This was supposed to be a post in prose, well it ended up as a poem.Well I don’t have a lot to say, read the poem and see if you can figureout what is going on.
Listening to the brittle drops,
Shattering up on the blades of grass,
The T.V speaks its own language,
Imaginations in the depth of those events lost,
Though fictitious, mind filled in those fascinations.
Life comes not in the cheapest ways,
Always takes its toll in account of time,
And none could do anything about other than,
Say “damn it” and go back to listening.
Oh’ how wonderful it is to see and hear,
The nesting birds even in the spring who lost,
The warmth somewhere in the embraces of winter,
The old man who is still kissing the beauty,
Of the young and colorful spring.
Those little chirping birds show,
How to find ways through the given time,
Even when the paths are not fitting,
For barefooted ballet dancing.
Nothing ever brings to mind boredom,
As whatever happens is the moments truth,
Which is what is given for the moment,
Through the times and paths of life learned,
To take what’s given and never to wish,
For what’s not given or earned.
Easy it is not to be patient,
But with practice of nearly four decades,
Learned to cope with sadness that engulf mind.
Sadness, just another emotion like happiness,
Comes and goes at will in a passion filled mind.
In these days from all that have gone by,
Learned not to say “I don’t know”
If said, will be the worst crime,
Against the consciousness of oneself.
The days carry on through cycles,
That moves fast through time these days,
Still some wishes and dreams fight inside, undying,
The metaphors and smilies lay slaughtered,
As reality that dies not and heals not,
In time or with any knowledge and experience earned,
The truth remains as is, O dear, it remains,
That none of the distractions tried worked,
As I love you more than you and I can imagine.
Lovely poem! Each para is taking me to different world. It makes me to think life in various perspectives.
Bless You! ~Namaste~ Nidhi
This is truly wonderful most people that xanga even if they have a name that suggests they are a poet rarely write poems let alone something that is this good well written I loved this I am also going to read and probly comment more of your stuff and if I like than chances are you my friend will get a subscriber… Well done..
Came around to read what my daughter was talking about. Very impressive. I ordered your book and I will let you know my thoughts after reading it.
Linda Green
hey, thanks for stopping.
have a great wkend.
great read here.
What was your topic for this poem?
With me your work Lonely Poet reminds me of a movie I watched when I was really little. It had this guy in a library talking about ancient Persian poetry and how because everyone had lost the original meaning they were forced to put it into their own lives perspective. “Sweet dark honey” I think is what he called it.
Beautiful in its simplicity.
Your poetry has a lot of imagery; it keeps the mind occupied in its descriptions. In my own viewpoint (which could be far from your intention of the poem) I somehow imagine the sound of clanking machinery and man’s want to escape from it…or from the norms, the hustles and bustles of life, from mankind’s inventions, or its habits.
I think that any poem that can make its readers imagine, self-reflect and bring their own perspective into its body is a well written poem.
And thanks for the comment.
conscious awareness is something you cannot beg, borrow or steal…it is a learned behavior but oh so worth it…..
Do you have HBO?