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Tag Archives: intricacies

Sweet and sour, bonus of the hour. 9th of April 2013


foam & waves ©copyright2013owpp

foam & waves
©copyright2013owpp

Sweet and sour, bonus of the hour
————————————

Where have you gone
Where are the birdsongs
The spume and waves
Buckets and spades

Dried mouth
Crackled earth and drought
Speak to me
I want to see

Create out of vagary (1)
Tears, diamonds to be
Fatigue…strength unlaced
Poems, cascading grace

Suffering… laughter down the alley
All I want as an identity
Is to breathe through that song
Once you have gone

Crash with the waves
Sleep with buckets and spades
Fly where rivers speak
Where wind plays music

Where dawn breaks
On mountain peaks
And sun sets
Out of jealousy

Betrayed by night
Teased out of sight
What nonsense do I speak
When words glide into me!

Needs a lot of polishing
To make this poem neat
Where have you gone
Just spoke to me

Come! Haunt my dreams
I need you to be
Not understand
Life’s intricacies

Sweet and sour
Bonus of the hour

It is as perfect as can be!

(1) Vagary.
Caprice.
Extravagant notion or action.

Families… April 2010


©copyright2013owpp

©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

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 🙂