shayarisms4lovers June18 159 - The Fountain | A Poem by P.K. Deb

The Fountain | A Poem by P.K. Deb

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Naturally, the colossal mountain was icy and rocky —
stood beside the slum of the half-fed and half-naked in a desert,
the prayer and the importunity of their hunger and thirst
reverberated in the open air and the sky of infinity,
vibrated even the hard heart of the icy-mountain and at last
succeeded to melt it down to a little fountain for them.

A responsibility geared the fountain to flow down
with water and wealth for the ever-thirsty and hungry
who fidgeted and wept lying on the foot of the mountain,
hence, with a sympathetic fuel it rushed down to the desert.

Still, it sang, made the rock to clap and the fishes to dance,
continued its well destined, brakeless and nap-less journey
till it reached the desert of hunger and thirst of the indigents
and watched their dry faces who ran towards it tumultuously
to immerse their curse of suffering in the water of the fountain.

Alas, suddenly the fountain was surrounded by the pillagers —
the sun, wind, rocks, sands, trees and other suckers
who plunged in to the fountain and snatched the wealth first
and at last, soaked and sucked the water to its last drop
in front of the thirsty and hungry who could not save the fountain
which was a gift to them and only for them to explore and enjoy.…

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shayarisms4lovers June18 272 - Shadowboxing | A Poem by Jeremiah Castelo

Shadowboxing | A Poem by Jeremiah Castelo

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My shoulders are well oiled axles,
my fists are cannon balls

I am an uncompromised,
uninhibited,
and unchallenged fresh breath of boldness

I am the statue of fastholding,
chiseled down from black diamond by the strong hand of craftsmanship

I am chaos’s more stable second cousin,
and favored uncle to the prodigals, the proliferates, the princes, and
the prodigies

I am the lion’s heart beat,
the war drum’s sporadic syncopation

I am the wolf pack’s collective sixth and seventh senses,
keen on the scent of blood, fear, and impending annihilation

I will not sway to the breath of your voice
nor will I stagger at the wind your weather weaves

Advance upon me and find yourself hard pressed against calloused
intolerance,
behind which is a wall,
and behind that wall,
an army

I pray you combust into flames and feathers at once should my name
birth from your lips

I pray my night guardsmen have eyes of eagles,
and my trumpeteers have breaths of behemoths should you ever encroach
upon my camp at dreaming hour

I promise to empress upon you pressure,
of a nature that spawns pearls, magma, and passionate revolution

But the only revolution that will come of your resistance is vertigo,
as you spiral downward into abysmal forgottenness

Now heed my words with intent lest you risk the fate of faded
bewilderment

May God be my strength as I destroy you

Eviscerate you

Annihilate you

I will obliterate you until the only remnant of your very existence
is but a vague memory,

of a fleeting idea

in a dream

inside a dream

inside a coma.…

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shayarisms4lovers June18 141 - Impasto | A Poem by Ivan Jenson

Impasto | A Poem by Ivan Jenson

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Impasto | A Poem by Ivan Jenson

Your pink
passivity
draws me in
as I outwardly paint
your negative
and positive
space
into the pigment
of my
perception
and then
it occurs to me
that you
are currently
on the
good side of
Mother Nature
but someday
you will be
gently scolded
by Father Time
but by then
I will be
primed by
black gesso
and brushed
by a dark destiny
and all that
will be left
of your
cursed curves
will be this
square canvas
stretched on
the warped
frame of
now…

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