I stumble and slip by words, we DaNcE

I’ve got to buy a black tie, a shoe or two,

my off-white shirt hung on steeped lines of mind

and my factitious face is to be blurred so I could

be a stranger amid the strangers of words

and sneak my anonymity into the festivity

 

will you dance with me tonight?

I would hold you, lead you but we would as much fall,

I stumble through rhymes, I slip through rhythm,

a mellow hand can walk me across the room

to the out where the moon shines and stars make a queue

 

will you… will you hold my hand tonight?

I will burp after a huge serving of delight

brought forth by the luminescent phantoms,

let me twirl around like a swan, let me

shake my waist of rusted verse, let me dance

 

will you abjure structure for me tonight?

come, let us walk to the antediluvian tide of time

where I slither through your hands like wet soil,

that should be the end, the vessel of life

I leave to you, take a sip and make a move

 

a poem infused in my vein, a drug-induced sleep

I never wake up, or if I do, I am still naked

devoid of diction, I smother my earnest arms

while feathers of summer float down the sky in shards

and I blow like a balloon along the breeze that lasts

 

For dVerse, where the celebrations are plenteous and the dance is going on.

Image source: 10 Hairy Legs’ Scott Schneider in Julie Bour’s “The Blind Men and the Elephant”. Scenic Design: Benjamin Heller. Photo: Steven Trumon Gray.

Available For Free!

Company: Life Co. Ltd.

Brand Name: Durable Depression

Tagline: A hollow darkness is what prevails in the end.

.

Free! Free! Free!

available absolutely,

adamantly free,

whisper in your friend’s ears

or shout out loud

spitting on your microphones,

let everybody know,

let anybody and everybody know-

the dying man at the pier,

infant in the nursery,

the troubled actress,

the senile scientist,

masochistic husband,

a gullible wife,

stern mother-in-law,

the don of the mafia,

a middle school bully,

shy little girl who believes in fairies,

the eunuch who wants a new life,

a chalk addicted rock star-

let everybody know,

.

a poet’s soul is available for free,

come on dip your rags and

your dirty fingers and

the sickly nails of your toes,

drench your shampooed hair

in the filth of the words,

seeping out of this damaged soul,

take away with you-

some pain,

some lost compassion,

some torn dreams,

some of the bloody emotions,

some of the misinterpreted anger,

some of the unacknowledged hatred,

also that repetitive imagination,

those fervent wishes never coming true,

don’t forget the prickling thoughts,

or the ice-cold dead voice,

and the monstrosity of those feelings,

or that numbing numbness-

take it all away,

empty this tank of every single thing,

not a drop to be left behind,

it has no use anymore,

but for the hollowness,

that would be left behind

perpetuating forever

in its hollow state.

.

*For dVerse Poetics where Brian has prompted us to use slogans and catchphrases in poetry. I couldn’t think of an entirely written poem of slogans. 

A Nimble Adventure (Musing and Editing)

A Nimble Adventure

(original, written on 3 June’ 13)

craving for a nimble adventure,

he boards a train,

prairie bound,

and decides to vault off

this rapidly moving leviathan,

each limb swirling in the wind,

singing deep-throated in rapture,

and eventually

finding his hall to the crypt,

he shivers and trembles,

opening his eyes,

from the nightmare.

Yearning for nimble adventure…

(trying to write a Villanelle out of it)

yearning for nimble adventure,

he hops on last journeying train,

final one to join the venture,

.

prairie bound fleet, he conjectures,

a lowering descent to the plains,

he yearns for nimble adventure,

.

dark tombs remind him of failure,

his life in his eyes was all vain,

but he did join this last venture,

.

hazy thoughts of a dark future,

he decides to vault off his pain,

he yearns for nimble adventure,

.

his every limb, the wind captures,

shivering, he has find his cure,

he joined this very last venture,

.

he sings deep-throated in rapture,

finds his way to hall crypt allure,

he ends the nimble adventure,

he had joined this final venture.

A Nimble Expedition

(finally editing the original in free verse)

yearning for a nimble expedition,

he boards a charcoal train,

prairie bound,

traversing through the dark tombs,

heightened blocks of sand and shingles,

he squints his eyes to ward off

the phantoms of the past,

he decides to vault off

this progressing leviathan,

adjoined with nuts and bolts

destined to go loose one day

like that of the spectacle of a ship,

he takes a leap to freedom,

each limb whirling in the wind,

singing deep-throated in rapture,

and eventually

finding his hall to the crypt,

he shudders, trembles,

opening his eyes,

from the reverie

source

* At dVerse today, we are paying attention to the pieces we once created but now, we have forgotten about. It is time to enter their worlds again and try to make certain changes. I took a poem I wrote in June, and first tried to write a villanelle out of it. I wrote it but it could not keep up with the pace of the poem. So, I decided to make changes in the original free verse. I would like to work on this poem more in the future though because I am not satisfied. I still like the original the best. Now, you are the judge. Do share your views.

Inspired Inscriptions

I Follow The Wind by Judith Clay

on one wheel cycle,

the string of life in her hands,

she breathes in the air,

a wish embedded in heart,

to find her way flying away

.

Henry and Adele by Judith Clay

a flute on his lips,

he summons nightly spirits,

the moon awakens

along with nocturnal beasts

in trance of the magic weaved

.

You can fly, Mary! by Judith Clay

tying her new-print cape,

she journeys through the planet,

looking for a dream,

spectacles perched on her nose,

mulling over her tabloid

.

* For dVerse Poetics where we have been introduced to the art of Judith Clay. I have written three small pieces, inspired by three different works of art (written in syllable pattern of tanka- 5/7/5/7/7).

In the shade of Peepal…

source

sitting in the shade of Peepal,

he invited the gossip

from around the village-

Who ran away with whom?

Who beat his wife?

Whose children disobey?

he lived his years in shade of

his best companion, Peepal,

as his own life slipped away;

.

his condolence meeting was held

eventually in shade of that Peepal

.

* For dverse Meeting the Bar, where Brian celebrates his birthday and invites us to write a story in 55 words. Also for Friday Flash 55, as suggested by Brian.

* Peepal is also known as Sacred Fig, its binomial name being Ficus Religiosa.