The ones we never knew & the creation to where it all begins

the bliss of moments
©copyright2013owpp

Many years ago, I heard on the radio horrific news which left a scar in my memory never to be erased.

As always my only way out was to pick up my pen and let the pages soak the muddle of emotions and tears running havoc in my mind with no escape… they jumped out like cooped up horses after a long freezing winter and found in the spaces and margins some sort of quietude which I am going to share with you today.

May we live in a world where we unite our energies to build our dreams.

Horror & waste, sorrow & grief of
Calcinated lives, burned felicity.
Committing the irreparable with
No second thought…

Anguish at no time erased nor shafted.
A rock erodes ne’er intense souvenir
Of a family, an entity, a world..

There is no deterioration to the shared
Recollection of the close yet distant.
The smile, the tender caress of words.
Innocence of life just begun.
__ __ __ __ __ __

Incomprehensible recklessness,
Consequences of actions & pain
Henceforth as a shadow till no day ends.

Those souls where lullabies, cuddles &
Mummy were pursued to the furnace…
Promising future… educating her jewels
Oblivious to the unfathomable turn of fate

Embracing her angels, frozen in the eternal
Love-position. Boundless uncalculated
Generosity engraved in our memories forever
__ __ __ __ __

Coming away empty yet plethoric with this
Paragon of virtue…mundane words to describe
What rhymes with nothing. Madness to which we
Succumb to construe the baseness, depravity

To destroy.We lost those we never knew. It
Could be he, me or you…helpless yet praying
For lucidity & humanity to tip the scale.

Appreciating & discerning the bliss of moments
Palpating, investing in the forces of courage
The powers of soundness by edifying the
Element of our fount & demonstrating affection

And respect toward where it all begins… (1)
The ones we love most…

Our family.

(1) The creation of a better world

Advertisement

Supermum… An old classic and a good laugh :)

Lead.Learn.Live posted this tremendous video for mother’s day. We had such a good laugh at it
That I couldn’t resist to post it and bring out the humoristic side in the role
of all mothers!
Enjoy 🙂

Our most prized-May 1995 adjusted on January 2013

distances…

This poem was inspired by the disadvantages of distances separating us from…

Our most prized
——————–

The need, the warmth
Living so far apart
Precious time wasted
Each preoccupied

With their lives
Working day in
Day out, slipping
Into the bed of

A satisfying day
Yet nostalgia
Seeping…
———

Stealing eventually
Into a few suitcases
Memories and laughter
Till it bursts so we

Will not go missing…
Wait, count the months,
Days… To cozen distance (1)
Bargain again

And pack a rod
Of love from
Our most prized…

————

(1)
coz•en
v. coz•ened, coz•en•ing, coz•ens
v.tr.
1. To mislead by means of a petty trick or fraud; deceive.
2. To persuade or induce to do something by cajoling or wheedling.
3. To obtain by deceit or persuasion.
v.intr.
To act deceitfully.
________________________________________
[Perhaps from Middle English cosin, fraud, trickery.]

Families… April 2010

©copyright2013owpp

Families…
———

Families are intricate unities that assemble fragments of love, which they could easily discard if ego steps in.
Usually in a situation fabricated by their own imagination.
Families weave their own history, gluing it together with the substance called love hoping it will withstand the hazards of time.
Some families withhold the pressures of life by staying even closer. Practicing compassion, tolerance and love as a shining example for the world to witness.
Interacting with noble qualities as, finesse, integrity, virtue, righteousness, purity and above all a desire for true cohabitation.
They let their ego aside, seek and invite truth in, practicing patience and understanding in situations, others would have long buckled under.

Bursting as an olive seed, under the weight of a millstone. Grinding to its last drop.
How many of these “torches” illuminate our planet?
I wonder. Are they one percent? If they are, they should be standing high and proud. As the lighter of an Olympic flame.
Given a medal.
Instead, they are kept in the quiet. They tiptoe in the labyrinths of life and succeed to find a way out of this maze and convert it to beautiful alleys.
Some of them, growing an orchard on their way, with the promises of sweetness as a perquisite for having played a role in the grandeur of a king’s quarters.
Their children’s devotion, are their pride and badges. They take no heed in titles or honors.
They cherish the warmth of past memories and amuse themselves at keeping them alive by recalling them to their grandchildren, on long winter nights, a twinkle in their eyes, a spark in their heart and a smile on their lips.
Then, go on, feeding, on their children’s silent recognition, translated by small tokens. A gesture, a look, a hug and most of all, loving respect.
Are we aware of the importance of our each and every move?
As situations reveal themselves before our eyes, we are given a mind and heart to consult. The gift of introspection.
Do we use them wisely?
We have the freedom and dignity of choice. We could make an everlasting impression for generations to come. Leave our “trade mark“.
Is that not worth its weight in gold? Should it not give us a rush to strive toward that goal?
We could give up our self-made miseries and feed the younger generation with tender care.

Behave with consistency and rationality in order to provide them with the much needed security and balance in their lives so, as to prepare them on THEIR journey and pack their suitcases for the long road, with, stability, strength and joy. All vital tools in their jobs to shape a few generations to come.

And so it goes…

Building a non-ending chain of character, beauty and light.
In the hope, it will brighten the world and eradicate any dark shades left by the person…

Who thought he had no choice.

In the act of writing March 2011

Eiffel tower wheels
©copyright2013owpp

This essay was one of my assignments and was written in a tongue-in-cheek manner,
I do not take myself that seriously 🙂 It was about describing oneself in the act
of writing, which I called just that…

In the act of writing
—————–

I usually prepare an assignment long in advance.
Plotting, collecting information, mincing, digesting the style that is about to be born.
Yet, today, I come as ludicrously bare as can be.
I stare at a white immaculate sheet of paper and ponder at the outrageous idea of writing, as a working exercise, as opposed to a burst of fervid passion.
Or, to the growth of my imagination spilling forth in an overflow.
I am surrounded by dictionaries and thesauruses of all kind that, I trust, will unravel the mysteries of words and impel me to the creation of a literary magnificence.
Gilded rays of a timid autumn sun pierce through the remote glass window door, of the balcony, maintaining this room in perpetual darkness, keeping its occupants in sempiternal slumber throughout the seasons of the years.
Nevertheless, I find my mind juggling with phraseology, feeling like a choreographer bearing the conception of a chef-d’oeuvre.
I amalgate ideas, terms, observations and philosophies, in anticipation of a new era…
The creation of my magnum opus.
Hours slide by, in the stimulating atmosphere of reflection and contemplation and I see, merging from the profundity and intricacies of my brain, the outlines of what seems the sketches of an essay.
The gratification of my labor.
I hold dearly unto my chain of thoughts hushing anyone daring any resemblance of vicinity.
I toil away, inching my way through the haze and vasty of language, aware of a day coming to its end, as the sun retrieves its warmth, preparing itself to enlighten another part of the planet’s obscurities.
I close the chapter at its culmination, satisfied by the denouement, at peace by its genesis and in synchronization with the heartbeats of the universe.
I look around and become aware, au fait of stepping out of a different dimension.

All is still.

Everyone having left me to my occupations and busy with theirs, outdoors.
I am surprised to observe the constant rebirth of my soul at the completion of what I fantasize, is

the emergence of my prodigy 🙂