desire mightier
life, Nature, Obituary, poetry

The Dying River

I stole a kiss from the crimson Sun,

an embrace from the sickly tree,

a smile from the fading flower,

humility from the burdened Earth.

A spoon-full of water from that dying,

river, its gentle waters relaxing one last

time and taking a deepest sigh!

I leaned in my insatiable greed knowing

that it’s spirit just departed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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man
Inspiration, life, poetry, Uncategorized

I Am A Sucker!

Yes life hurls stones and pebbles

fate bombards proxies, follies

phonies but hold on….

I am a sucker for one more!

I devour failure like a hungry

homeless for I’ve nothing to eat

so I gulp every failure down my

parched throat till the-bitter liquid

of failure syncs-with the juices in

my emaciated stomach…

Oh! It churns, it widens but I ask

for more, I ask for more! I am a

sucker for all the losings humans

are capable of! I tasted sweet

success this morning when I took

that hard stone on my heart,

laughed at one more lie, swallowed

one more bitter pill, devoured

one more failure down my throat!

I am a sucker!

Great Land
History, Inspiration, Legend, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry

The Great Land

Standing in the land of the great Apaches

Midst blooming wild poppies

and the mammoth elephant grasses,

thinking of the dream that once Martin Luther had.

May be the days of  chivalric Camelot are over,

as I heaved reclining on the grand arm chair;

vicious winds from the North gushed 

echoing footsteps of a massive feet

opening a narrow pass for the

grim shadow of Lincoln to flicker by,

leaving behind trails of the Fallen Soldiers

on the path once trodden by the

fierce Indian Tribes.

Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Love, Nature, poetry

A Glance

 

A glance is enough for the heart to beat

to  transform naivety into shrewdness 

of some kind, many long for it in the ancient past

to moisten their dry parched youth, as the case

it never befalls where it ought to, yearnings

fossilized froze in the corner of heart, birds

never chirp on the skeletal trees, insects don’t

dwell in the deceased fallen barks, dimpled

cheek cupids doesn’t appear for those who

always wait and sigh, no ballads are sung

on the onset of  youth, nor a tear on its passing,

some do age without the grace of a glance

and leave the grim world  still longing for

 one glance.

 

Flower Wreath
Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Literature, Love, poetry, Self-Help

Pride of A Flower Wreath

Weaved with a lot of skill and compassion

Oblivious stood erected in disdain 

Persian turquoise, Indian indigo…

You name it, and I had flowers of different valleys

Bathed in egotism, adorning-robe of pride

Relishing my pristine appearance, while

Scorning others, self gloating was my sin

Sure of my fate, to be embellished at 

reception decor Of heavenly virgin bride, 

I Spoke meticulously the tongue of vanity,

My artisan a blind simpleton 

Crafted me with great virtuosity 

A connoisseur of colors, arranged

Silk flowers with tears filled with pity 

But I basking in the glory of self adulation 

Elated, high browned  looked down on him.

On other customary bunches, turn after turn

Dates after dates,  final day arrived wrapped in laced

White Upholstery, escorted in a black Lemo

to a town of a black widows, shrieking wailing 

unwelcomed my arrival, roughly handled and bruised 

was placed on a coffin of one senile old man, whose

only act of courage was a piece of land where he 

was to buried.

 

life, poetry

Life Happens

We begin grand, lofty 

curved, meshed up chords 

entangled at the centers, 

lefts and rights, inflated at 

the very core  with crimson

bloods raging and ranting

in those youthful bulbous

veins but then Boom! One 

more sonic Boom! A Bang!

Life happens….

I am no enlightened soul

I am nobody, just address me

somebody , but I know my

mama told me,

Life will straighten out the

most twisted chords!

 

Madam Giselle
feminine, Literature, poetry, satire

Madam Giselle’s Tragedy

“Makeupum Divina lipstickum 

Hail Oh, scentum , perfumee lios

Goddess Stilettum que sara sara”

 

Madam Giselle woke up to one glorious afternoon,

and damn those long-long lashes stretching little

over than the river Nile. Sparkling stilettos towering 

way above the heights of the leaning Towers of Pisa!

Having Insight 24 inches waist Madam stretched her back,

skillfully squeezed her belly to adorn golden Victorian 

corset, but it wasn’t to be easy for Gods have conspired and

were hell bent to bring down the penniless heiress from the

25 floor Ivory Castle.

As madam painted her face white with crushed powders of

corals from the far-off Gulfs in the fashions of Japanese Geisha

Fluttered fake lashes, ostentatious snobbish smiles extending

little more than her chiseled jaws, heavily armored with

 French powder and perfumes.

All the effort to slay any man who dare to passed by, hurriedly made

her way through the narrow allies of apartment suit in a

perpendicular fashion to avoid crushing her precious creases.

Oh so much pride, such high vanity, but she is indeed a beauty!

Tragedy fell upon! A loud thunder as heavens roared

heels cracked the sparkling Stilettos fell apart before her careful

gaze giving way to the bare ankles. It was to be the

first omen,

Acrimonious beings floating  fluttering in air laughing,

giggling; a loud thunder & descended million unwelcome

tiny crystal droplets, soaking the kohl smudged eyes

cascading into pools of black waters….

“Why it had to happen to me” ,cried Madam Giselle

Was my crime to be in vain or was it just a naive disdain?

But a little pride is not bad for a woman of my type!

countdown
poetry, satire

Daylight Saving

The days of grand Camelot are over,

dark ashen damp dew now hovers; 

The freshly baked pies are a hoax

At least that’s what we have been coaxed

Daylight saving is now fluctuating

Am I still hallucinating? 

When glorious God said let their be light 

he knew not over here it was still night.

Intellectuals and their thoughts

but  there are no causes to be fought

Wordsworth’s English daffodils are blooming 

once again my lazy brain is fuming.

I overslept thinking it was a raven night,

but weather channel said it’s all hyped

get up there is enough light!

Green goddess Springdales has arrived

Wait I don’t see a single twig in sight,

my neighbor’s garden is still white!

 

 

Mysterious melody
poetry, satire, sensual, woman

Madam Neverhurry’s Mysterious Malady

Madame Neverhurry cousin

of  Gustav Flaubert’s

Mrs Bovary,awoke at past 12

Suffering from a malady

Known as melancholy,

Casts her glance on the

Day’s chore, bored puts

The blinds back on, deciding

To have some high tea,

Summons, mischievous elves

On fire wings impatient

Yells “to get lost and bring

Forth aromatic mint tea with

Hazel nuts three or four”

On first command the elves

Disappeared, conjuring

A mysterious tea in glasses

Of crystal while the Madame

Put powders and billows,

adorning her buffet with

One Exquisite Ostrich feather

competing with the slopes

of Alps, all while thinking of

day’s chores and bitchy gossips

to be done which caviar to

be served with what exotic wine

at customary evening suppers

while discussing a mysterious

malady  possessing modern ladies

known  something as depression

so much work to do all 

in a day, madam fainted

at 1 while still in satin beds

Personal elves hurried worried

Bellowing some wind trying

to revive with peacock

fans, “oh poor madam,

suffering pangs of

melancholy once again”

 

( Dedicated to all my beautiful women who loves to get up past noon)