A closer dark encircles me I find it harder to shake it off the achromatic pewter dusk-dawn-sky deepens to a coal blackness
regrets-strewn night descends icily I singe my fingers as I reach out to the moon all I wanted was a sip of cold winter to damp down despair with numbing coldness
as the night begins to wear down touched by the gentle golden fingers of the sun the hedgerows birds suddenly begin to sing I sit shivering and stuporous, with my sullen loneliness
Light alights on my sagging shoulders lightening the burden of fears I carry making light of the quilt of pain around me and I shed my weariness.
Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Sarah, has asked us to write about light.
Painting by Edward William Cooke, Venice, A November Evening in the Lagoon (1859)
The gelid golden glow of dusk hides in its bosom tears of blood the schooner is finally set to sail far-off lands beckon with fervour
hiding in its bosom tears of blood untold stories of separation and love far-off lands beckon with fervour restless heart beats to the rhythm of the seas
untold stories of separation and love burnished memories like a beacon of hope restless heart beats to the rhythm of the seas remembering the pain reflected in teary eyes
burnished memories like a beacon of hope in the gelid golden glow of dusk remembering the pain reflected in teary eyes the schooner is finally set to sail.
Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Merril, has invited us to write an ekphrastic poem to some very interesting paintings.
Last night, like most previous nights, elusive peace sat at the bottom of the bottle looking at me with the same pensive eyes an enticing smile on her amber lips the ebb and flow of discontent that was capped within begged to be emptied such prayers are not meant to be denied I relieve her from tumult every night.
Written for dVerse poetics. Today I am the host and we are writing a poem which is connected to drinking. Read about it here.
No Two letters One word A complete sentence Period A “NO” needs no suffix No prefix No explanation. A no is a no is a no Get it !!!
Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Sarah, says:
As we’re here, in mid- November, I thought it might be fun to pay tribute to Thomas Hood’s poem. Just in case I get a resounding “no” from you, here are some options:
1. You could take a line from this poem and use it as springboard for a new poem. Golden shovel it, or use it as the first line – or even the title.
2. Just say no. There’s something you want to take a stand against, something you want to stand up and say “NO!” to. Maybe it’s pollution or global warming, or something political, or the way your next door neighbour plays prog rock at full blast at 3am. Whatever it is, get it out of your system and into a poem!
(I’ve gone with the 2nd option.)
My husband is home after sailing for six months. As a result my writing and reading will be a bit more erratic and sporadic than before. Please bear with me.
The Lonely Lady moved with stately stature unrelenting against the unforgiving sea valiantly weathering wuthering waves under the cataclysmic colour of night
the gales of November battered it from all sides yet it battled on, refusing to be swept away the waves broke over the railing the derricks, the anchor; all were creaking
with a grim look on his face and his hand on the helm for hours the captain remained rock steady he had faced the inclement seas earlier too but never seen it turn fifty shades of grey
but the hurricane did not tire of whistling endlessly it whined and moaned, singing a dirge then one last time the wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound with one last hiccup, under the Cherry Moon, the Lonely Lady went down.
Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Lillian, has given us a list movies that were awarded Razzies and asked us to include atleast one title in our poem. Here’s the list.
Shining Through (1982) The Lonely Lady (1983) Under the Cherry Moon (1986) Cocktail (1988) Indecent Proposal (1993) Color of Night (1994) Showgirls (1995) The Postman (1997) Battlefield Earth (2000) Swept Away (2002) Catwoman (2004) I Know Who Killed Me (2007) Fifty Shades of Grey (2015)
The words in bold are the titles I have incorporated.
I was listening to The Wreck of Edmund Fitzgerald, when I sat down to write this poem. The words in italics are from the song and my tribute to my favourite artist, Gordon Lightfoot.
Our large home was run over with guests most of whom I had neither seen nor met but such was the force of personality of my grandfather people from far- flung areas had come to pay him last respects.
Mild-mannered but with a spine of steel a connoisseur of food a stern dad but a doting grandfather his passion for movies, he persued with zeal.
My mom was running around harried and tired making everyone comfortable, bone-weary though she was dad was red-eyed yet composed coming to terms with the fact, his father had expired.
Though surrounded by women, grandmother was all alone being commiserated over her loss she was a feisty woman but that day she sat silent and distant, as if carved out of stone.
There were scores of children, running all over unaware of the gravity of situation elders tried to keep them quiet but those tykes were no pushovers.
Since last night when grandfather had passed away no one in the immediate family had eaten a morsel he was of the ripe old age of ninety so a grand feast (after his cremation) was underway.
The priest called for my uncle; the eldest son as preparations for final rites were being made everyone looked high and low where could he have disappeared, for this was just not done!
Upset at his absence, my grandmother bellowed his name out came he from the pantry, all flustered his mouth stuffed, naan in his hand contrite and embarrassed; his face red with shame
“I just went to check that the seasoning is alright”, he stuttered as grandfather’s favourite food was being prepared uncle’s rumbling stomach couldn’t resist the aromas and he had reached for the hot naan buttered!
All gathered burst into stifled smirking fits shaking their heads and clucking in disapproval my grandmother too could not help smiling my uncle, too flabbergasted to gather his wits.
My practical grandmother immediately made an announcement there and then, putting her grief aside henceforth there would be no fasting in our family come death or any other bereavement.
Thanks to my uncle and his insatiable hunger on that somber day of cremation at every solemn occasion of death in the family with a smile as homage, our grandfather we all remember.
Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Mish, has asked us to write a poem commemorating a loved one we have lost, in the spirit of Dia De Los Muertos, the “Day of the Dead”.
*According to our scriptures, cremation cannot take place after sunset. As long as the dead body is at home, fire cannot be lighted, hence no cooking. Thus neighbours and friends chip in and bring food and beverages for the bereaved family till the cremation takes place.
Cumulous clouds casually claim the pewter skies haze hangs around the horizon aimlessly stars sulkily scatter haphazardly all conspiring to delay the moon rise sighting
Dressed in glorious berry red hands decorated with henna her melodic eyes filled with untold stories she awaits for a glance of the traveller too aware of the heavens’ mischief making
Finally the blood moon makes an appearance matching her attire and her wan smile both following the path laid for them unquestioning, unflinching soul sisters sharing stories at night.
Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Sarah, has asked us to write a moony poem inspired by the various names of the moon for the month of October. I have also used some words from Jane’s random word generator.
Last week, in India Karwa chauth was celebrated( inspiring this poem). You can read about it here.
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