The Daily Fret; Stanza 6

Walking Shadows

Walking shadows,

I often liked;

To take them out,

On darkish nights.

With shimmering shards,

To quiet guide,

In darkened hours,

When night is nigh.

And sculpted thus,

With twinkling light,

That burned afar,

Yet never lied.

And myriad shades,

In angles slight;

Made them more,

With longing lights.

For blooming caught,

In darkened eyes,

The blackest hopes,

See bluest skies.

And hope that clay,

That flesh of night,

Would mark their love,

And shine just bright.

In a world that lives,

So halved by sight,

With dark do fill,

We empty light.

To search then most,

A hope that might,

To see form fulfilled,

In shadows slight...

The Daily Fret; Stanza 5

Points of View
 

Words running,

Did often slip,

And in chasms,

Did endless get;

Lost some say,

But rather glib,

i found their jeer,

And grin with it.

And smugly too,

Like polished nibs,

Gleamed the ink,

Of life they writ;

With blood so blue,

That once dipped,

All seas and skies,

Immersed in it.

But some said,

Were troubled bits;

For eyes weak,

Were bound to flit-

To horizons lines,

To quickly fit,

The points of views,

That came to sit;

That blurry sight,

In half jest and wit,

Said twinkled stars,

By just being lit…

Agnostic Gods

Words be quick;

Little candlesticks,

That hung head first,

Are duly lit.

And dark no more,

Though dimly bit,

The grainy life,

Does flickering flit.

Playing with void,

And as if it,

Seems no more,

And does exist.

For caught in glare,

It does admit,

That simply dark,

Is always hid;

From patient eyes,

That grope for bits;

Scavenging faith,

And not just sit.

Like agnostic Gods,

Who though had writ,

In smouldering stars,

Of how be lit;

A world fair,

But now just sit,

And eternal gaze,

At what they've quit...

 The Daily Fret; Stanza 4, for 4 Mar 12.

Lonely Ghosts

 ...And dying still

Did wonder most,

Why remembered less;

And amnesic ghost-

Was the last wish,

That one could post,

Before the living raised,

Their loving toast.

To send one's way,

On the far-ish coast,

Where none do come,

And never hope.

For dreams are made,

Enroute  en-course,

And to eternal last,

Is one so forced.

For days shall pass,

In waking hoarse,

And insomnic eyes,

Won't ever close.

For deadmen too,

Do have some woe,

But formless beings,

Dont get to show-

How raging hearts,

Clutch memory's ghosts,

And a waiting game,

Is what kills us most...

*The Daily Fret, Stanza 3

Setting Course

 

Thank Lord for signs;

They led me straight,

On brink's path,

One's never late.

We often fear,

And rush the gates,

Lest brewing time;

Shuns obligates-

Who know it all,

But cannot say,

For lips are pursed,

And price is paid.

To ashen minds,

The terms are laid,

And measured most,

Are salty baits.

Of time's sands,

That loosely braids,

Life's necklace,

To embrace our fates;

On restless shores,

That never gave,

The ocean sore,

Their hope to save-

A voyage last,

On endless days,

Where setting sun,

Would sigh and say.

That though am lost,

To another wave,

Just watch the skies,

Your path to pave.

And from fires set,

Do chart your ways,

For oceans black,

Just let those rays;

To twinkle tell,

when one would may,

Just squint blind,

And rather pray.

For random stars,

In moments grey,

when darks nigh,

Do often say-

How ascendent skies,

Are just the frey,

where lost long,

And burned have they...

*this is against 2 March, unfortunately couldn't be posted yesterday.
it's hence the 2nd installment of the "Daily Fret".

Stargazing

Sun’s footsteps;

They leave a trace,

On skies burnt-

Gleams their faith.

What heavens thought;

But lie do waste,

And now but seem,

Just scattered haste.

And looking down,

A frowning face;

To upward prayers,

That people paste-

On skies above,

In hours late,

When lonesome seems,

The darkened cape.

That takes so close,

In an embrace,

While embers warm,

We sit and trace;

To etch our own,

Lost winsome ways,

On shooting stars,

Or some godly face-

With all our suns,

That couldn’t make;

An eternal skim,

On life’s lake.

But rolling went,

To deeper stakes;

From fetched no more,

Are ever wake.

And hoping thus-

To skies do take,

And like embers light;

Their lonely wait…

PS~ This bird is the Oriental White Eye, Zosterops palpebrosus in action... :)

*posting in the nick of time tonight...i hope the Daily Fret is now begun... :)

The Bazaar

She beckons me,
Across the street,
Of glowing lights,
And shared strife;
Over the crowds,
That endless seem,
And yet in thoughts,
Lost; unseen.

The wind cradles,
Her tender smile,
And I sway,
Expectations, wild,
That drive your heart,
More than the feet.
Yet sundry calls,
From jostled streets,
Are all somehow,
What stay with me,
And in my ears hum,
As I reach-
To cross the lines,
That were for the world,
But now recognize,
Only me;
It seems.