Visions of life poems x3
The esoteric poet, while essentially for the lofty, uplifting and sublime, can by nature write prose or poetry on everything. He/she does so by allowing himself/herself to become the flowing ink in the pen of the Great Artist Himself, and as such rests within, in a deep and tranquil solitude. These three poems are an attempt to deviate from my preferred subjects, and to mirror the more practical realities of nature and earthly life. I trust you find them useful.
Great Coffee, Youiow!
As the coffee works its way,
Down an eagerly anticipating, now blissful throat,
The digestive juices dance with delight.
With jaded nerves revived,
The cup of expresso caffeine,
Now awakens those sinewy muscles;
Tired limbs, and gives them life.
Ah! I am alive again!
The words of Peter standing next to me,
Suddenly makes sense; the chores of Sunday cleaning
Less laboriously becomes,
And a stomach now filled
With the make-believe illusions of my dark-stained Friend,
Finds it easier to circumvent a fog-filled brain. –Manatita 28/7/13.
Shades of Battersea Park, London, UK.
The drone of an aircraft drifts through the tall, sturdy trees,
Some yielding, others fierce with pride and holding their heads high.
Like a whirlwind, cyclists and skateboarders flash by,
As mothers with their babies in prams,
Hug the grass verge fiercely, to stay out of those riders way.
While the zephyrs kiss me refreshingly,
Ducks swim and speak out from a cool, still,
Invigorating and picturesque lake.
Across the bandstand and Central avenue,
The magnificent Pagoda towers over the nearby Thames,
Whose flowing consciousness, energises the passers-by.
All are here: walkers, joggers, runners …
The jubilant voices of the children can be heard,
As they swing and jump to the beat of a temporary Jurassic Park.
Ice-cream vendors peddle their craft,
As the tunes of their decorative vans beckon us.
While, not so far away, the dog-handlers and sport enthusiasts,
Seek meaning from the scented flowers, or happiness from their skills.
-Manatita 30th July, 2013.
Lost in despair
On the edge of the cliff, he stood,
Precariously swaying back and forth,
Full of emptiness and strife.
Long had he stood there.
As Almitra watched, not daring to go any closer,
In case he suddenly decided to jump on a manual bunjee.
Tears rolled down a gloom-filled faced,
Falling from tired eyes now laden with much grief.
Almitra, fearing what might be, crept stealthily closer,
As the saddened soul looked down, at the gorge-like crevice below.
He was about to jump,
When her hands made contact, and pulled him back. –Manatita 28/7/13.
