Submissions by Ahavati
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Proprio Vos Sanguine Pasco
Yom HaShoah
( Holocaust Remembrance Day )
"...I should like someone to remember that there once lived a person
named David Berger." -- David Berger (in his last letter, Vilna, 1941)
And what of memory
for those unknown,
unimaginable suffering;
genocide so cruel
it's denied as believable
by a society
desensitized to Truth.
An African Proverb says,
"Until the Lions have their day
History belongs to the hunter."
But not in this case.
In this case we remember ...
"...I should like someone to remember that there once lived a person
named David Berger." -- David Berger (in his last letter, Vilna, 1941)
And what of memory
for those unknown,
unimaginable suffering;
genocide so cruel
it's denied as believable
by a society
desensitized to Truth.
An African Proverb says,
"Until the Lions have their day
History belongs to the hunter."
But not in this case.
In this case we remember ...
1692 reads
23 Comments
`Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind[s]´ of JohnnyBlaze & Co*
Before an aide-memoire existed, there was poetic form;
oral transmission through
ancient civilization:
The preservation of priceless
Tradition and familiar Lore
containing Ancestral secrets;
ways of Life otherwise lost
amidst generations of the World:
Hundreds of centuries
have long set sail since
'The Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor'
crash-landed upon the annals
of cultural and literary History
2500 years before the Christian era. ...
oral transmission through
ancient civilization:
The preservation of priceless
Tradition and familiar Lore
containing Ancestral secrets;
ways of Life otherwise lost
amidst generations of the World:
Hundreds of centuries
have long set sail since
'The Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor'
crash-landed upon the annals
of cultural and literary History
2500 years before the Christian era. ...
1446 reads
13 Comments
Bouncing Betty
It’s been forty-years
plus twenty
that Bouncing Betty
kicked her shoes off
walked barefoot;
her jungle-rotted toes
buried in the hot soil
of Vietnam and Cambodia.
The landscape
of her awakening
escorted many
into the afterlife.
Even now
her explosive temper
splits survival's aftermath
when her hibernation
is innocently disrupted;
demanding sacrificial blood
as restitution;
or at least a limb.
Most days lack dire circumstance ...
plus twenty
that Bouncing Betty
kicked her shoes off
walked barefoot;
her jungle-rotted toes
buried in the hot soil
of Vietnam and Cambodia.
The landscape
of her awakening
escorted many
into the afterlife.
Even now
her explosive temper
splits survival's aftermath
when her hibernation
is innocently disrupted;
demanding sacrificial blood
as restitution;
or at least a limb.
Most days lack dire circumstance ...
1124 reads
14 Comments
The Principle of Resonance
The Architect of designated Life
calculates the gravitational pull
against the leverage of resonance
to a precise second of entrance.
Our plotted trajectory course is
determined by our final blueprint;
the diaphanous mystery of choice
balanced between past and present:
Remembering who we were before
time allotted this experience, and
recognizing who we are despite
our current form of existence.
"A bond between souls is ancient –
older than the planet."
~
Photo credit: Friends by Sara...
calculates the gravitational pull
against the leverage of resonance
to a precise second of entrance.
Our plotted trajectory course is
determined by our final blueprint;
the diaphanous mystery of choice
balanced between past and present:
Remembering who we were before
time allotted this experience, and
recognizing who we are despite
our current form of existence.
"A bond between souls is ancient –
older than the planet."
~
Photo credit: Friends by Sara...
985 reads
14 Comments
Parable of Belief
For when ye pray, pray for Belief...
When Poetry is stronger than fear
hearts become iron shields, hands
a barbed lance for the Craft.
When Poetry is braver than self
ego recants in the confessional,
pledges Faithful subservience.
When Poetry reveals itself tangibly
it molds beauty from navigable Hearts;
Tradition survives; History evolves.
When Poetry manifests, it Forgives
society’s edict of required allegiance;
rises Sovereign, a nonaligned...
When Poetry is stronger than fear
hearts become iron shields, hands
a barbed lance for the Craft.
When Poetry is braver than self
ego recants in the confessional,
pledges Faithful subservience.
When Poetry reveals itself tangibly
it molds beauty from navigable Hearts;
Tradition survives; History evolves.
When Poetry manifests, it Forgives
society’s edict of required allegiance;
rises Sovereign, a nonaligned...
990 reads
9 Comments
Resignation
It is written when a Turtle Dove
loses its mate it often seeks another
to propogate survival.
Yet, in the nine months
during his visits
he remains solo.
I wonder if that's
what Love is,
a resignation to live out
appointed days content
in the experience of having known
that kind of Love at all,
rather than desecrate the memory
with a substitute.
I sit here gazing
from my kitchen table
contemplating various possibilities;
why he hasn't chosen ...
loses its mate it often seeks another
to propogate survival.
Yet, in the nine months
during his visits
he remains solo.
I wonder if that's
what Love is,
a resignation to live out
appointed days content
in the experience of having known
that kind of Love at all,
rather than desecrate the memory
with a substitute.
I sit here gazing
from my kitchen table
contemplating various possibilities;
why he hasn't chosen ...
1157 reads
16 Comments
All this Poetry
I knew one day these poems
would become lines on my face.
They will live, stand up proudly;
Experience forming impromptu plays
that function and entertain.
Because they have their own lives
that do not revolve around you or me.
You will never be the tall height
of building in your own poem.
You will always be the roadie
altering scenery between sets,
the stagehand pushing amps
or a back stage pass.
Listen, You only want to be God
in the dream that...
would become lines on my face.
They will live, stand up proudly;
Experience forming impromptu plays
that function and entertain.
Because they have their own lives
that do not revolve around you or me.
You will never be the tall height
of building in your own poem.
You will always be the roadie
altering scenery between sets,
the stagehand pushing amps
or a back stage pass.
Listen, You only want to be God
in the dream that...
1219 reads
17 Comments
21st Century Emily Dickinson
What penance is to be paid
for dropping the large brown eggs
of your eyes—
their content saturating
the busted carton of your cheeks
And all my childhood horses
and all my imaginary playmates
can't put them back together again;
I can only try to explain
Blood is the life;
I feel mine in these Sacred lands—
each spilled drop fertilizing ...
for dropping the large brown eggs
of your eyes—
their content saturating
the busted carton of your cheeks
And all my childhood horses
and all my imaginary playmates
can't put them back together again;
I can only try to explain
Blood is the life;
I feel mine in these Sacred lands—
each spilled drop fertilizing ...
#LifeAsAWriter
#EmilyDickinson
1539 reads
29 Comments
Immigration
In the land of milk and honey
two by two seeds were sown,
their roots clutching the glebe
as a newborn the breast until
the pulpy vertebra was strong.
So when the Lavender came,
Its purpled green headdress
marching toward the razed dune,
the trees received them openly
as a sanctum would sojourners
after 40 years in the wilderness.
For though native now, were once
strangers in the land themselves.*
~
Exodus
Photo Credit: Zidor Casperlin
two by two seeds were sown,
their roots clutching the glebe
as a newborn the breast until
the pulpy vertebra was strong.
So when the Lavender came,
Its purpled green headdress
marching toward the razed dune,
the trees received them openly
as a sanctum would sojourners
after 40 years in the wilderness.
For though native now, were once
strangers in the land themselves.*
~
Exodus
Photo Credit: Zidor Casperlin
#politics
#religion
#spiritual
#acceptance
#metaphor
1079 reads
12 Comments
Love is a Verb
I've been growing a tiny
cutting since last autumn;
She moved into a pot
from a windowsill glass
that was once a cup
before tasting her first
drops of summer rain.
By late spring she'll be ready
for moist soil; by summer
she will have survived
harsh winter elements;
by early autumn she'll
birth a new cutting.
She will grow to a mighty
flower from a little cup
not because I'm a gardener
or have a green thumb
But because I Loved her.
~
cutting since last autumn;
She moved into a pot
from a windowsill glass
that was once a cup
before tasting her first
drops of summer rain.
By late spring she'll be ready
for moist soil; by summer
she will have survived
harsh winter elements;
by early autumn she'll
birth a new cutting.
She will grow to a mighty
flower from a little cup
not because I'm a gardener
or have a green thumb
But because I Loved her.
~
#NaPoWriMo2017
1902 reads
42 Comments
[ NaPoWriMo - 2017 Collection ] Millenniums without Doors
I. Ruminations
Perhaps it is befitting upon suffering
to return to our chosen conception,
rewind the poem to our humble beginning
the origin of our writhing birth.
The instance of gelatinous pod rupturing
its own ocean of submerged Life-form,
constricting to spill forth the contents
from the gestation of its sonar depths.
Into the fumbling gravity of sterility
flailing arms and...
Perhaps it is befitting upon suffering
to return to our chosen conception,
rewind the poem to our humble beginning
the origin of our writhing birth.
The instance of gelatinous pod rupturing
its own ocean of submerged Life-form,
constricting to spill forth the contents
from the gestation of its sonar depths.
Into the fumbling gravity of sterility
flailing arms and...
#NaPoWriMo2017
1683 reads
45 Comments
A Blaze of Glory: Poetry Edition, NaPoWriMo '17
Someone who hadn't seen me recently
asked me if I was happy.
I've withdrawn from the public
to focus more on writing.
I didn't have to think,
that if I could spend
the rest of my life working part-time
to meet just the basic needs
e.g. - housing, utilities, etc.
I would be content living
the rest of my life
reading, writing, and doing
what we're doing now.
There's such a contentment
in following your dream.
...
asked me if I was happy.
I've withdrawn from the public
to focus more on writing.
I didn't have to think,
that if I could spend
the rest of my life working part-time
to meet just the basic needs
e.g. - housing, utilities, etc.
I would be content living
the rest of my life
reading, writing, and doing
what we're doing now.
There's such a contentment
in following your dream.
...
#NaPoWriMo2017
1260 reads
30 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Ahavati