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Wakening

Part of the Passion series ...
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A Poem for a Girl I Knew in the 1990s

Reading Full Fathom Five.   Remembering you like a good wine.  But you left a bitter taste.  An after taste.  Oft I ran a finger down your spine.  Slim. Colossus.  Sometimes I wish you had stayed around for a few glasses longer.  We could have seen out January.  Waited for the brighter months.  But, Spring brings with it an appeal for the new and we could only ever be winter trees.  Now. Waiting and wondering.  Whether, you and me. Will return ...

Shav vahini ganga (Ganga the hearse)

It's a song in Gujarati with subtitles in English. It has gone viral. So sharing it here.  Listen People dying in large numbers, The virus and the black fungus Playing havoc, the hearse Is now the river Ganga ...

Ultimate Reflexion
Picked

What can I say about this?  Perhaps that I am not in that place myself - just yet.  I can well empathise with people who are ...

getting back

in darkness, I was dreaming... my hands flew away, as birds, my head, a cage broke in an instant into pieces, I heard a cracking sound, my feet melted, chains transformed as a garland that freed as flowers, slowly, I gave away everything I had with grace, my body, its parts adorned the garden, the sky, the ground, yet, I was complete, until I woke up, in a second, I got back everything I lost, ...

I Have Wounded You.

Thoughtless words are the knives with many blades, they wound as they fall from the pen. Judgement lay unrealised upon the page. Careless eyes, blind of understanding had condemned the innocent. Apologies lie empty as shells within the sand, or the pebble washed away in an icy river’s flow, which no amends can stem. flow  ...

No one knows

Death is on the rise, the world, a cemetery. Countless lives succumb to the terror, unable to breathe, without any hearse, bodies burnt, buried.  The outfit has suddenly become white, for the dead and the alive.  Leaders cheering the helpless healthcare workers.  Little hope to efface the virus from the face of the earth, the black fungus adding to the loss of life, vaccines generating revenue from the locker of the hearth.  TV channels earning ...

This I and this “I”
Picked

On the theme of hunger: two perspectives on I and "I" : (a recycled poem) ...

a couple of small verses

my sense organs, a disoriented cattle, grazing; a clumsy  shepherd with a broken flute, I watch helplessly ... yoga means to connect with who I am, it also disconnects me from nature ... the sun -  clouds cover, slowly they go away, I discover the absence of relationship between the sun and the clouds, the moon - playing with the fish in a dancing pond; there is no link between the moon, the pond, the ...

A Fanciful Ode
Picked

It is all imagination, of course. (But isn't everything?)  ...