Autumn

    Autumn

 

So many things

are vulnerable to cold—

the cucumber’s crisp

and my sweet basil’s toes,

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Butterfly Cinquain: 2018-08-29

Syllable pattern : 2-4-6-8-2-8-6-4-2

marbles
huddle not close
till you make them ready
as old school bell of yester years

marbles

Twitch

twitch not this silence, my owl
I hear the waves in your eyes
rock not this dark, my owl
I see time gallop down your gaze

Interval: A Cento

I was asking myself:
will I be like this? How will I manage?

Limerick – Age

Limerick – Age
‎01-Dec-2017

-by Venkat

Wrinkles they stood up, lined in stripes
As tigers they held voices, hollow pipes
Life’s jungle, dark stripes in white
Grew eyes to paint the night
Age in shooting aches, gives best wipes

image www.behance.net

It Is Something To Have Been

“Karma,” New Orleans, Louisiana, USA. An impressive sculpture is located in the Sydney and Walda Besthoff Sculpture Garden, which is found at the New Orleans Museum of Art. It is made by Korean artist Do Ho Suh.

I am well past my 20s,
that golden time
when I only saw a little—and even that
with optimistic eyes.

I’m past the days of cheap
apartments with friends and wine and roaches,
lentils and rice for breakfast,
or leftover cold pizza.

I’m beyond learning of
war and death and pestilence.
The visitations of grief
have marked me, too.

A Fantasy of Permanent Youth

I’m racing the inevitable,
my only weapon an
optimistic fantasy
of permanent youthfulness.

The 1970s are to blame.
My generation is to blame.
We started this crap,
pretending we could play
where, before,
only teenagers and children could.

Time

*Alliteration Poem – Time*

5th Oct’17  ~by Venkat
Talons, treacherous, talons, tired

Treacherous, time takes the tooth

Timeless tresspasses, timely treason

Tossed talons, tremulous trees

Borrowed Dust

This body is nothing but
borrowed dust
Animated somehow and passing
along this unmarked
road, from who knows
what to who
knows where.

Songs in Sand

And still the waves
slip ashore,
singing their
conspiratorial whispers
between grains of sand.
The wind slides in
from the deep,
empty places,
haunted and lonely,
cold and clean
like a wet finger around

Measurement of Worth

Words hurt – words scar.

Words can undermine who you are.

Words can set to a rolling pace…

Working Vacation

After 60 years of work, more or less,
I’ve decided to take a working vacation.
I’m booking a cruise for the next 60 years
To go exploring along the coasts,
Poking my canoe up the inlets and rivers,
Probing the veins and wires and memories of
Some unfamiliar parts of me, and some
I’ve been missing for a while, to
Seeing whether there’s anything
Worth saving, or maybe just toss it all out.

It’s Time




Maybe it is time to forgive God
For the hundreds of women
who have rejected me over the years,
Starting in third grade,
(theoretically, of course,
whether they knew it or not.
And for the one or two who
didn’t, but should have).

I’ve reached the point in life
too late where I
Would actually be of some
use to them,

Could gently walk with them without harm,
And be remembered with
generosity and fondness.
But I have reached the age
of their fathers,
And so, instead, have become
regrettably invisible.

All Is Temporary

I’m nearly old, she said… to no one,
Before the mirror,
Tracing a line down her cheek
With a fingertip,
Lost in memory.

She sighs.
A chill; her soul shivers .

Song of Life – Part I and II

Old men
      and women

Some in smiles younger
     some old

Caves in mouth
Sing a long song of life

A song of waters

Song of Life – Part I

Old men
      and women
Some in smiles younger
      some old
     
Caves in mouth
      Singing songs of life

Beyond

Beyond the Gates of Diabolical Time

Mystery consorts with Harmonious Rhyme

Whispering Sedition in Melodic Tones

Gregory

He looked up at me

“Hi Dad” I said

His eyes were inspecting me

Up and down, side to side

“You are not my son” he said

Magnets and Stones

Would you take me
Back to my place
The age of stones

When stones rubbed
to give light

The New Ice Age

As Earth spins into seasons
We spun snow upon our feet
Immobile, white with frozen eyes
We breathe through cones
A smile, melting into our teeth

-12.05.15_00:22-

Feeling like
The twenty year old
I was,
Lasts until
I get up,
Then the weight

Taunting Thunder

Taunting thunder
Bring on the storm
Rail against the rain
Scream at the sea’s form

Old Enough

I saw a poster that asked a question
Is “old enough to know better” a time
It made me wonder if that age exists
Or is it just another reason to rhyme.

Someday

someday your heavy tears
would flow through my eyes
someday your hopeless fears
would make me shiver as I rise

Lost

a rustle
heard too late
for eyes to behold
too late to touch upon
to feel the ridges of feeling

ABC Poem: Age or Memory?

Poetry challenge: ABC Poem.

Again I have to ask.

By the time I return…

Can I recollect my home address?

Do I need to remember or memorize?

Enter the correct street and door

For heaven’s sake where is the key?

Gosh! Did I lock my house at all?

How do I find now?

I don’t seem to remember

Limerick: An Old Man

An old man in my memory

With absent-mindedness plenary

Mistook his ink pen for his teaspoon

He coughed up, yet poisoned soon

Took the teaspoon, wrote his own obituary

© Venkat

Sixty.

Men who write poems at
60, have found a lover.
The wonder of their universe.

Women who write poems at
60, have found themselves.
The wonder of their universe.