Tag Archive: poems of hope


I’m talkin’ self-indulgent blues,
ramblin’ and a-rolling along,
on cobblestones,
here and there along the alleyways of this life,

seeking not much,
as such,

a few scattered smiles,
after all the miles,
more open roads, less clogged strife,

caravan-serais of hope,
of peace,
where the din briefly does cease,

where simple ways,
of bygone days,

seem cooler than the respite of the shade,
as ages pale,

and as words fade,

I’m still a-walkin’ alone,
flotsam and jetsam blurring my eyes,

as sand gets kicked and the dust flies,
my heart thrashed against cold stone,

while the mirage persists,
the promise of free skies,

still,
just there,
within reach,

slipping further into myself,
as the floodgates breach,

so don’t worry about me no more,

I’m still a-ramblin’ and a-rolling,

and know this too,
for it be true,

it is you,
who remains,

after moulted skin falls,
when the closing walls,
squeeze my straightjacket,

threatening to seal my fate,
into a vacuum-shrunk packet,

no, don’t worry about me no more,
my head is upright,
though my soul may be sore,

but I’m still a-ramblin’ and a-rollin’,

with you,

immersed deep in my core,
forever more …

fool’s corner

tongues dripping language surreal,

rendering eyes, heavy-lidded, glazed,

skidding, incomprehensible,

into the yawning unreal,

scores of ears deafened by words,
deadened by sentences,

inured by scribbles,

that conceal,

love, loss, work, and the sycophantic drool,

intravenously pumped,
through highways,
byways,
              alleyways,
staggering,
beneath the glare of lights,
bright, cruel,

dismissed, despatched,
zealously grinning, winning, sinning,

relegated to the corner of the fool.

fingers.

entwined,
                 murmuring silent caresses,
                scribbling gibberish,

high above the cresting hopes,
            awash,
                        engulfed,
in the deluge,

of softly soaked-monsoon kisses,

adrift,
           free,
                   fingers, entwined,

teasing responses,
                           enmeshed, fused, between undulating waves,
            crashing,
                            within,
                                        our wordless universe,

in unison,
                 fingers entwined,
our oneness,
                      together, now,

presently,
                 present,

like ribbons and bows,
wrapped,

intermingling amidst shades,
                                   merging into hue,

breathing each other,
                                      in,

all of me,
                all of you.

when you kissed me

when you kissed me,
beneath our african skies,

fattened drops of nectar – heavenly rain,
like honeyed-corn,
fell upon us,
blurring our eyes,

drenching you,
and i,

together, momentarily,
and eternally,
perennially,
immeasurably,

though perhaps still,
’twas illusory,

a sliver of time,
razor-edged, real,

perched between:

passionate reason,

&

desirous rhyme.

on time: the big deal

another new years eve,
that time,

the big deal, the hype,
balloons,
               fireworks,
                                feasts,

the big deal, the razzmatazz,
getting sozzled,

new years eve ?

               

           is this the price,

the label,

                the tag,

        the bottom-line ?

moulting the skins, the shedding of the masks, the casting away, not off, of times’ collected detritus,

no.

that old shot in the arm,
the morale-boosting, fix-it in-a minute happy fuzzy fix,

fortifying the chattel,

           rebuilding the ramparts,

solidifying strategies,

defences,
                 in the trenches,

work,
          life,
                 &,
                    perhaps ‘love’ ?

no,
not that lie.

peddle it not to me.

not anymore.

image

😇:)

bidding another year adieu

and when i see,
breathe her, her softness a whisper away,

she knows the ache, i fear,
of wanting,
needing perhaps,
the feeling of feeling dear,

not much,
soothing warmth,
enveloped,

our warmth, a light autumn shawl,

her fingers, mine,
tracing sketches, scribbles,
our waltzing fingers entwined,

shedding this year that wasn’t, or hardly was at all,

like so, so many yesteryears,

now long passed,

quietly, threading catacombs crumbling into dust,

gently, reverently,
laying it down, leaving it all far, far behind,

a few shared moments,
of gentleness, warmth, solace,

of pure, innocent, delicious, alluring promise of bliss,

so rare,
            priceless, almost,
           
            almost,
            too rare to find … …

image
image

times’ grating

           sandpaper
           in my eyes

without seeing much
         yet having seen:

you.

and you
              are
                    all i need to see … …

image

’tis been an eternity,
since i met you,

your eyes,
                 into whose deep
                 depths,
                 cascading within,

                 i would gladly
                 drown,

plummeting into,
all of you,

within you,
your thoughts,

your dreams,

your
waking
fantasies,

oh i would indeed,
if these were not mere scribbles,
                 empty, hollow,

bereft of hope,
entombed in sorrow … … …

🙂

image

on the futility of time …

on the futility of time …

                     one more chiselled notch
                           carved in my heart

          drawing blood
          raw wounds
          cauterised  

          just as

         another year
                                creeps
          slithers
                                 crawls
          into

          another year … … …

breathless

                 

              breathless

laboured
               tortured

each breath
                     swallowed

greedily gulping gasping

each breath
                    stolen
                               without you

… … … … … … …

there may be no answer,
from you,
from times’ tick-tocking rhymes,

and,
it matters not,

not anymore,

for,
i would truly be blind,

were i not to feel a lost sliver of a breath,

of hope,
elusive,
impossible,
alluring,
addictive …

so i bid you farewell, for now,

but,
who knows,

perhaps,

our paths may,

someplace, sometime,
seek each others’,

however difficult,
those paths may appear,

we may,
yet, still meet,

as sure as this approaching dawns’ hopeful light,

dispels the bleakness,

of yet another lonesome night … … … … … …

a new year beckoning …

a new year beckons, thusly a scribble on trodding onwards 🙂

we have been hurt,
battered by time,
by fate,

we have been stung,
by harsh tongues wagging,

words,
            words,
                        hollow,
  meaningless,
                         harsh tirades borne, colder words, mere words,
            spoken,

meant to jab,
                       prod,
ceaseless,
                 until spirits are torn,
                
                        broken …

   
   

… still,
           we endure,

    still,
           we hope,

for,
      we may be lashed.     against fates’ ropes,

    still,
           we endure,

we cling on,
                     to dreams,
                     shared hopes,

for,

we shall rise,
            
              staggering perhaps,

                but standing,
                never kneeling,

however painful,
                              or sorrowful,

times may be,
for we shall stand,

if,
   if,

we are together,
offering each other,

a warm, soothing hand … …

image

your strength
                          your resolve

your resilience
                          your warmth

real
       tangible
                       fiery

sparks
            afloat
                      in
                          the
                                 wind

                      unshackled
                     free

to soar
            boundless skies

    and i

          who have shared
                monents
                                 or two,

             lost
                    blinded

were it not for you

           gentleness sublime

shared

            in stolen moments

my unseeing gaze meeting

deep
         inviting eyes …

manic me

manic me … …

momentary desolation, fleeting, instantaneous manoeuvring, shifting gears,

creasing years,
hollowed out, spent,
pummeled bluebrown,
barrage of blunt tears,

blinded by fears,

but not today, not now:

today, now,
dreams soar,

of hopeful, peaceful,
less harsh, more gentle years …

image

the illusion of control

the illusion of control …

image

… so, life happens,
our infinitesimal plucking of strings,
somehow brings,
an idea, a glimmer of hope,
of control, an illusion really,

of just sort of kind of knowing on the whole,
just how the paths we dream up, are to be tread,

and so,

we weave, we dance,
oblivious to the fickle whims of chance,

we joust, parrying jabs,
picking at wounds,
scratching under scabs,

seeking this, that, whatever,
speeding on highways bound for never,

wearing our hearts on our sleeves, baring all, unashamed,

emotional sentimentality fluttering amongst dead autumn leaves,
starkly transparent,

yearning for that early ache,
that wondrous sensuality of synapses, sparking,
inflaming that early rush,

leaving me numbed,
in my shallow sewer, impotent and dumbed,

wasting away, lost in the well,
where no pebble ripples back

      ___________________

(brb)

(got to let the cat out for reasons only the cat knows)

     ___________________

so where we,
before the cat’s bells began to tinkle,
thankfully not toll,

ah yes,

the illusion of control … …

for Dr. Carl Sagan
1934 – 1996

hope resists!

hope resists …

pain surrounds, closes in,
encircles raw wounds,

picks at scabs,
freshly coagulated,

while stubborn, impertinent, brash, young, ancient hope,

persists,
resists,

as it has,

&

as it shall!

human – merely human

human. merely human …

Mere beings flailing through the quagmire of this life,

Embroiled in this world of emptiness so stark,

Hoping against hope that we find some solace, some peace,

As we stumble along in the fearfulness of the dark,

What are we if not just human…

Grappling with the incessant torturous grind,

The stab of reality that wounds us each day,

While we endure and persevere and with hollow platitudes,

Try to placate ourselves with the veneer of strength which we always portray,

What are we if not just human…

Embracing the world with all the trappings of its convenience,

Deluding ourselves that the trappings will dull the pain,

While innuring ourselves to the outer truths that do surround us,

As we lose ourselves within our very selves,

While we gleefully celebrate the meaningless ornaments that we gain,

What are we if not just human…

Just human,

simply human,

nothing much more and no less,

Praying and hoping for a salvation beyond this realm,

As we attempt to buy redemption with our false gods and our loftily mouthed intent,

While we crawl through the moments of apathy and moral inebriation,

Never truly grasping the very essence of what is to be simply content,

What are we if not just human…

Trying and trying and still trying some more,

To make sense of the senselessness that we feel inside,

While in truth the masks that we wear,

Shroud us more from our very selves, for it so often seems that it is from ourselves, that we choose to hide,

What are we if not just human…

Though we cling on to the scraps of hope that we find here and sometimes there,

What are we if not just human…

If we cannot stop, and think,

and begin to once again to,
simply care,

What are we if not just human…

And in knowing that we are just human,

rekindling the humanity that must reside in us all,

That refuses to smile and stand aloof, while others around us slip and fall,

What are we if not just human…

Finding our feet, as we trudge along the pathways of this life that seems so harsh and at times unbearable too,

What are we if not just human…

If we cannot see in ourselves,

the images of him and of her and of us all,

the images of me and of you…

remember history

remember history

1.

remember the slave-ships,
the manacles,
the trade in human flesh,
sweat and bone,

‘niggers’

senegal liberia sierra leone …

2.

remember the genocide,
the smallpox blankets,
the decimation of many entire peoples,

‘injuns’

sioux, cheyenne, cherokee …

2.1.

( and everything in between )

3.

remember the lies,
WMD,
the invasion,
illegal under international law,
of a country that somehow happens to be rich in oil,
and ruled by an old friend-turned-foe,
you know how these things go,

‘operation iraqi freedom’

iraq …

4.

remember the lawmakers,
of the greatest nation on earth,
who voted to deny human-beings asylum,

‘sand-niggers’

syrian, iraqi …

R E M E M B E R
H I S T O R Y

live life now

live life now

clutching, grasping,
holding onto,

gulping down, hungrily,
each breath, every breath,

fearing the onset of the years,
the splinters of time

embedding,
piercing,

this moment, the very now,

numbed by repetition,
embalmed by trepidation,

of tomorrows yet to dawn,

suspiciously sifting through the strands of greying hair,

seeking clues,
the because to the whys,

the slow mornings,
restless nights,

jabbing reminders,
as years, decades,

scurry, scamper,
flee,
feeling it all slipping away,

standing, immobile,
stilled by the implacable sentinels at the doorstep,

these immovable sentries,
concealing the door,

that leads to today

migrant feet

bleeding feet

image

bare,
alien,
calloused feet,

that bleed,

trudging,
scraping souls,

seeking paths that lead,

somewhere,

anywhere from here,
from the horror of the now,

wiping bloody sweaty tears,
of grandmothers’ brow,

seeking refuge, sanctuary,

from bullets,

from epithets that wound,
that slay,

from men, always men,

puffed-up, inflated,
stuffed with raw venomous hate,

to be flotsam and jetsam,
adrift on the seas,

crammed into boxes,
clutching onto every choked breath,

seeking another fate,

not an asphyxiated blueish death,

tossed, seasick,
wracked and pained,

inside,
cattle-cars, slave-ships,

modernised mechanised terror,

the horror of self-righteous zeal,

nations, cultures,
tribes, traditions,
creed,

stoking the flames,
sectarian, communal,

the fuel on which bigotry must feed …

tiny feet, old and cracked,
all kinds of blistered twisted feet,

a death march along the treelined street,

seeking only alleyways of peace,

and,
perhaps,
perhaps, a bite to eat,

as gleaming chariots roll on by,

and if you’re thinking you’re safe,

if you’re thinking it isn’t us, its them,

him, her, they, those people,

for now,

think again,
and think how,

“… first they came for the communists … ” *

      
           _____________

* Pastor Martin Niemoller

http://tinyurl.com/oo45esm

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