Children have Ipads
Sit with their dads
Where is a real book?
That catches the nook
Smartphones everywhere
Everyone is in glair
They all stare
Are their minds bare?
Where is society going?
No real talk
No real walk
Texting while walking
Is the new norm
Will this change form?
Electronic hacks
Are in tacks
How long?
Lifeless girl
Sits like a frog
Ribbit croaking
On a shoulder
Rough as a boulder
Mind in a fog
She has no dog
A girl just sobs
She is a blob
Dresses as a slob
Where is a job?
A spider sits
On a big door knob
Snow is slippery
Driveways full of snow
If she had only had a shovel
She could make some dough
Her car gets a tow
She falls in the snow
Hitting her toe
With a huge glow
Pain she feels
She truly squeals
Like a pig pen
Will she get zen?
Coins jingle in her pocket
No electricity in her socket
Holes in her pocket
She has no rocket
To escape this pain
What will she gain?
No money for food
Her friends are rude
What shall she do?
If she only knew
Time flew
Grass with dew
Did she get the flu?What shall she do?
How to survive?
When the breeze lightly flows
The leaves & branches mildly glows
Sometimes hiding
Sometimes peeping
Midst the warmth of the sunshine
And the weather cozy and fine
Sometimes hiding the light
Or enhancing the nature's might
The white little fly
Twittering beneath the sky
Playing midst the brilliant woods
Nature whispers within silence's shrouds
There’s a lot to speak about ‘Emotions’,
Feelings that can attach you to your possessions;
Stimulus that initiates the promises: made & broken,
The memories that in future in your mind shall open;
....
The source & root-cause of all anxiety,
Binding you to your rivals & worshiped Almighty;
The fake fun that can draw you crazy,
The misunderstandings that makes the truth hazy;
...
it moulds your outlook towards other’s personality,
it is a fact, that we are all gifted with emotionality.
they, the voice your soul & heart
suddenly appear in mind as dart
...
it is all up to you whether you throw,
or respond back the same to let it grow
either you pursue not & let it cry
or just you ignore & let them die
...
or you respect them & forget it never
or nicely pen it to keep them forever.
emotions are the vibes of your heart
have jubilant power to make thy smart.
“So you would like to interview me?” God asked
“If you have the time” I said.
God smiled
“My time is eternity”
“What questions do you have in mind for me?”
“What surprises you most about humankind?...”
God answered...
“That they get bored with childhood.
They rush to grow up and then
long to be children again.”
“That they lose their health to make money
and then lose their money to restore their health.”
“That by thinking anxiously about the future,
they forget the present,
such that they live in neither
the present nor the future.”
That they live as if they will never die,
and die as if they had never lived.”
God’s hand took mine
and we were silent for awhile
and then I asked...
“As a parent, what are some of life’s lessons
you want your children to learn?”
God replied with a smile
“To learn they cannot make anyone love them.
What they can do is let themselves be loved.”
“To learn that it is not good
to compare themselves to others.”
“To learn that a rich person is not one who has the most,
but is one who needs the least.”
“To learn that it only takes a few seconds
to open profound wounds in persons we love,
and it takes many years to heal them.”
“To learn to forgive by
practicing forgiveness.”
“To learn that there are persons who love them dearly,
but simply do not know how to express or show
their feelings.”
“To learn that two people
can look at the same thing
and see it differently.”
“To learn that it is not always enough that they
be forgiven by others. But that they must
forgive themselves.”
“And to learn that I am here always.”
First, I find I am in the softest of cloud-blankets, caressing my body like a tender embrace.
,,,
I realize calmness permeates by body and soul as I gently navigate along peaceful fractal ribbon-trees.
...
Ahhh, the cloud-blanket is composed of the love from and for every person I’ve been blessed to meet.
...
Tranquility …
… … … … … )
( … … … …
… … … )
( … …
… )
A gentle sea caresses me, impossible to sink because it is an alien yet familiar tranquil sea (full of love? salt? I’m buoyant.)
...
Tiny (oh so tiny, Planck-scale!) bubble-fishes in the quantum foam . . . give me kisses just as I think I might need one.
...
Whoever thought a “boring” story with no plot . . . could be fun/nourishing/soothing or
Maybe just silly so I smile.
...
But it is relaxing in this turquoise sea, the storm fading into the distance like the cosmic/microwave background of the birth of the universe- there, probably I guess, ever present but only recently discovered- or always somehow known and part of my being.
...
Sweetness, gentle quantum foam fishes- every person I ever loved- surrounding me and holding me but flitting away or coming back- allowing me to rest and be free.
There's a lovely crik in Henry's Woods
That lightly laps at spider feet
And chuckle-tumbles over pebbles,
And runs around rocks.
It curves into shallow hollows,
Flowing near ferns,
Meandering over moist mosses,
And I stand in its sweet coolness,
My world's eighth wonder.
I move from one patient to the next,
dispensing pills, evaluating pains, checking the color of nailbeds.
...
Suddenly this elderly lady with shaky hands
gives me something small and hard.
I stare down and my palm stares back.
...
I was never taught in nursing school how to deal with this fragility.
A glass eye.
...
OK, I'm calm,
breathe...
I'm calm, washing someone's eyeball.
Slippery glass above hard porcelain.
Drain leering at me as the eye swirls in my palm.
...
OK, I'm calm.
Pop!
A grateful little woman smiles at me with her eyes.
Towards the dried clots of evening’s old cataract
Skate the deserted church’s residual blunt air
Steadily creeping over the nostrils of dire slumber
Burying it’s sequel’s groans at pain’s square
...
The crotched pulse severs hymns
Born at every sickled iridiscence
Squelching every sprouted breath of hope’s basin
Crippling yet another edge of heart’s crescence
...
The heaven’s pectoral soul crams
In its beheaded word’s tidal beats
Trembling in the pulpit’s dim shadow
Where the silence smitten dust screams
...
The gums of morning’s bangled mist
Addle the maimed bark of dawn
And the basked claws of numb clouds
Nurture the chronic glimpse of death’s cotyledon.
