Born to wane

Pretty without purpose

Are they born to be wasted?

The faraway fields

Speckled in yellows

They stay unnoticed

And, unappreciated,

In irony are pulled out

In exasperation

The revival of life

With no symbolisms

Ruthlessly abhorred

Viewed in disdain

Wistful and dying

Folklore bestows value

Grantor of wishes

Purveyor of passion.

Selfless are the dandelions

Resilient in charity

Thriving through it all

The timekeeper lives on  

Innocuously inane

I look at you, making faces.

You contort into mockery.
The world perceived, judges
While you play our your genes
Silliness defines you, pervades
Whilst others worry about mores
You dance to your own tunes
Pacing, lost in thought, chattering
Defiant and indignant
Piques in the constancy of conflict.

Anointed

Olfactory, my senses

Deep within conjures
Vivid memories, for
Each of the scents

Mellow, light, flowery

My aroma wafts
Announcing my presence
Only to the discerning

Bold and heady

Others’ can be
Artificial, it reeks
While hoping to imbue

I churn and swish

And take it within,
Nothing eliminates
Not even coffee bean

A whiff or a tang

A trace or a smack

The days of yore

They do bring back

Prompt: Imaginary garden with real toads

For freedom...

A crusade set forth upon

By the better halves
Many among who, privileged
But have a mottled past

In unison came the cries

Of equality, of shining bright
Change was in demand
Of freedoms and rights

An unexpected trigger

From transpired events
The voice heard as one
In the ceiling makes a dent

Historically unprecedented

Awaited in eager anticipation
The turn of events meant
It was not to attain fruition


Imaginary garden with real toads

Cliches and replays

I pen my thoughts

 And I pause to ponder

What I envision as poetry

Is a transcript of maunder

Clichés abound in volumes

Unspoken remain few

And, of banal verbiage

There are certainly a slew

There seems to run

A constant theme

If I were to start a clique

I’d call it a meme

If connected by words

My life would seem bleak

Figments it is after all

Into imagination, a peek

Building walls

Building a wall around

My swing of emotions

Impenetrable enclosure

Keeps away even oceans

Adept, I am getting to be

At hermit mentality

While attempts are a fail

To move away from banality

Nothing seems to dent

Nor create a notch

Such is the impassability

Will not dislodge

Sunshine and happiness

Are held at bay

Darkness in the confines

And in the soul weights

Heart cries out to be free

The brain holds back

The day shall come

When the wall shall wrack.

Glockenspiels and Jingle bells

Alone in a sea of few

People who love and care

I flaunted it in pride

And cause me more despair

When the tides turned

Crowds beseeched me

I seemed to belong

In company, I decried

Push away the proximal

Retreating within my shell

This subsistence will

Prove to be my death knell

Candor

Twirling in the freedom

Of today’s gorgeousness

Frolicking in my wisdom

Letting go of annoyances

 

In hues of pastels

With rosy spectacles

Breaking out of their shells

Are the little miracles

 

I crave this innocence

The living in the moment

The state of immanence

Where happiness is potent

 

In quest of the tenuous twister thriller

 

 

http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2016/01/flash-55-plus.html

Quirky cat videos

Funny, offensive or amusing

People react to it, in many ways

Likes and comments cause a rousing

Move on, they do in few days

 

Symbolic, the creator aimed,

But, was lost in translation

Disclaimer, no animal was maimed

Was needed to appease the nation

 

Cats and dogs come and go

Causes, they espouse are many

Life is, after all, a great big show,

Actors on stage are zany.

Train tales

I am left with the shake

The aftermath of a locomotion

The big beast of burden

Just whizzed by this station

 

Like rooted in time, I stand

Unable to process it all

If not pulled away

I could stay till nightfall

 

The 70 coaches fly past me

he passengers waved and smiled

I soaked it all in with feeling

For after all I was a railway child.

 

The hustle of the world

For all of five minutes

Embarking of its journey

The lifting of my spirits

 

Snaking away slowly

Way past my line of sight

I am left pondering

At my lonely plight

 

Goodbyes are hard

But its only until next time

Then a cheery hello

Such is, of life, the clime.

 

Inspired by: Imaginary Garden with Real Toads

 

Photo credit: Douglas Salisbury (through Imaginary Garden with Real Toads)

 

Adornment

 

The rays of sunshine

Dance with the leaves

A graceful rendition

A ballet of sorts

 

Shadowed amidst light

The foliage prance about

Breezed away gently,

By the summer wind

 

The elegance, the joy

The blissful trots  

The sparkling rays

The rustling trees

 

Operatic allegory

Of the unseen nature

Nestled within

The deep forests

 

No prying eyes

Just carefree abandon

The primal purity

And pristine grace

Spat with summer

The sun shines bright,

I am gray within

The breezy world beckons

My legs immovable lead

 

The cheery chirping

While I wallow in quiet

The joyous awakening

I choose to give a miss

 

I wait in patient gloom

For the apathetic autumn  

Mirroring my own ennui

Preview to the forbidden frost.

 

 The Tuesday Platform

"I had a lover's quarrel with the world."
- The epitaph on Robert Frost's grave.

In contentment, in joy

 

You, to be born tomorrow

Of me, mine shall be called

You shall bring me no sorrow,

As with you, I shall be enthralled.

 

As much a part of me, you are

Though seeds, I’d have sown,

Truth could be very bizarre,

You shall be of your own.

 

I shall bring you into the world,

I will wait to see your face,

And then let you free to unfurl,

Every bit will forever amaze.

Aspire to inspire

 

 

I nurture and protect

My little one with care,

I ensure right things and

thought to others he spare.

 

While I cocoon him today,

From the happenings away,

I stop and pause and wonder,

How will I keep horror at bay?

 

The big bad world, I caution,

Will set out to get him,

While mountains, he scales,

And oceans he swims.

 

Hurt and disappointment,

With love, I can embalm,

Nightmares and torture,

Disturbs what little of calm.

 

I equip him well, I try,

To face the world with élan,

Everyone’s qualms to defy.

To be the human, he can.

 

 

Zenith Zen

 

 

One step after another,

With feet feeling like lead,

As toward the peak, I gather,

My soul is waiting to be fed.

 

The top of the world feel,

The beautiful solitude,

In tranquility, I kneel,

Everything is perfectly tuned.

 

The blood and sweat, on the way,

Didn’t for a moment, matter,

In perfect harmony, I sway,

No thoughts, nowhere scatter.

Art of life

I watch life, as if it were an art,

A painting, a landscape, set apart,

I watch it, as if it is the stage,

And, stay away from it, I manage.

 

Every brush stroke, is a breath taken,

Some unfinished, midway forsaken,

The climax is awaited, hoped befitting,

Actors in it trudge on, unwitting.

 

A blank canvas for one and all,

Hues and grays have now befall,

Unscripted was how it all began,.

Destiny, and then its course ran.

 

A canvas, a stage, that’s all it is,

With onset and ends, hits and miss,

Subjects and actors keep moving on,

Many a shapes and roles, each dons.

Prominence, in anonymity

I seek to emulate the greats,
Rub off on me, I hope, their traits,
Sharing some Longfellow tastes,
Dickinson, Whitman and Frost's days.

Walking into their hallowed homes,
Breathing in the smell of their tomes,
Pacing by the desks of oaken,
The air is filled with words unspoken.

I close my eyes and take it in,
In the turmoil, of where I begin,
I harbor no mammoth ambition,
Humbly, I set out on a poetic mission.

A passing allusion

 

An afterthought, I shall remain,

Trying otherwise, is in vain,

Should I to the fact, resign?

Or of otherwise, try to feign?

 

Nurturing, is it a part of me?

Though its results, I never get to see,

Always, that’s me, behind the scenes,

Uncaring, the end is about the means.

 

Can I do anything different?

Do I just ascribe it to be efferent?

Will this feeling be persistent?

Am I destined to be itinerant?

Homecoming

I open the door and step in,

A sadness lies deep within,

A welcome feeling, yet strange,

Back home, did I manage?

 

Seeing the familiar, my heart flutters.

My home, like my mind, has clutter,

The good kind, of the lived in tatters.

My reverie shall not be shattered,

 

Pictures in frames, of my past,

Trinkets of life, over time, amassed,

Souvenirs collected over travels.

Walking by, my story unravels.

 

Every step now, is a burden of pause,

Avoiding any possible faux pas,

Lingering within are gnawing doubts,

Coming to terms, with my whereabouts.

Mystified misgivings

 

 

 

Downhill, my life seems to go,

Crashing into the dark trenches,

The strength I seek, eludes me,

The waterfall of hurt, drenches.

 

A river of agony washes over,

Taking me to the ocean of despair,

Baying, I moon around in the jungle,

Murmuring a helpless prayer.

 

From mountaintops to gorges,

I hunt for my vanished joy,

Confined within, like a lake,

Days continue to be a decoy.

 

A stream of love, is all it will take,

To break this flow of gloom,

With a splash in the pond of inclusion,

Under the stars, I try to bloom.