Spiritual Olive, Man devoid, Extinguished Moment

Spiritual olive,
man devoid, extinguished moment. Allure of the sea, whispers haunting
and scent of invocation;
what reason is there, then for pungent yet original statement?
I should ignore the stains of hot-pink profanity;
cries of a thousand hordes, saying  this is not the way it’s meant to be,
who are they to decide the potential of our voice?
In my drunken state
the darkness takes a chance and stops the clock,
from this land,
a great axiom of archaeological heritages begin to be evidenced,
any comparison
that is not strictly factual runs the risk of being interpreted as subjective;
cobbles spattered with chai and wreckage of flowers,
what have we come to?
Karachi, Karachi, on this same square the henchmen killed
the only woman
courageous enough to talk,  how did we let that happen?
At times the wind from the burning would take
dark kites along
and riders on the carousel would be seen catching petals in midair;
but on that day I thought only of the loneliness of the dying,
of how the trees whose fruit
contributes positively to the economy, began
to feel anguish,
anybody who predicts the death of a city must be birthing galaxies of their own—
the prologues are over, it’s a question now.
Karachi, Karachi, violet dreams replace woe in the shades of our minds;
what once was lost is gained
when the blue wind boy and white horse girl met, the first fall of the awakened
they named it.
It takes only a fleeting moment.




Original poem: Carnal apple, woman filled, burning moon
by Pablo Neruda

Photo credits: Alvaro Castagnet Watercolor City, Pinterest

An early unveiling of the April Poem-a-Day Challenge, Day 7 🥠

Lisa hosts at dVerse and asks to choose one of our favorite
poems and ‘flip the script.’ Come join us! 💝

Posted for Poetics: “Flipping The Meaning,” @dVerse Poets Pub

What Sorrows Are You Drowning?

We aren’t meant to be faultless, to be curated in a world
where risotto is compared to lobster;
supple grains of rice perfumed of parmesan and wine
and replete
with butter—we ought to remember this when the rain is pelting
down. What sorrows are you drowning, and why?
Do you ever pause?
Do you think about the commonality of human experience?
I adore salted caramel donuts;
especially when in the process of deciphering the genetic structure found
in the cells of organisms—ha! I am obviously kidding.
The marks left behind are more than often scars,
hot pink against the skin;  we can choose to hide them or don them
confidently, I have hardly ever met
another human devoid of unspeakable pain—
forgive me,
I am on the verge of becoming nostalgic; let us be cornier, let loose,
go for the awful rhyme instead
of settling for verses immaculate, life my darling, isn’t always pretty,
isn’t always ideal.
What sorrows are you drowning?





Photo credits: “Pink Cup,” by Jess @ Harper Sunday, Unsplash

An early unveiling of the April Poem-a-Day Challenge, Day 2 🥠

Lillian hosts OLN at dVerse and shares an absolutely delightful
April Fool’s Day tale. Come join us! 💝

Posted for Open Link Night #289 @ dVerse Poets Pub