Sunday, September 15, 2019

Vitaliy Mashchenko paints

MIRROR

Steven Fortune writes

OCARINA MEDLEY 

(Inspired by the Legend of Zelda: Ocarina Of Time video game)


I. The Forest Temple


Negotiating vertigo architecture
in a tangled hotel of undead hosts
I stumble and wonder if I'm
simply sleeping in a side-effect
of what the Village Elder called
being alive


We never knew the word in the wax
museum hamlet of our youth
or the meaning of what happened to
the Elder...a meaning
I could not define for you
or comprehend for myself
as I set out for his pioneering
final wish


Childhood sleep painted no portraits
of a revolutionary field trip
Fate talked me into a vow of silence
I could not defy until the meaning
of your goodbye gift caught up
with the trot of my growth


The meaning
you could not define for me


Greener than the grass stains
on the splinter orphanage of my extremities
was I - the son of History -
in the ways and purposes of human skin
I would break from these unholy
halls of lurking art
disassemble all the royal blocks
sealing their ambition
and appeal to the Goddesses
for a writing off of this as a practice run
all for one sliver of vacation from this destiny
to learn the feeling of your fingertips
on the day I crossed the glorified
cliche of a bridge
for the paradox I thought
would drop me off with your gift
still flesh-warm and abstract
in my unprecedented hands


II. The Fire Temple


A childhood knack for rock gardening
was skewed into curled facade of chagrin
when acquaintance was made with a tribe
whose babies are raised on literal pebbles

(Rocks in the belly are sumo ambrosia
Cocoa and fruit are for artists)

Boulder entrees in a brainwashed beast's
volcanic vicinity humbled them from
poor choice of rival to diffident
prisoners of a war taken by tampered time
for a personified hog ride


Their penchant for dancing and brotherhood
euphemised the magnitude of my calling
from chosen to willing


The itch of their fabric was made bearable
when the molten necessity of their beatified
ruby's stolen nobility agonized me with
heat-seeking chicanes of insistent back-drafts
and door-painted mouse traps glaring
triumphantly from the come-hither perspective
of motion-fused hallways ignited


The gleam of their gauntlets implanted
a sumo invective in my demolition of
vindictive cells shushing brethren
who braved the red lake's rock causeways
for the release of their rambunctious captain


I coveted this summit's infernal virus
to thaw out the famine
unleashed by a tyrant's spite


The almighty ruby can dance on my chest
in the shrug of an integral bonus


III. A Night In The Water Temple


'When water fills the lake,
shoot for the morning light.'


Who's unearthly pen of purpose
spiked the medicinal lingo of
my life's mission statement with
the sweet calligraphy of a
redeemer's destiny


On what grounds of anticlimactic
credentials was I plucked from
the frozen context of forest green ignorance
and assigned to this twitchy box of a bath house
and its drowned doors spiteful currents
self-appointed damsels and
sea dweller duds


This I ponder as a hero
pampers his beleaguered feet
beneath the towel of an opportune torch
and inquires of his whimsical pet pearl
why an instrument of heaven's orchestra
could not compose a path to a shoehorn


With everyday gadgets of the gods
he is coming for my heart
and I will beat him with it
till the destiny of a redeemer wraps
its existence around the black dimensions
of my inferiority and makes
for the morning light

Steven Fortune writes

VANILLA BOY
 

Defining me
is like spelling out
a hundred-letter word
Essence of existence seized
in a vowel-less commute
through a dreamless sleep
between the suns
of definition and identity
Applications of passivity
become of me then bail
on potential to become me
Nothing here to see
say the signature police
Move along evolving as you were
Vicissitude's aloof
to the morose settlement
cited only in a mime around
the fringes of inclusion's
stunned recess
Outspokenness seduces
in its transparent slip of tongues
Intellectual arousal cowers
under impotence of
aural relevance
Praying to the ghost of
Helen Keller for a shadow
based influence
I resent my senses
on the basis of
their comfort on a fence
Why am I denied
essential evidence?
What nuances seal
the appeal of pretense?
I can lay no claim to tragedy
I'm too preoccupied
with verbal travesties
and inclinations of Van Gogh's spite
towards awarded senses
I'm inclined to take my eyes first
like an inconveniently
enlightened Oedipus
or have them taken from me
by a bastard boy
keen to my attempts
at nurturing to health
the wrongings of divine right
Gloucestershire sauce
imprints a bitter stain
on my incessant appetite
for gluttonous libations
of assured affirmations
Oedipus -- Nykolai Aleksander

Subhendu Kar writes

FLIGHT OVER A RAINBOW.


Unstinting iridescence by the blooming of rainbow to entice reflux of redolence in between rays and mire of rain beneath blue sky. 

brimming into beauty eyes absconded into sheen of rainbow to resonate by shy of ecstasy to sigh.


gravity ripples in ocean of red to tide in between creak and trough in rhythm within to gather joy in way of journey into untrodden home borrowed from illusive image of blue falling from mirror reflecting from nowhere.


Into another time in some other space let me flow into musky shore of coral blossom to sparkle like a rainbow in-between shadow and sunset into eyes of no vision to bleed redemption.


sweeping into gravity of blue let the wings of ripple extend onto root of blossom to sip nectar from curls of color for eyes to serenade soul of kiss yet to ensconce.


Where is the milky way in darkest hours by rigidity in ebb to uphold mellow path into spring of dream of yesteryears yet lapelled beneath the turn and twist to merge through saga of confluence unto tomorrow.


flighting into heaven eyes cease hold of emblazoned redolence to croon in cusp of joy for heart of soul to resuscitate form entrenched power of illusion.
Image result for rainbow paintings
 Like A Rainbow XL1 -- Peter Nottrott

Vitaliy Mashchenko paints

Warmth
 

Suresh Chandra Dwivedi writes

Mother Earth
     ( For Hon. Achut Samant )  


Earth is the best place for love and world peace. 

Lord Jagannath whispered this truth in my ears.
When I visited Lord Jagannath temple five years ago.
He often talks to me with love and affection.
Earth is the best place for brotherhood.
Earth is the best place for friendship.
Earth is the best place for equality.
It fills our heart, mind, soul with Karun Rasa.
Earth is the best place for Democratic values.
Earth is full of sympathy and empathy.
Earth is of many colours and many peoples.
But she is the mother of all of us. 
Earth teaches us virtues and morality.
She loves our children and grandchildren.
Oceans are like her green sari.
and mountains are her breast.
Earth teaches us to end all wars, and terrorism .
Casteism, favouritism, vanshavad, communalism and nepotism.
Mother Earth treats all her children equally.
Black, White, Yellow, Brown, Dalits, Girijan and Backwards.
She offers her nectar like milk to all of us.
She makes no distinction between man and woman nation and nation.
Earth teaches us to be modest and tolerant.
She is orderly and arranged like a beautiful painting.
Regularise and organise like her O friends!
Thank you Mother Earth! for giving us a comfortable berth.
Earth moves round the Sun.
And Sun kisses her beautiful face daily early in the morning.
Earth is the beloved of Lord Vishnu.
I seek permission from my mother for padasparsh.
Our liberal mother permits us to play, run, jump and enjoy  ourselves on her body



Terrence Sykes writes

ALMOSTLY
……for Margaret

Almostly forgotten poems

Seep & Steep
Into my soul
Questioning answers
            &
Answering answers
That never were questions
Are you questioning my answer
            Or
Merely answered my questioned
Poems forgotten almostly