Poetry from Serendipity Sprout

Redemption

Today I met an angel,

waiting in line to redeem our cans.

The line was long, shopping carts full of bottles,
a cold wet day, we chatted to pass the time.
A man walked up to me, I noticed his formal looking jacket,
his many necklaces, cross and crucifix, mother Mary,
a copper chain with the letters K and M studded in diamonds.
There were many in line, but he approached me,
eager to tell me his tale.
He spoke fast, with a heavy accent,
apologizing for his imperfect English,
He told of how he came from Czechoslovakia,
but fought for our country in the war.
He said he had been to heaven,
and returned to Earth,
protected by a blessing from Jesus.
His health was amazing,
at 75 he was healthier than the rest of us,
waiting there in the cold.
He said when it snowed, no snow would land on his car.
Everyone else would drive 10 miles per hour,
but he would drive 100.
The police would pull him over,
but they would not give him a ticket,
they would kiss his hands,
because they knew he was from heaven,
and he would share his benediction.
He was named after Mary and Joseph
something he only told his close friends.
I wanted to kiss his hands too,
but I didn’t.
I told him my father
also shared the initials
on his necklace, K.M.
a man who once talked to God,
through his computer.
As I was getting into my car,
I saw his parked next to mine,
a long dent and scratch down the side
told it’s own story,
don’t drive faster than
your angels can fly.

Poetry from Robert Quill

Peelings

I strip
away my
life
in awkward
peelings.

Beneath,
a clown.
Macbeth. Whoever.

Don’t eat the
chips. They are full
of worse poisons
than lead.

But they
go nicely
in a word salad.

Star Horizons

I’m a space
traveling mama
who’s really
a man.

I go from one
planet, your inner
self, to the next,
your enemy’s garden.

I’m everywhere,
nowhere, collecting
evidence to hold the
rest of the universe

in celestial contempt.

Essay from Chimezie Ihekuna

INTRODUCTION

The self-help material, ‘11 Major Deceptions You Must Guard Yourself Against …’ is primarily a relationship-based material that cut across relationship recognition, marriage and seriousness – defined relationships (amongst individuals). It is work-piece with the potential of helping those seeking for serious relationships and marriages.

It gives a “let-us-face-it” approach to analyze the power of certain blindfolds known as deceptions in terms of their true recognition, consequences and proffers long lasting solutions to preclude oneself from their servitude. With insight-based examples, stories and other interests, the work-piece sheds light on each of the mentioned deception.

It unravels the can of worms associated with various marriages and relationships people involve themselves in. From the fruiting years of childhood to the growing years of youth and finally, to the stable years of adulthood, the material deals with blindfolds associated with people of these ages. Infidelity, divorce, pre-marital and post-marital sex and other vices are general blindfolds that the work-piece believes originates from the media, schools and the general society.

Deceptions 1to 11 discuss the blindfolds virginity loss affect the lives of youngsters, influences the persona of the male and female folks in terms of getting married, the adverse effects of engaging in multiple sexual relations, the ills of chauvinism of men and resulting subjugation of women  in marriage, the wrong prioritization of money as criterion for marriage, the wrong notions of  men and women about each other, the “love is blind” and “divorce is normal” veils, the issue as to whether married men and or women keep a company of singles, the belief of men going on sexual adventure with women and the conviction that things can get better when married.

11 Major Deceptions You Must Guard Yourself Against… gives the way-outs of the blindfolds in the time and age the world is living in. This is intended to enable individuals who are in serious relationships with their spouses and “normally” married for people around the world, irrespective of race, status or background, a beneficial and enduring union with their spouses.

 

 

Tables of Contents

Deception 1: It is no big deal losing your virginity

Deception 2: It is good to feel the ‘sweetness’ of sex by engaging other partners into it.

Deception 3: The ‘bad’ girls end up getting or marrying the ‘good’ guys (vice versa)

Deception 4: As men, we ought to give into sex advances from women, whether married or not.

Deception 5: When there is money, it will be safe to get married

Deception 6: He (or she) has a sexually not-good past, but will change, though still in the habit of flirting

Deception 7: Love is blind

Deception 8: Divorce is normal

Deception 9: As a married man or woman I can still keep an intimate company of bachelor or spinster friends

Deception 10: Till the right man or woman comes will I become sexually faithful.

Deception 11: Things will change for the better only if I am married.

 

 

DECEPTION 1

It is no big deal losing your virginity

In recent times, a youngster, losing the worth of sexual virginity, is no longer an anomaly as it used to be. In fact, there are various statements that encourage young people to “give up” their virginity. Expressions such as “You are not a woman, if you aren’t sexually active”, “You’re missing the peak of sexual enjoyment, if you don’t indulge in it”, “This is the age you experience the dynamics of manhood and womanhood”, “Make love!”, “You‘ll become a complete person” and so on are used to effect what has now become the acceptable modern value – promiscuity instead of chastity. However, if we view this issue from both sides of the coin, can it be said that promiscuity possesses an intricate (positive) value than chastity?

Consider a situation where a farmer, as part of his painstaking selfless service towards community development, was handsomely rewarded with two fertile lands which he has to choose from. The first land had been bush-fallowed, used for other not-good purposes (diabolism). However, its soil is fertile; very cultivation-friendly. On the other hand, the second land has never been fallowed, possesses a host of ever-green tall trees, productive medicinal crops and cash crops, never been defiled and obviously very fertile. If you were the farmer, which of the lands would you choose from?

Undoubtedly, Teenagers are the victims of this development as they take in hook, line and sinker the efficacies of the deceptive “It’s no big deal losing your virginity”. From the every late years of childhood to the stable years of adulthood, virginity loss has become a household name and is an embraced phenomenon. Why?

Generally, youths seem unperturbed; the cancerous spread of virginity loss in the lives of every tom, dick and Harry. Unfortunately, young women are most times victims of this eventuality. Conversely, teenage men are not left out as virginity loss sets the pace for a likely insecurity and doubt (infidelity) in their subsequent dealings with their female counterparts

At this juncture, a striking statement would be made to enlighten people about virginity’s worth, irrespective of gender. But the term “virginity” has its light reflected on the woman, though it applies to the man. Hence, our attention would be focused on the female genders. Before the “striking” statement, a ray of light would have to be shed on the ‘virginity’, cutting across the male and female genders: virginity is a mindset which can be translated as the ability of the individual to abstain or practically say “No” to lust-filled offers, no matter the nature of prevailing circumstance.

“The only physically sacred possession, worth, most cherished jewel a woman can really uphold is her virginity. Without it, she is (likely) to be treated like other women, irrespective of status and background. The consequences? Increased in-security and doubts as unveiled by infidelity continued fornication and adultery. The way out? A thorough and genuine spiritual overhaul”. This is the striking statement.

The Leonardo Da Vinci’s Monalisa Portrait is the most insured material in the world; no man can buy it, even the world’s richest man! What is fascinating is that modern X-ray can reveal only its three visible versions. If a man-made material can be seen as the most expensive and insured, how much more the God-inputted virginity?

Founded in 1886, Coca-Cola arguably remains the most richest and successful bottling company in the world. Why? The peculiar (codified) concentration that tastes uniquely different in various places is obviously the reason for its greatness. Without this reason, Coca-Cola, like other bottling companies will undoubtedly not be as successful as it is. In the same but a more greater vein, a woman who is a virgin is one in a million of women, an analogous “field”, attracting well-meaning men to her because what is “codified” in her is undefiled, yet to be decrypted.

A Buddhist Priest is designated with the “ritualistic” responsibility of keeping the sacredness of the temple at specified times. Similarly, the God-given virginity is a sacred worth which ought to be kept until the time is discerned for consented ritual is figured out. In other words, marriage should be the specified time (time discerned) where the fullness of consented ritual (sexual intercourse) exercise can be appreciated. Unfortunately the sacred worth of many young people (especially women) has been lost before the “stipulated time”. In fact, the world has turned upside down, clamping down the accepted value of chastity and promoting promiscuity in various forms; media, schools, and people. Without an equivocation, there are consequences of “decrypting” the God-given ‘code’ before the ‘stipulated time’. What are they?

Reviewing the crux of the “striking” statement with respect to the asked “what are they? the following can be inferred.

(1)  Increased in-security and doubt (as unveiled by infidelity)

(2)  Continued fornication and adultery

Others include contracting diseases, vagueness in direction (life-set goals) poor sense of judgment, low self-esteem e.t.c. These would be explained in Deception 2. Precisely, these point at the gravity or efficacy of encouraged promiscuity using the loosing-your-virginity approach as a starter.

On the other side of the coin, chastity poses its consequences whose price demands a painstaking commitment with proven-results of self-control. The following showed the aftermaths of chastity.

(1)  Chastity saves youngsters from the dangers of unwanted pregnancies (female ones)

(2)  Chastity prevents young people from imminent dangers of contracting diseases that are deadly.

(3)  It precludes juveniles from the servitude of increased in-security and doubt and in future, infidelity in terms of continued fornication and adultery.

(4)  The worth of chastity affords youths the opportunity to be goal-focused; prospect-driven; success-oriented and counseled rightly.

(5)  At this point, a question is directed to you: Sincerely which of these is a mirage? Options: (a) Chastity (b) Promiscuity.

If you are reading this and you are not a virgin, it is no crime. After all, as humans, we are mistake-bound. However, you can start now by vowing to become chaste, though it is a hard nut to crack task but it is worth the effort, considering the long-term benefits. If you are a virgin, no matter what is been said, always say to yourself, “I am one in a million of women.

Note: If you question seven guys on whom they will marry, there is a likelihood that you will get at least four response saying; “I would prefer marrying a more chaste girl”.

 

 

Travel vignette from Norman J. Olson

From London to Real Winter

by:  Norman J. Olson

 

on Tuesday, January 15, 2019, Mary and I had a busy morning running errands…  not too long after noon, we caught a bus on the cold and icy corner of McKnight Road and Stillwater Road in St. Paul, a five minute walk from our house…  it takes about an  hour for this bus to get across St. Paul via West Seventh Street and Randolph Avenue…  we crossed the Mississippi on the Ford Parkway bridge and caught a light rail train at the 46th St. Station for the ten minute ride to MSP airport…  at about 5 pm, we got on a beautiful 767 for the overnight flight to London Heathrow…

 

we got to London early in the morning, and made our way to the tube station to buy new Oyster cards…  these are fare cards for the London underground and make getting around central London simple, cheap and easy…  Oyster cards in hand, we got the Piccadilly Line to Earls Court where I had booked a nice cheap hotel…  central London is very expensive but as you get further out, the hotels get much cheaper…  closer in than Earls Court, the prices go up…  further out, the prices are the same but the subway ride is longer…  so for a visitor to London, Earls Court is ideal…  and it is on the Piccadilly line which makes it easy to get to from Heathrow and as a busy line, trains are seldom more than a minute or two away…  the District line also stops at Earls Court, which makes it a straight shot to Victoria to catch a train or a coach…  anyway, the little hotel we use is modest and serves a free full English breakfast (beans, eggs, white toast, coffee, bacon and bangers) which is a great way to start off a winter day of exploring in London…

 

Art from Dante Gabriel Rossetti, woman in a green gown out in a garden

we find the best way to readjust jet lag is to just get on with our day, so after a few hours of rest and freshening at the hotel, we got the tube to Leicester Square…  we like to visit London in January because, while it is often cold and rainy, it is much nicer than weather in Minnesota in January and we find the crowds much less…  in summer in central London, it is sometimes so crowded that you can barely walk and the museums etc. just get sort of overwhelmed…  plus, in January, it is easy for us to get flights…  our pattern on these trips is to spend the days in art museums and the evenings going to plays…  so, at Leicester Square, we found discount tickets for the plays that Mary wanted to see starting that night with Mama Mia…  this is not my kind of music, but live theater is always fun and I enjoyed watching the beautiful young singers and dancers and Mary loved the play…

 

after the play, we were ready for a crash, so headed back to the hotel, just a few minutes away by tube…  the subway, of course, was standing room only with  the after theater crowd…  the next day after our fabulous breakfast, we took the tube with a change at Green Park to Pimlico…  where it is a short walk to the Tate Britain…  I had noticed that the Tate Britain was having a huge show of the work of Victorian Pre Raphaelite Edward Burn-Jones and was very excited to see the show…  it cost about $20 each to get in but the show was amazing…  Edward Burn-Jones was a second generation Pre Raphaelite whose paintings of fairytales, Arthurian legends and mythological subjects earned him a significant fortune in the late 1800s and became virtually worthless as the 20th Century wore on…  those who know me know that I have been a serious student of Pre Raphaelite art for many years and have traveled a good deal to see actual works, especially those of Dante Gabriel Rossetti… I am not sure why I enjoy this art so much, but I love to look at the Pre Raphaelite paintings and drawings and to read about the artists’ personal lives…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Laus Veneris, by Edward Burne-Jones

so, to see an exhibition of the magnitude and quality of the one at the Tate Britain was really a treat…   Burn-Jones (I read that he hyphenated his name because he wanted to stand out from the long list of Brits named Jones) is to my 21st century eye, a deeply flawed artist…  I would say some of his work is embarrassingly bad, some of his attitudes worthy of an eye roll from the enlightened pedestal of our own modern philosophical biases…  on the other hand, some of the images, like the fairytale paintings from Buscot Manor, brought down to London to be the centerpiece of this show, are just gorgeously, almost desperately beautiful…  the mechanics/techniques that he used are fascinating to me as a maker of somewhat representational oil paintings and I am just delighted with his ability to draw…  so, while I find some of his works, many of his attitudes  and some of his paradigms unpalatable I am still fascinated by looking at the paintings…  many of these paintings indeed are more interesting to me as autobiographical documents than as embodiments or illustrations of the mythological story told on the card next to the painting…  although, I cannot lionize him or his work as the Victorians did, I still enjoy looking at it and reading about his life and trying to see which faces in the paintings are his wife or his girlfriend…  he was btw, Rudyard Kipling’s uncle…

 

anyway, we walked from Pimlico to the Tate Britain and spent several hours looking at the Burn-Jones paintings, some of which are really wonderful…  then we walked along the Thames Embankment to the famously ornate parliament (Big Ben is hidden by scaffolding)…  there was a great police presence there and tents set up for demonstrators who were demonstrating either for or against Brexit…  I never did figure out which…

Beata Beatrix c.1864-70 Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1828-1882 Presented by Georgiana, Baroness Mount-Temple in memory of her husband, Francis, Baron Mount-Temple 1889 http://www.tate.org.uk/art/work/N01279

 

we then walked on to Trafalgar Square where we whiled away a couple hours in a coffee shop upstairs in a book store, sitting by the window watching the people come and go…  that evening, the play was Motown…  a musical tribute to Barry Gordy and Motown records…  again, not my favorite music, but I enjoyed the nostalgia and always can dig live music, plus, Mary picks the shows while I pick the art galleries, so I hope I have learned a lot and opened my mind a bit by learning to dig what she likes and she loved this show… I knew nothing about Motown, but I remembered many of the songs from the pop charts when I was in high school and later…

 

William Morris’ Golden Lily

the next morning, we took the Victoria line north to the end of the line at Walthamstow…  I had heard that there was a house there that William Morris had lived in that was preserved as a memorial to him and his work…  Morris was Edward Burn-Jones’ close friend and founder of the arts and crafts movement…  he was also a second generation Pre Raphaelite and so of interest to me in that context as his wife was Dante Rossetti’s girlfriend and subject of many of his best paintings…  I find it interesting that although we think of the late 1800’s as anything but liberated, these three were able to work out a ménage a trois of sorts that worked for them for a while…  and Morris is perhaps the only one of the Pre Raphaelites who is still relevant today as his work designing wallpaper and other household items, his philosophy of craftsmanship and quality in everyday products and his talents as poet, prose writer and socialist are modern in the sense that he actually accomplished more by publication and social activism than the more precious if artistically talented Rossetti and Burn-Jones who were fundamentally apolitical…

Chrysanthemums by William Morris

 

we got off the train at Walthamstow and started trying to find the William Morris museum…  we did not have very good directions…  there was a huge street fair going on with many stands lined up in the High Street selling produce and clothing as well as all kinds of other stuff…  none of the people either the sales persons or the customers seemed to have much in the way of English and the people we asked had not heard of William Morris or his house…  after walking about a mile through the street fair, we realized that we were on High Street and should have been on Hoe Street, so we backtracked and found a cell phone salesman who gave us good directions, although, we still had to ask at one more shop before we actually found the museum…  when we got there, it turned out to be a lovely old house with a series of displays about the life of Morris…  I found the story of his life to be far more interesting than I had thought and found his hand drawn wallpaper designs to be incredibly beautiful…  the house was set at the edge of a large park and we sat and had a soda and a coffee in the little shop looking out over the lovely lawns and old trees…  Morris only lived at this house as a child, but I thought that if he could come back, he would have appreciated this serious, lovely and lovingly presented monument to his life…

 

we took the tube back to central London and found the theater just off Piccadilly Circus where the play, the curious incident of the dog in the night-time for that night was playing… this was the only non musical we saw…  Mary had read the book and this was a thoroughly interesting play with lots of avant-garde effects which portrayed events in the life of an autistic child…  I found it profound and moving… yet it had some fine humor as well…   before we went into this play, we bought tickets for a play for Saturday night, the only evening we still had open…  we used one of the half price ticket booths that you see on Leicester Square and around Piccadilly…  the tickets of course, are not usually half priced but they are discounted and it is an easy way to book decent shows in one place at reasonable prices…  there was a whole foods market there, so we bought some snacks to bring into the theater which some theaters allow but others do not, in the cheap seats…  things are a bit more fancy in the pricy seats…  lol

Hope 1886 George Frederic Watts 1817-1904 Presented by George Frederic Watts 1897 http://www.tate.org.uk/art/work/N01640

 

the next day, we took the tube to Knightsbridge where we went into the Victoria and Albert Museum…  this museum is a vast treasure trove of art, furniture and archeological artifacts from all over the world…  I was mostly interested in the paintings and was delighted to find some small strange paintings by the great William Blake who I consider to be a minor artist, but perhaps the greatest of all English lyric poets…  and so anything his hand has touched is of interest to me…  there was also a very nice Rossetti painting of Mrs. Morris in a green dress…  a lovely weird painting but everything I love in Rossetti, so it was a joy to see…

Ophelia 1851-2 Sir John Everett Millais, Bt 1829-1896 Presented by Sir Henry Tate 1894 http://www.tate.org.uk/art/work/N01506

 

after a couple hours of wandering around this vast museum, we left and found a small Pret a Manger restaurant for lunch…  these places have baguette sandwiches, salads and soups that are always cheap, healthy and delicious…  a big improvement on the old days when all you could get in London was foul tasting Wimpy burgers and greasy newspaper cones of grease soaked fish and chips…  we then walked along Hyde park as dusk came into night… it was chilly, but we had our warm gear so were very comfortable and we walked all the way to Piccadilly…    that evening, we used some coupons that the movie ticket guy gave us to have a free piece of cake and a drink at a small café on Shaftsbury Avenue and then went across the street to see the play Thriller, a tribute to Michael Jackson…  again, the music was familiar to anybody who owned a radio in the 80s or 90s…  the musicians and dancers were beautiful, young and enthusiastic and the show was highly entertaining…

Mariana 1851 Sir John Everett Millais, Bt 1829-1896 Accepted by HM Government in lieu of tax and allocated to the Tate Gallery 1999 http://www.tate.org.uk/art/work/T07553

 

the next day, Saturday, was our last in London…  we spent the day again at the Tate Britian looking at the Pre Raphaelite art…  focusing this time on the Victorian room where wonderful pieces by GF Watts, Rossetti, Millais, Holman Hunt and other painters are hung…  I really do not get tired of looking at and studying these amazing paintings…  then we walked again to Westminster and had coffee and soda again at the same coffee bar in the book shop… we decided to splurge on a pre play meal, so had a wonderful Italian dinner at a small restaurant just behind the National Portrait Gallery and walked over to that evening’s play, called The Company…  which was a modern take on the musical about a single woman whose friends bugged her to get married…  it was funny and serious with some nice songs and the lead actress did a fine job of making the audience a part of the character’s life…

 

the next morning, we took the district line to Victoria Station, walked a few blocks to the Victoria Coach station and got on a coach for Amsterdam…  it was fun to see the English countryside of farms and hills and then we got to the Channel tunnel where the coach was put on this train that hauled us through the tunnel, a trip of about a half an hour…  we then spent the day driving across northern France into Belgium and arrived in Brussels in the evening…  we stopped and picked up some food and then went on to Amsterdam where we arrived at ten pm…  I had booked a hotel just off Dam Square in central Amsterdam…  I thought it was eighty euros a night but it turned out that I had read it wrong and it was eighty euros for two nights…  well, that was okay as it was very cheap, but the hotel was a bit more budget than even we usually use…  as we wound up having to climb a mountain of stairs…  fortunately, there was a younger man there who helped us up with our bags…

 

we did not do much in Amsterdam except walk around…  we went to the Cuyp Market where we basically walked around and looked at the goods offered in the many street stalls…  it was ten degrees colder in Amsterdam than London but still not bad by Minnesota standards so we were comfortable walking around…  the food in the market all looked and smelled amazing, especially the cheese shops with their many fat yellow cheeses stacked up…  but we are both on limited diets, so our only real dietary splurge was a Pannenkoeken that we ate with strawberries and whipped cream at a little restaurant we walked by that overlooked one of the canals just a few blocks from the Rijksmuseum…  as we enjoyed our Pannenkoeken which is a sort of light and delicious crepe, and sipped our drinks, we watched the sightseeing boats going by on the canal and the people walking by…

 

we then walked to a tram stop and took a tram back to Dam Square…  as it was dark by then, we walked around the red light district where it is always fun to see the groups of tourists heading for the coffee shops to smoke weed, ogling the high class prostitutes in the windows and glancing sideways at the porno shops with their racks of dildoes and leather underwear… lots of restaurants and bars and people partying…

 

the next morning, we took the train to Schiphol and caught a flight to Minneapolis…  at the airport, we met our son as arranged…  he brought us a hockey bag and a box both of which were full of Christmas presents our daughter had not been able to fit in her bags when her family went back to California after visiting us over Christmas…

 

then after checking those bags, we caught the eight pm flight to Las Vegas…  we had three free nights at a nice hotel in Vegas, so it was good to be there, in the relative warmth doing our usual…  Mary gambled and I spent the time reading and drawing…   we got to Vegas Tuesday evening and on Thursday had the pleasure of meeting with a well known art dealer who has become a friend and who I had never met…  he showed us around his galleries and we had a great time talking about art…  I do not know a lot of art people, so this conversation was very nice to me to talk about this stuff that is such a big deal in my little world…  lol with a knowledgeable and interested person…

 

we then left on Friday and drove to Riverside, California to spend the weekend with our wonderful daughter and her equally wonderful family…  it was hot in Riverside, so we got thoroughly warmed up and enjoyed playing mini golf with the grandchildren… on Monday we drove back to Vegas as we had another free night at a nice hotel…  then on Tuesday, we flew back to Minneapolis…  the temperature when we got off the bus at McKnight Road and Stillwater Road was -18 Fahrenheit (-27 Celsius)…  the north wind was so cold in our faces, we had to turn our backs to the wind three or four times just walking one block to our house…  even so, it was good to be back to our home and real winter….

Poetry from J.D. DeHart

J.D. DeHart

Beak Boy
originally at Strange Poetry
For his seventh birthday, the parents
gave him a jungle-themed birthday party.
Zebras, lions, and rhinos romped around
with elephants and monkeys.
But he chose the toucan mask.
An hour later, they found him squatting
in the tallest tree in the backyard.
“How did he get up there?” mother asked.
“It’s just a phase,” father suggested.
It’s been months.
He only comes down for earthworms
and slices of cake.  He doesn’t do his
chores anymore but has built a rather
splendid little nest.
The neighbors complain of late night
video game flashes and sounds
coming from the tree.  The parents
don’t know what will happen when
winter begins to approach, but father
is still insisting it’s a phase.
Sacred
originally at Eunoia Review
Some people put marks
around a spot of earth
and others hang glass on the wall,
or revel at ceramic figures
or write to famous persons
We collect small items
in boxes, wrap them in newspaper,
and store them away
then get out the old objects
Put them back up to change
seasons, and the cycle continues,
our application of sacred
given to tiny kiln-blown fragments
that cannot even say our names.
Symbolism Takes a Seat
originally at Eunoia Review
In walked dear symbolism,
whom I invited so often to
class with me and down
she sat.
Along the ride, she pointed
out the plumage of bright
birds flapping past, perhaps
resembling courage;
a pool standing stagnant
representing my lack;
an old man signalling
the inevitability of my fall.
Dear, you read too deeply,
she told me as she left,
just enjoy the rest of the trip,
which I took to mean life.
But maybe not.
Abruptly
originally at Eunoia Review
In rushes the season, in rushes
the dog, small frantic creature.
I drain my life before the classroom,
seeping out my humanity
before an unforgiving audience.
The lesson could involve a dancing
tiger and there would be no ovation.
I could light myself afire and someone,
probably that shaggy shiftless one,
would declare, Boring, then return
to a private world of video game avatars.
My switch of gears is abrupt, threatens
to tear out the transmission of life,
spitting out gravel. Somewhere there’s
a new town with the same old “folks”
who populate this town, only wearing
slightly different shades with a variation
of the now-familiar vernacular.
Ruins
originally at Eunoia Review
When they have unearthed us, will they
look back at our architects and mutter,
How they rivaled the pyramids, or will
they first get hold of our wasted celebrity
adoration, our overpopulation, or propensity
for barbaric neighborhood yawp, will they
first peruse the words of Faulkner or Melville,
or lay their hands on the garish pop novels
we carry with us, with oversized umbrellas,
considering our culture with furrowed brows,
will their verdict be, Let us imitate them, or
No wonder they have all gone missing.
Latex
originally at Eunoia Review
The slap of rubber, even in its clownish
lavender shade, conveys the deepest sense
of other, the hand arranging the needles,
shaking up the small bottles and I bidding
my love to go be prodded with those same
sharp implements, the smile on a nurse’s
face as thin and medicinal as those gloves,
a voice like the tapping out of air bubbles.
Orange Epidemic
originally at Eunoia Review
I dreamed about a world where, suddenly
at the edges of their being, some people
started turning orange, burning shades
of autumn, and so the landlords and officers,
wearing their capitalistic top hats, threw
these shades of persons into chains, stuffing
them into Orwellian overalls, and put them
to diligent work building a new country,
throwing up the guard of a new regime.
I have to stop reading dystopian fiction
before turning the lamp out.
John Ram
originally at Eunoia Review
 
When first domesticated, John was given
A power tie and a mug with antlers
He was informed about corporate life
Now he paces in the offices
Snorting and bucking, attempting to climb
The heights are sheer
This is what his hooves are made for
They talk about him at the water cooler.

Poetry from Mahbub

Mind that Lost

 

The earth is crowded with people

So busy with so many works

Sleeping is also one kind of them

I know I sleep I know what I bent to

I know the mind abstracted from that world

I know I see the two doves how

They make love each other

You are delivering the lecture

Sitting just before the dais

Eyes rush to the birds

On the branch of a tree

How they make love

Sometimes talking with you

I lost myself far from reach

I think alone floating on the sea

But I know I am always with you

As usual so many performances to do

The mind goes to where I reside or not

You watch so careful

Love you dear as yet you take care.

 

 

 

Kadamba Flowers

 

Kadamba flowers blooming in the tree

Appear to be the glittering stars in the sky

The glowing sparks with white

Kadambas yellowish covered with softness

You are my love, my dear

Trodden over hundred times by the children with me

Then I knew not the value of you

Now I observe and realize how valuable you are!

When I see you after so many years

Golden touch lurking in the sky

I am under the kadamba tree

I am under the loving care

I am under the kadamba tree

I am under moonlit sky

I am under the kadamba tree

I am under the shady leafy light

Blooming around the tree

In touch of you

Oh softness! My loving dear. 

 

 

 

 

 

Torment

 

My whole body is tormenting

The world seems to be dull and hazy

Smoky all the sights

Where can I resort?

O dear, you are so near so far

So dreamy so real

Face to face I stand I sit down I lie

Swings my head to the loving face

Forms the heart to beat without break

Love you all the elements

You and I like to

I know you don’t see the burning heart

I pass the night living and dying,

Wavers the head and heart

Keeping my hand on the breast

Feel like burning the bricks in the furnace

In the morning while waking up

I see the earth totally hazy

Why dear, came to me and went away

Throwing me in the tormenting darkness?

 

 

A Piece of the Moon

 

You are my piece of the moon

I am the other part

The two makes the one focusing light on the earth

I am the dress of you, you are mine

We are so closed as the seen and the unseen

Both are the fundamental to give us force and sense

We are the one to cope with the world

To walk and run, sleep and dream

Go to the park, come back to home

See the woods and waters

Break the silence of heart and roar together 

We are the invention of the new

To go from one part of the earth to the another

Where there will be no light if one is absent there

Here act all the things that we need for getting together

Passion, emotions, love, sympathy, affection, mutual respect

And what not to move forward with joy and regulation

O sorry, I am going too much

Dear, no time please start.

 

 

 

 

At  Noon

 

Its noon and too hot to go out

The scorching sun burns the skin and the whole body

Though it’s the rainy season

In the silence of the noon

The leaves of the trees are oscillating

Suddenly the birds’ call stir me

I see through the window

All the leaves of life

Green lives, some yellowish

But the sound of the cock’s crow

Appears to be the same the years ago

Now I am at the middle of my life

Trembling in the wind outside the room

Thrived the moments bit by bit

Spark on my eyes

My eyes became closed 

I lost myself in sleep

The world waited for some while

It was then come back to light.

 

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh

19/06/2018

 

Poetry from Vijay Nair

In a winter night

It was a burning winter night
Falling snow a white in light
It sprinkled on trees all bright
It was an unending smile of delight
A cold wind was blowing from far away,
And it made the trees rustle like living things
Within the winter a spring is promised

She was my muse on that frozen dark
Wrapped me in a blanket of love
And kept my heart warm like a furnace
The warmth of her love revamped me into
A dancing spring with blissful heart
Our lips made for each other
And our bare body melted each other

I was in a fairy land of imagination
To know was nothing at all; but,
To imagine was everything for me
It was wider than the sky; and
It was worth more than I imagine!
I had a universe inside my mind
Where flowers bloomed with ecstasy
Butterflies flied high as kites
Love requires imagination
More than experience
So, I am just an imagination!!!

An ugly hand chasing a butterfly 

It fluttered around the garden
Then gently floated over
And landed on the flower and flirted
It was a beautiful yellow butterfly
The wigs of it kiss the sun when flying high
The strands on it’s wings shimmered!

A flying flower sprouted a few minutes ago
The graceful rise and fall of its dance
Gripped my whole attention and suddenly
It made my heart a caterpillar and
It turned into another butterfly!
It sang a wonderful song of love

Butterflies are angels sent from heaven
To bring us luck, happiness, and riches
They are the embodiment of myth
And, planet’s tragic heroines
No one can chase a butterfly for so long
Yet again an ugly hand chasing it for so long!!!

©-Vijay P Nair -2019