away by its
own Creators
Who will it to stay Broken.
the Unquiet settles greasily
upon the insidious nettle
it has brought forth.
Too painful to touch.
Too obtrusive to ignore.
It shakes its Swollen head
at Denial's Guilty Slip.
What has been unleashed
must be set Free.
The Sacrificed must suffer
Not only the Crime
but as well
the
Shameful
Rumours
that follow
Awaiting their
Entry into
Truth.
In the painful pangs of a fit of remorse and helplessness?!
What makes you think that I would defy?
I have become the epitome of Nature's whim...
I who have ceased to question.
I the pawn
of rules and regulations
of guidelines and memorandums
of glass ceilings and rock bottoms.
What makes you think that I would defy?
All it takes is your Disdain
of what I claim is True
through and through.
Your wall of Distrust
I will scale
only because it gives
me the joy of Defiance.
Even if all the while
Inching Upwards
The Peril that lies
on the other side
is no whispered Secret.
And if in the course
of reaching the landing's
treacherous ledge...
I were to slip and fall.
I would be so Jubilant
in capturing the chance
to
Disobey
you.
PP Maam and Thamizh,Quote:
Originally Posted by pavalamani pragasam
Your concern is more than touching :)
Just a transfer of past writings...
but yes Sorrow can be Strong-worded :)
One doesn't have to go through the poignant emotions, one's imagining oneself going through them is enough for effective poetry! :)
What do I earn
with each journey?
A closeness never recaptured?
The teetering tiptoes that
perliously test the depth
of yesteryears
pushing them
tenderly
to recall
how more
entrancing
the fire is
than the regret-ridden burn.
And surely here it follows
Scorch on! In pain may I
know better of what is
real and what wants
to be reckoned.
What distance has life not
twisted and tested
that i have not met
with the decency
to seek the
fellow condemned
who rather peer
into facade
and deny a
dip into a well known
thirst
Be reborn!
Do not deny
the disillusions
i have allowed to
remain undefeated.
The trouble with
wistfulness is
it likes to sit and heavily
sigh its unreal whispers
waved away
with ungracious decorum
it breathes on
i plead of you
put away your
daunting reality for all the
time that i will never share
be you,
for me.
let me,
be me.
let we
be we
for we.
Querida :thumbsup:
// LTNS :roll: //
Thank you but what does LTNS stand for?Quote:
Originally Posted by Sarna
nothing more
whets an idle
appetite
than a dose
of blatant truth
remember how
it sat upon your tongue
feverishly wanting
its presence
to rake
the very
palate
it rested
upon
there was nothing
else to do
but swallow
to give thought
to its sour aftertaste
may it burn
and cleanse
the icy-sweet
lies that
have blinded
your heart
Long Time No See :?Quote:
Originally Posted by Querida
Yes that is true...let us say circumstances are providing ample material to make up absences.Quote:
Originally Posted by Sarna
merely yesterday
you vowed that you
knew better:
what has evening done to you?
what has morning's light taught you?
what tendril bridges
has inclusion wrought
that singe-ful conclusions cannot
cinder?
let evening not indulge your nostalgia again
for the night is wonderlusting pitiful
and
dreams are whirling dervishes
that too soon dissipate.
poetic splashes!!!
What do I earn
with each journey?*
A closeness never
recaptured
A faze of
never-happenedness
but who remembers
and who still wishes
to relive?
The fire is more
entrancing
than the burn.
*all written on journey from home to oxford to manchester to athens to santorini to crete to home
Counting down
the stations
what
cold
familiarity
lies just ahead...
stone walls and bricks
tarmac, rails and blurs of bright branded trains
cows, sheep, horses, goats
their fellows caught in a yellow repetitious graze
along a lazy scene
too mellow to change
unknowing of my
awkwardness
what distance has life given us that I have not happily met?
through candor...through obligation
through the sliver of silvering hope of hanging on
who am I deceiving...when I begin once again?
I have become freed
in the face of another
my demeanor entrenched
has defeated the words
that tend to come with the
RAW EMOTIONS of RETALIATION
I have rather saved that for the tears.
cloyful ploys
and
mournful toys
delusions met
and
illusions set
a flame within
a blame without
pondering fate
wandering sedate
How to reach a wall?
One built of blood and flesh
but denies it has a heart.
A wall that used to
surround its inhabitants
with fondness.
A wall that illuminated
a happiness akin to
enlightened spirits.
And now though some lustre
has been sloughed off
and thought the wounds
left have been slow to seal
there still lies...somewhere?
is there time enough?
is there heart enough?
Moving on...
leaving my why nots
submerging on the felt cover
of the sea
leaving my teary trails of how comes
upon the rocky edges
My why mes simmering on the ancient ruins
of this weary-worn world.
If friendships can be taut
how can pairing be elastic?
Is there only so much you take
of another?
How is it possible to
continue until ends are met?
The littlings nettle
the perfunctorily unsettles
how to sustain a resistive armour
a resilient mettle?
One that will not harden
but softens with grace
each time a bright
moment persists
in shining through?
How does he stand still
with his horses long run
ripped of his reins
as they have seethed forward
frothing at the mouth
what hand did they not heed
what stone have they thundered past
leaving dust...that primordial dust
that gathers between his coppery green
eyes that stare off into nothing
while his feet stay molded
exquisitely waiting
for the nerves within them
to pounce
and let him flee
what stone
has set him
frozen
http://www.odysseyadventures.ca/arti...charioteer.jpg
without being told
there awaits
a curiosity
sought
and often
beguilingly bought
in the very
palm of your
hand
held tremblingly
of bridges and roads
and paths engraved
of grooved hills and narrowly lined valleys
of promises and preening predictions
and lengths that improve longevity
but what use of this fortune without the digits
to grasp it?
adaa da what a poem :P
:DQuote:
Originally Posted by Querida
Believe me we relay the roads and uplift the bridges and valleys, just that we dont know it.
Deep meqning in beautiful imagery!
let us worry
what has been
burrowed in a furrow
for time has given
us much to waste
and needless things
to want.
there is much anger
to have for all the efforts to grasp
what will run
through our fingers
sinking in dearth.
searching for a grain of truth
in an oasis we cannot see.
our cares call,
our labours hinder,
our hesitations stunt,
our hearts sink,
and limbs fail.
what soul remains then for the
heaven that we seek?
who knows
what failure remains
unfurled?
what happiness
will miss the
chance of alluding us?
i remember
the oft forgotten reminders
that i command my mind to recollect
when i am in search of another lost memory
it is then that a familiar tune strains through
moving my lips in murmurs of its fleeting words
it is then a number appears demanding its purpose
as it swirls around, disengaging itself from done deeds
it is then a recommendation sounds its importance and sets off to announce its intentions to the marked advisee
and it is then a scene deeply buried rattles its beleaguered head slinking off (with your regret in tow) to that self-pitying little pit of re-runs....fuzzily shaping faces that i guiltily reconstruct...
repressions are the very worst.
and that is when i hastily recount the number of times that i ask my scatterbrain to organize its distractive agenda
and it of course promptly notes that down
and trounces off to interact with another digression.
it will only get better
more happiness, more peace, more bliss
more better
you can refuse anytime you want
now, later, tomorrow,
did you not refuse yesterday?
then refuse next week
you deserve it
for sure you do
i know you do
see how hard you are working
see how much you have changed
for the better
just once then
last time
the very last time
i will not ask again
ever
this is the last time
ever
that i am going to ask
you except
of course unless you deserve
to again try
you know as a reward
you should really appreciate yourself
it feels good
of course
what is there to be worried about
what consequence
what isn't without consequence
one life to live
one addiction to relive
find relief now
find reprieve another day
to envy the sorrows
that have comforts
to question the cares
of those who have
ones to save them
to search for a
smaller piece
of a gauzy dream
all glimmering with hope
one where joy
is still buoyant
and ignorant
of the troubles
that follow
to deny that a whimper
was heard where a
roar was throughly expected
to seek the words
that were heard in the heart
but were left unsaid
the air still silent
and stuck within
the breath
wishing to remain
inside
and end what all
it had started
and to forget what
hope there ever
was of returning
to that little
sad pit of denial
Beautiful Q! Too beautiful that any word spoken I think would disturb the depth, thick silence, the mourning which is better left undisturbed like a clear pool.
I can see the hits, the clicks and the reading and....the silence which has garlanded ur poetries.
Q,
You made me attempt a poetry.Quote:
Too beautiful that any word spoken I think would disturb the depth, thick silence, the mourning which is better left undisturbed like a clear pool.
Some works / feelings / poetries dont deserve words..they are too precious to be conveyed thro words. I attempted a poetry on the same theme.
Continue writing Q :bow:
Dearest Shakthi, often it is the responses from hubbers that gives me the motivation to keep writing. I feel that silence at times means that my writings have become a stuck record that has hit a rut and still tries to keep on spinning. So you can very much imagine what pleasure it is to read your comments :notworthy: :ty:Quote:
Originally Posted by Shakthiprabha
I have made you do no such thing...it is your talent that has brought such a piece of poetry to express feelings that often we struggle to express...
I can only say that a pool undisturbed will never know its own potential for depth...thank you for wishing at this well :P
unfolding flower
with what hope
will you be born with?
with what dreams
will you be enthralled with?
with what desires
will you be allured with?
with what sorrows
will you be shrouded with?
where will you face
to seek the sunlight?
where will you turn
to weep with the rain?
where will your seedlings
fly?
where will your petals
fall?
Very interesting questions on behalf of flower!!!
keep your fingers crossed
your heart open
your vision willing
your dreams real
keep your smile secret
your heart willing
your vision sure
your dreams strong
keep your eyes dry
your heart strong
your vision unblurred
your dreams from fleeting
keep your head up
your heart patched up
your vision realistic
your dreams as dreams