fantasizing about glass

that glass of water-
water swirls of it suddenly
uncannily I see you

sensors work overtime

so difficult to fathom for most
yet so easy for me
that instant rapport
without reproach
going on a straightline
I stop. bending over the curve
I touch that milestone.

my sensors worked towards it
I turned towards you
and intend to stay cosseted

beacon burns bright

I slowly roll grieve
touch it for a moment
and throw it as far as I can

I unroll my heart
letting you into it
beacon of it burns bright

a kindred, I found
in nothingness that was-
and firmly established it in me

"I await with impatience for it to wash me over, again and yet again"

photographic peace

photo in the room
I can almost feel you there-
peace shatters in me

the inevitability of yes

fog lifts from within
I see with clarity
of my future ahead.
with no plans
it suddenly materialised
out of nothing.
you made it happen
you will make it happen-
the likes of which I never envisaged.
I give in to you
and you give in to me
inevitability is just accepted.

"that yes, you simply picked up from me;
sunny days, I stole from you"

sleeping dreams

so you sleep so peacefully
uncaring that I watch you
those eye lids moving along
with your tremulous dreams
your nose flaring a bit
the rise and fall of your chest
I subtly put my ears to it
picking up your heart beat
I sway to the rhythm of it
I steady myself and
my palms slide over you
your skin seeps ecstasy
into mine. closing my eyes
I join you in your dreams
adding some of my own..





~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wrote that after reading the following. I don't know if it is transliteration or transcreation.

Variation On The Word Sleep

Margaret Atwood

I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head

and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear

I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and as you enter
it as easily as breathing in

I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.

tattoos, race car, mobile oil and book

he, in that oil-stained overall
works around his racing car
with single-minded passion
that defies everything

she sits in the shade with a book-
reading with absorption

when heat gets to him
the overall is off
sweat trickles down
highlighting his tattoos

she steals a glance-
watches the play of muscles

he feels it too-
measures that intensity
through his own flared feeling
teeters up from his work

her book drops, pages dog-ear
with baited breath, she waits for him

isn't it all so ideal-
her tattooed male smells of mobile oil,
sweat, and flared desire
she succumbing to it all

Clover, Bee and Reverie: A Poetry Challenge

For all those who read poetry, this is a good challenge to read poetry. There are four levels and you can join any. Check out, Clover, Bee and Reverie: A Poetry Challenge, for more info and do join in.

The challenge will go through 12/31/2010.

Here are the four levels of participation:

Couplet: Read 2 books of poetry

Limerick: Read 5 books of poetry, and finish at least one badge

Octave: Read 8 books of poetry, and finish at least two badges

Sonnet: Read 14 books of poetry, and finish two badges, and one expert badge

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I will go for the Octave level. My tentative list of poetry books are:

1) Selected Poems by Robert Lowell (1917-1977)
2) Renascence and Other Poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892–1950)
3) Thirst: poems By Mary Oliver
4) Becoming The Villainess by Jeannine Hall Gaily
5) At the Threshold of Alchemy by John Amen
6 Poetic Musings of an Old, Fat Man by Harry E. Gilleland, Jr.
7) Slamming Open The Door by Kathleen Sheeder Bonanno
8) The Essential Keats: Selected by Philip Levine

rays permeate

growing old with you-
incandescent emotions
aglow within my heart

convulsions cause chaos

studiously she avoids gazing in that direction
where he sits nonchalant, almost uncaring-
minds send out signals; silence so chilling,
picking up vibrations, she answers the question

being very still, with almost no expression,
she slowly stands with her eyes measuring
the distance, she glides toward his beckoning
mind. her heart beat, was by any indication

making her state, an object of ardent desire;
visible in her stance, in her jerky mannerisms.
smoldering flame, blazing; intense, luminous

pulling him in too; each bursting vein on fire
blowing apart their semblance, volumes
of convulsions still unseen, causing chaos

chugging train

I shoulder the sorrow
smile at the faces around me
the chugging train takes me along
my thoughts are miles away
you are gone
I regret not being with you
for the past decade-
brunt of it sits heavy

sudden jerking makes my coffee spill
I hardly feel it seeping through my thighs
when I see you next,
you will be under those stones.
my questions unanswered
lay prone in my mind
my heart is chilly
the train chugs along unmindful

When I get there
no one will know me
if they do,
I will hide from their prying eyes
by drawing into myself
now leave me alone
let me breath through the windows
the cold will deaden me, letting me sleep

"the train will chug along, come what may be'

WHATEVER! CUT OUT THOSE RIBBONS

I can't have mercy
I can't let it be
i can't let it go
I will mess with you
to monstrous extremity
with zeal, I will jolt you
WHATEVER! CUT OUT THOSE RIBBONS
jolted by my zeal-
extremely monstrous
this mess that you create
you have to let it go
but I can't let it be
as I never learnt mercy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A taunt thrown for Sir Silley!

now the waiting.....

any sound gets her to the window
she knows he isn't anywhere near
went back on his way
she misses the silence-
his silence that had made her mad
she wants it back
those highways, the small stops on the way
his tattoos on his biceps
his crooked hat
the smell of gasoline
his brusque caring
his facade cemented into her
she trembles with that memory
encloses it to her extremes

"was it for the best, or was it for the worst that wild trucker had taken over?'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My date with the trucker continues. Click on it to read the rest of it. All stand alone and yet are connected.

the saga continues

in that grecian urn,
Sr Silley burns
I put gasoline
along with limey beans
I think of tiny nibbles
over his poetic quibbles
yummy, I smack my lips
(while he bumps his burning hips)
I laugh at his fear,
he weeps over his fiery rear
I say, go baby go
don't be so slow
let the fire get you
let your face get more red than blue
I add a bit of wine
for that hateful s*ine.
oh my! my head pains
and in that instant it rains
all my plan go down the drains
Sir Silley is saved
and words to that effect are engraved
here lies the pseudo-poet, almost-
if only he had burnt to nice toast!

"thus our animosity continues with all shades of epic hues"

ghost's tongue

your tongue lashes out
electrifying words fall in-
new leaf shrivels up

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As I am a mere female, I can't write good verses. How can words come out when I am kind of busy primping my hair (whatever that means), doing my nails and all the other suff that females do? However, I will make Percy Bysshe Shelley (ghost of) eat his words. As he can't eat anything else (remember he is a ghost), words ought to revive him from his smelly grave. So much for supporting Sir Silley!

two zero one zero

two zero one zero
a year with two, one and two zeros
what difference does it make?
troubled world,
traumatic minds
this can't change with turn of the clock
here I sit and ruminate
about global warming
and unrest all round
I helplessly watch my creativity
pouring forth
from this self-destruction of humanity
stuck in the quagmire
going only deeper and deeper

out of nowhere
a childs' lilting laughter fills those zeros,
& reinforces the beauty that is life
I say it aloud yet again-
two zero one zero
a year with two, one and two zeros
it does have wings to fly and soar

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WIshing all my blogging friends a Very Happy Creative 2010!