If I could, I’d write for you a rainbow.
And splash it with all the colors of God.
And hang it in the window of your being.
So that each new God’s morning.
Your eyes would open first……
To hope and promise.
If I could, I’d wipe away your tears.
And hold you close forever in shalom.
But God never promised I could write a rainbow,
Never promised I could suffer for you,
Only promised I could love you,
That I do.
If walls could talk,
they’d hear a man
breathing all alone
as he stares longingly
out the window
watching a young robin
build her cozy nest
for a family quickly coming.
If walls could talk,
they’d hear the shuffle
of routine feet
assisting the man
from the chair to bed
and back again,
and the barrage of insults
issuing from a man
exhausted from sitting
for so long.
If walls could talk,
they’d hear an old man
fumble with his phone,
punching in the only
number he knows,
waiting and hoping
to hear her voice.
“Maybe tonight,”
they hear him whisper,
but they know the truth,
that number’s been
disconnected for three years
and it’s only the dementia
keeping the old man’s
love and drive alive
in this quiet nursing home.
If walls could talk,
they might say,
“I’m sorry
your robin’s flown away,
but it’s ok to let go
and fly too”
An awakening to dawn mist on the water,
flowing Spirit’s streams to God’s altar,
purifying essence whistles through the trees,
images of the sacred blowing in the breeze.
Flights of fancy from birds up high,
feathers of many colors filtering through the sky,
sun, moon and stars envelops Earth’s dome,
we’re all birds of a feather, finding our way home.
Spectacle of mesmerizing movements flashing in the mind,
melting pots of humans, secrets hard to find,
love all embracing whispers on the wind,
no physical presence, ecstasy from a light dimmed.
Gifts of joy enmeshed in music and dance,
visualizing images filtering in a trance,
warriors in a drumbeat at journeys end,
back to the womb of creation enmeshed in a substance blend.
Wondrous dreams in the stillness of the dark,
journey on uplifting voyages in paradise park,
thunder and lightening points the way,
a prelude to the land where Soul’s play.
Author poet philosopher
It’s been 30 or 40 days
At this point what’s the difference
An hour more a minute less
The silence sticks to me like a wool sweater, hot and uncomfortable
Bubbling over with every thought
Every doubt all competing in a race
For my full attention and the finish line
I feel fine
Just noticing how much these walls echo
Every step on these creaky wood floors
Louder than the last
You sure seem to have adapted well
Folding laundry, cooking, cleaning
Like any other day
I admire your ability to withstand it all
Thankful our daughter & son have you
Thankful my silence doesn’t overwhelm your strength
As it does mine
I want to rip the sweater off
But change is a process and I take my time with everything
For now I’ll comfort myself in the laughter echoing from our children
In the sunlight
Beaming through the window
And the uncharacteristic silence of our NYC street
So quiet you can hear the birds sing
I never noticed how many of them
Line up on the tree adjacent to our window
Flitting from one branch to the next
Like any other day
by Melissa Calderon-Rougié
andwhenshesings.wordpress.com
I understand why you died tonight
why the devil grew his tail
as your mind became frail,
why the sky mistook him for an angel.
Vienna and Bruges, and all that is smooth —
when toe meets foreshore;
dark chocolate, the Louvre.
Of nard and koi, and all that is joy —
sparkling streams of cygnets,
hard liquor, soft toys.
And now for the news.
Lead ties to shank
surfeit from the crapulous,
there are those who wait for the
summer to fall
there are those who act
when tablet mountain calls,
who torched the trellis
watched the wind make it crawl
it’s hard when no-one knows
where no-one goes
behind your wall.
Love letters i hold close to heart
Papers tainted with signature scents of you and I
Time and distance, counted as days to miss one and no other
Goodbye hugs tighter and reconcilation hugs deeper
Skin and sheets made the lovers sweeter
Happiness is kind and love is a keeper
and you say it means keep her
Keep her love, read her smiles and make beauty stay forever
Kisses meant, its you
Flowers say always.
Words held truth
Actions bore honor.
Truly blessed as true believers
My old soul travelled so far in time
Millenials believe love is telepathic
Fairytales lie, and they vibe
Absorb my love, It surrounds me but its not in me
Worship do not adore, they crave obsession
Hold my hair up while i throw up
Sick signs of true love.
Lets share bad habits, and say loving has evolved.
The very core of love they corrupt
They can’t even comprise on something so simple as color
They call hiding freedom of expression
Expressing love weakness of the subconscious
They propose with flare and disbelief
Romance is denied or dead
I tell them romance is not sex.
They say stay single then, one night stands is a trend.
The circle is vicious,but people like us don’t bend
No matter what lives,they have been given.
We know, knowing the universe
Designate souls meets wherever they may be
In their mordern world what’s meant to be will be.
She is my beloved,
Whom I love indeed.
The sacred ideals have been buried,
That I wish men dig hurried.
she has drowned her texts,
in evil-free oceans.
The scholar bathes in stream of texts,
That flow through education.
He kisses the aesthetic ideals,
That came from the great mind.
She knows no death,
And no wars could steal her wrath.
The art sows saplings of humanity,
That bloom in heart of men without vanity.
And I smile with similes and play with personification,
I dine with diction and cry with characterization.
I melt with motif,
And I nurture my soul with narrative.
I have sucked the pill of madness ,
On literature in kindness.
And it is the bad subject of my relations,
Upon whose tongue it lays waste.
For it, I apologize you my dear,
Now let those sicked ears hear.
The lines of your art are the well-cooked biriyani,
That melt deep in the whispering stomach.
Your body has flowered the bunch of righteous,
That mentor the humanity in priceless.
Your pride has unscalable path,
As the great wall of China hath.
Some taste the fruit of it,
Some waste it on innocence as unfit.
The elixir of ideas it gives men,
That travel on minds amid demon.
Drug dealers are the deepest thoughts of it,
That faint me and feed me merit.
The art that has killed social evils,
Race, class and other unequals.
The sailors on it,
Has looked the wind of humanity.
If not, they are pseudo sailors,
On whom she never unveils her.
Some false followers among the greats lay,
Who make her preaching disobey.
And shall the crown of good sit on her head,
And shall rule the mind of good and bad.
Dear God, bless me to clutch her hand,
That shall give society the cherished changes with writing wand.
-M.S. Muhammad Nowfal
The book is bound.
The spine is riveted with glue.
The glue is not marrow, or flour,
but the calcium of grief.
At first, the spine begins to fray –
persecuted by well-read tears.
Now is the time of semper:
The long atom between day
and night when lovers pronounce kiss.
Then the book unbinds as love
unbuttons its petal stomacher.
At last, the Fall of the scattered page.
Soon there is only Fingal,
lost in his brief library
as the day comes to incarnadine.
(C) All Rights Reserved
Story of minority , hidden from the “reality”
Stay in, stay apart, stay away,
As the news flashed,
Chills went though the heart.
Mind rushed, as
Panic mode activates.
Day and night, updates flow out.
No pay, no money no nothing, everything dries out!
No food, the shops ran out
No home, the lessee kicked us out
Mother calls day in and day out
Where are you, come home now,
Making ama cry her heart out!
We need to go back, figure this out, as
Our battle has ended in a rout!!
We grabbed food, some clothes for the way.
She slipped on her slippers,
Buckled herself,
Strapped our son close to her.
And we take off.
No vehicles in sight, flight?
Nevermind, it has been far from our reach!
Thanking god for these strong feet each,
We walked, stopped, breastfed,
Restarted, stopped, fed on noodles, biscuits
My hopes killed with every stop
Nights fall in, if lucky shelter a tree, or blacktop it will be
Rain falls in we shelter again below a tree
Choose the jungle’s path, primarily, As
Tigers, bears, wolves, concerned us least
Cold, hunger and despair were the real beast!
We passed through a village today
Stomach rumbled, our agony on display!
Like a rain to a farmer, echoes a voice,
” where do you come from?” the angle said
“kathmandu, hajur”
Asked us wait, calls his wife,
She comes out with plate full of rice.
And says “He has yet to bring out milk for your son”
Grateful as we were, our words went shy.
Offered our thankful namaste with tearful eye
Recommence the journey,
7 days in, pass the half way, nearly
All we had was 1 pack of noodle, and
A 100rs bill and that was that.
Today we were accompanied
With people with similar pain and stories.
We all were afraid to be stopped
Via the uniform
Now and then we hide or flee, it was the norm.
To avoid it, we walked through the jungle
Pass through creaking bridge, as river flows under.
Bloody feet, was paid no heed
One after another, passes day after night.
We don’t even have bones for us to eat.
We licked the salt, chewed the sugar.
And finally we entered another village.
To beg for food shamelessly.
One more jungle, one more town and this last turn,
Reaching my home, place I was born.
The words spread that we had made
Closer I am, restless I get
Jittery like a child anticipates his gift.
There stood my ama, like my dreams had potrayed.
Old lady, looked worried, thin and in pain
With eyes full of fears, replaced now with happy tears
Her magical touch, removed my anguish and horror.
At last, all of us together!!
We had no money, no nothing
But we have a house, bright with light that we can lit
Stomach warmed with food, and body has quilt
Heart overwhelmed with love that we have built.
Finally inside the home, back with our shield!
We washed away our body’s dirt, blood and sweat.
Realising we earn our daily wage with all this,
For most others have it a lot better!
Please be grateful
As you look and hear about people like us
People surviving below the line, We’re:
Thrown out of homes,
Neglected by nation,
Gone through hardship
And we learnt our lesson,
That a mere virus had no way of killing us, as
Hunger and poverty will take us first.
-Kaushika Acharya (K. A)
Story of Nepal, and people below the poverty line.
Life is but a journey
a journey is but a race.
A race does not determine
the color of your face.
In the Universal lot of life,
you will pick the mode that
Best suits your race.
The mode you choose
is the most perfect one in its place.
Some races will be far;
some races will be short.
Some cars will go fast;
some cars will go slow.
Some cars will be big and loud
like volcanos, vroom vroom.
Some cars will be long and low
like the sea, swish swish.
Some cars will have special needs;
some cars will do special deeds.
Some cars will be red, brown, white, black and blue
pink and yellow and purple too.
No matter what color you choose
Mother Earth will undoubtedly love you.
In The Race of Life, we will learn to sing our ABC’s
sing along with me: abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz
now we learned our ABC’s wont you sing them again with me?
Some learn them fast; some will learn them slow.
Some will sing them loud; some will sing them low.
In The Race of Life, we will learn to count
Car one, car two, car three…
No matter how many cars you can count
be sure to always count on me.
Some cars will be shaped like triangles.
Some cars will be shaped like rectangles.
Some cars will be shaped like hex a…GONE
try to catch him if you can!
In The Race of Life, you will choose the best way to win your race.
Be it very fast or very slow, or reach your goal line in a completely different mode.
“Hey looking fly Maxi”
What matters is that you keep your little engine on,
hands on your steering wheel, lots of fuel in your tank
and eyes on the road. Get ready, get set…go!
The Race of Life is not about how many cars you can beat,
but about overcoming Life’s unexpected defeats.
If you decide to drive very fast, slow down from time to time,
smell the flowers on road, cruise by the lakes, the valleys and the shores.
Don’t forget to laugh and love out loud as you chill on cruise control.
The Stars, the Sun the Moon and the Sky want you to know,
that no matter the road block, you continue to gO Go GO.
Buckle up and enjoy the ride.
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