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On life and its vagaries

Posts Tagged ‘nature

Remembering

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Remembering

Listening to bird
Calls at night, I remember
Not to forget

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Written by Sam

July 1, 2012 at 6:13 pm

Haiku’s

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Haiku’s

1

I saw, by chance, a
Smile on a sad face; why seek
Peace in futile words

2

The rudder seems new,
The Boat, about to take off,
What ails the slow breeze

3

The skies remain veiled
After a day of dogged rain.
Mirrors seem to cloud

“………………………..”

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“………………………..”

Denizens of the underworld rooting for his life is a dormant psyche’s mistaken and muted wail.
Before hand
By a mind tortured to the extreme by inner conundrums -with the imprint of harsh reality on fantasies and ever reducing the zest to live, combating gips were being thrown out in the guise of barely fine-spun imagery.
Those were gruesome, and never ever were handsome, aiming to center on the not so winsome. Quips created to while away the ever ascending OF terrors of life.

By the macabre purchase of quaint expressions brave the world?
By and by that domain was overtaken by inanition.

Crossing A River

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The Original Story

 

“Two mendicants, having taken a vow of celibacy

 Were about to cross a river

 

A pretty lass was about to do the same

But was looking with fear at the rushing waters

 

The young mendicant suggested that

 One of them carries her across

 

The old guy said:

 

Son, we have taken a vow

Of celibacy, we can’t do such things

 

The other Said:

 

We have only taken

A vow of not marrying, not one of Not Carrying

 

The old guy Said:

 

 Do what you will

 

The three got across and went their ways

 

After a while the old guy grumbled:

Yet you shouldn’t have done that:

 

The young one responded:

 

I deposited her on the shore itself

Strangely you seem to be still carrying her!”

 

 

 

( This was the old tale. Yet what happened was this):

 

The Real Story

 

The old guy

Seeing the younger one quite set on carrying her across

And grasping the dangers of bodily contact

Volunteered to carry her saying:

 

 Just watch our rear, when we are in the waters

 

They proceeded thus to the other side

The girl turning her head to look at the boy often

And the boy blushing when their eyes met

 

Water being a fine conductor of nervous energy

Their rapport was instantaneous

 

At the far side, after thanking the old man

They both took off together

 

The old guy, watching them disappear

In the distance, mused:

 

When you carry something precious

You either don’t put it down

Or you make sure that it stays yours

Before doing so

Touch of Dew

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Touch of Dew

While young, some girl brought me

A blade of grass with

A glistening dewdrop at its end

It looked like a drop of pearl ….

  

She said:

 

Sam, it’s so cool to the touch, you know,

Can I touch it to your eye?

  I had doubts on its coolness and

My ‘coolness’ in allowing such a silly thing

Yet being kind, I said hesitantly:

“Go ahead then”

 

And that touch of dew over my iris

Altered my way of seeing things…..

 

I don’t know where she is now

But I know she changed my life

On A Split Hydra

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On A Split Hydra

                                                                                                  (Poems on nature)

She split into two
No one knows how
There’s some who say that
It was a hacked and bisected thing
Just a chance happening-
In a moment of pain

 

It doesn’t matter
How it came about
Where there was one
Now there’s two
And the one clasps the other like
It has iron claws
Everyone who looks at the two
Would learn it at a glance
There is no help for them
They are fated to part

 

Yet once split, it started pining for
The split part
It grieves and cries over it
Over and over
It has turned maudlin
Those who watch, feel the rent of the heart
The tearing of the eyes
The snot blocking the larynx
The juice in the troubled voice
(Even if it’s a hydra and we
Are being anthropomorphic)

 

Yet It’s a sad thing
Who’s there to console the poor being

 

However hard it tries to hold on
It had splintered apart
The more it
Stays separate
The harder it’s going to get
The older part would age and shrivel
And the sprung part would grow
And move off
It’s how the world goes on
You can’t hang on

 

Those that became severed
Can’t stay united
Yet we are all such fools
We think we can find some way
To repair the incompleteness
That we see in ourselves

 

It’s a fact of life that
All repairs need be in the heart
Letting go of something
Is an art
Its learned through pain and
The inevitability of loss
So let us say to the fading one:

 

Don’t cry, you darling thing
Learn to live with the hurt
Learn to let go, learn to
Receive the pain. You aren’t alone
We are all with you.
We are around you, and we know
How you feel. We are there for you
Aren’t we all one after all?

Poinciana

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Poinciana

Yesterday

Through the pale Violets of dawn

A traveler was seen slow

Mute tartars were then foraging

In the viscous souls of the flowers

Their faces mauve with the violated blood

And their black hides and swishing tails

Twitching as flies protested at the brutal feast

The muffled tremor distinct and threatening

 

A dead breeze was hugging the ground

Faintly caressing the torn and fallen petals.

And as they fluttered on the ground in mute pain

The sky seemed to turn its grey visage towards the overhanging cliffs

But they yet stood still with the weight of the sight.

On the far side, the distant hills, unseeing and bluing

Were heaving their bosoms up

Surfacing through the failing mist

 

There air had turned still, harsh with its bated breath

And the sun hovering over hills now pulsed livid and angry.

As he passed through them, the traveler

Left the liquidators jolting–still for long moments

Their heads rigid, nostrils wide and flaring

The curves of their horns showing fretted and coarse

Their jaws yet working, eyes hulking vast and scared-

The skies spread through the irises, and something dead in them

 

As he now was stepping carefully through the mushy dents

Made by the hoof marks of the grazing kine-

Some of those still gaping fresh with deep and brownish lesions

And the field vivid in a darkling green, soft and still to his feet

He saw a Poinciana flaming by the boundary, its canopy

Spreading its wings, sheltering e’en the marauders in its shade