49 Years

I remember the day, the falling from grace
with a knock at the door and a slap in the face
as the vicar stood there with chagrin and poise
whilst the words hit me hard with the loudest of noise

My father was gone, no more to return
forlorn, devastated, my fifteen years spurned
But I rose from that moment and grew with a strength
that lessened the pain at last and at length

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Opened Doors

Joint Poetry by Venkataraman L.N. and Joseph Kurian

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Thorny Roses

Joint Poetry by Venkataraman L.N. and Joseph Kurian

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Open Past

Joint Poetry by Venkataraman L.N. and Joseph Kurian

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Life In Ponder

Joint Poetry by Venkataraman L.N. and Joseph Kurian

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Aimless Dreams

Joint Poetry by Venkataraman L.N. and Joseph Kurian

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mother

mild manners, mellow morrow
mumbles, masks, murmurs
margarine, marmalade
mist, memo, maple
melt, microwave, mild

A PRICELESS GIFT

A PRICELESS GIFT
By Charles Robert Lindholm

The applause of the world
dies away
and is forgotten

If Yesterday Were a Door

if yesterday were a door
would you find her hand
where the sunset slid

if yesterday were a door
would you hold her smile
where the memories hid

Memory

 

Memory is the not-quite-living museum of our lives, and dusty.
You’re not sentenced to remain what you already are.
You may change, grow and split the hardened
carapace of a self that no longer fits,
and like the seven-year locust,
climb high into a tree and
claim your rebirth.
But first comes
mere courage
and risk.

 

Of shillings and treasure

I watched the shilling spinning
it was mine in no small measure
Enough to buy two Matchbox cars
to hold and keep and treasure
The fingers twisted blithely
as they caught and spun again
but I saw no abandon
found no one there to blame

19 February 1974

The knock at the door
I remember it well
though forty-six years have now passed
The vicar right there
with something to share
for a slap in the face that would last

It was anger I felt
with a fist in the air
that my father had left in that way
And I heard not a sound
from that hole in the ground
as I stood on that February day

In pictures

I’ve been looking through my pictures
as I do from time to time
at photos I have taken
in the sunshine when it’s fine
others taken in the rain
or when walking by the sea
or up there on the Sussex hills
all precious here to me

Memories Over A Glass of Wine

You weren’t my first summer girl—
But were the first one to take me over
Body and soul (and OK, I admit, it wasn’t all that hard to do)
But you are the one from the early days I remember

With only a few sharp regrets, since softened by time.

But also rises in me a wistful toast
To our being so young and eager, so serious, so clumsy,
So lost in hormones and music on the radio
Sitting on the lawn under a black sky sprinkled with stars,
Fumbling, clutching, giddy with freedom, while
Bullfrogs’ song charged the humid darkness with need.

Footsteps

footsteps, they tap my mind
footsteps, on the grooves
inches of sounds, snowflakes
bundles of drizzles, yesterdays

Christmas passed

I sit at the side of an aging Christmas tree,
its lights still glittering, the ornaments of memory
and seasonal delight put away since yesterday.

I Come From A Place of Fireflies

I came from a place of fireflies,
where men were reasonable and tall,
Where people knew me by who my grandfather was, and his, and his.
Where farmers didn’t block views with trees,
To see at a glance from the kitchen window
How the corn was doing, the soybeans.

HE LEFT US A LEGACY

By Charles Robert Lindholm

It’s A Legacy  

He’s Left The World In His Words

Paul Lenzi, Poet

Copyright © 2018 Charles Robert Lindholm – All Rights Reserved
Please take some time and visit Paul’s Archive at Posey and Polemics

Diamante + Alliteration: 2018-07-28

time
tames, twists
twigs, threads, tales
tresspasses, tussles, makes
molten, mountains
mellows, moves
memory

image: pinterest.com

HER PLUNDERING TONGUE

By Charles Robert Lindholm

In A Playful Moment
She Caught Me
Totally Off Guard
With A Blindside Kiss

Memories of your Hug

There is a silence around
But i am craving to hear that voice
The one that brought peace to me
The one that hasn’t left me with a choice

Altered Carbon

I pinned my phosphorus heart

to the crisp linen sleeve

of my mourning suit

where all could see

your initials

carved deep

This Feeling of Loneliness

I wrote this poem in Hindi couple of days back.  This is a rarity for me.  Hindi is not my mother tongue and Hindi grammar,  specially keeping track of the change in gender of the subject / object / verb combination is difficult for me.  From time to time I did venture in writing a few.  I translated the poem to Axomiya ( Assamese – my mother tongue)   and to English .  Posting these below with English translation first followed by original Hindi poem and then Axomiya translation.
( In the Assamese translation, the translated word for Eerie ( or strange) is a compound word “Advut”.  Even with my best try, my PC ( Windows 10) will not allow this compound letter/ word to be written properly.  So I was forced to replace it with a synonym, Achahua.  

Eerie this feeling of loneliness
Lips have not kissed the bottle

A PRICELESS GIFT

A PRICELESS GIFT
By Charles Robert Lindholm

The applause of the world
dies away
and is forgotten

Travel

*Alliteration Poem – Travel*

7th Oct’17  ~by Venkat

Thunders throng, torches twirl
Tusks tainted, timber tracks
Tropics tussle, tepid trunk
Thud trees, thud thoughts
Twisted tyres, tracks torn

Memory

*Alliteration Poem – Memory*

28th Sep’17  ~by Venkat

Maples, murmur my melody
Melodies, murmur my morning
Mornings, murmur my muse
Musings, murmur my motifs
Motifs, murmur my memories

image: pinterest.com

Nautilus

I travel spiral path

bare feet sinking deep into soft sand

circles twisting ever tighter

as I navigate this nautilus

walls curved and translucent

Tripped

I stumbled

over our history

didn’t mean

to leave it on the floor

where anyone could find it