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Friday, April 26, 2019

I don't think we read how-to-write-poetry books on its art and craft to learn how to DIY but to appreciate the writers of those books if they are able to make their books interesting. In the course of it we may or may not pick up some helpful tips on how to write poetry, but the aim of those writers is not exactly, I would think, to help us hone poetry writing skills but to show us how intention may be allied to performance and whether it can be said to have succeeded in terms of effect or affect on the reader, this leading more to questions of criticism and appreciation than of teaching how to write poetry. Learning of alliteration, assonance and consonance, for instance, and then reading of lines supposedly about the cooing of doves and the immemorial murmur of bees in elms, the aim is to make the reader ask is the alliteration done on purpose to imitate the sound of the thing mentioned and is it effective in how the reader perceives it being coincidental with the writer's intention, in which case the writer is said to have succeeded etc. This is of course a very new critical close reading approach and example I have given, but I was addressing a concern raised by Vivek that the writing of poetry is best learned by those reading lots of it, good examples, and not books on the art and craft of poetry. Neat divisions don't exist, so to end with, it is possible to learn by reading poems of masters and books on writing poetry just as it is possible to not learn how to write 'good' poetry, whatever that means to each individual, either way. I was reading the list of books presented, they all come from the West. Except for the one posted later by Vivek by Arvind Krishna Mehrotra. Having both written poetry and written a small pamphlet on how to write poetry found here "https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/222992", and read enough of poetry and of these books my own personal contribution is more than these books I have been helped largely by manifestos in trying to figure out a modus operandi to how to write poetry, or a strategy or an overall game plan, or even a specific way of approach or philosophy as to why one writes poetry and what or how so am putting some links here based on things I read that influenced me in my younger days.
https://www.societyforasianart.org/…/manifesto_futurista.pdf
https://www.tcf.ua.edu/…/SurManif…/ManifestoOfSurrealism.htm
http://writing.upenn.edu/libr…/Tzara_Dada-Manifesto_1918.pdf
http://writing.upenn.edu/libra…/Blast/Blast1-1_Manifesto.pdf - brilliant! 
http://www.languageisavirus.com/…/william-s-burroughs-cut-u…
(this last link is exquisite also for the generators making poetry redundant, despite the seriousness noticed in its practitioners these days.)
I am unable to include Ungaretti and Mandelstam as the pdfs are not on the net.
My list has the same problem which is it is also Eurocentric or American, except for link to my book and the rasa theory one but all the same I think going through these things has helped me a lot in framing welcome diversionary apperçus into poetry and out of it so I share it believing it may help others on the site too

Off prompt

I see the moon
in the pond's black night
I croon my poem
to its twin
I write these words
to no one
Only God reads
and the universe
I am content
The world deserves them not
Like red rose-petals that sway
blushing, at its touch
e'en in the lightest breeze
are my poems
I imagine
meeting
someone that sensitive
We will know from just looking
at each other
what kaajal lines our eyes
this night;
whether that of love, truth
tears or lies
The voices of
the speechless ones
will hold no secrets
for both of us
And when we hold hands
the silence of our laughter
will shake life's very
foundations.

Off prompt

fingers
always accusing
trying to subtly
point out faults
bring you down
when faced with them
turn on
tune in
drop out
so it is like
water off a duck's back

Glopowrimo #26 - 2

GLOPOWRIMO #26- 2
suddenly
one may think of me
that one
or that other one
one of those ones
who used to
visit me daily
spend so much time with me
but now
prefers not to
as there is nothing
anymore to be got from
it
suddenly
while dusting a table
with today's newspaper
or perhaps
at some sight
of someone
who looks a bit like me
suddenly
in some angle
of the light
or at some strain of music
a snatch of it
heard
through some open window
while passing by in a car
or the smell of a particular dish
suddenly
or the taste of some drink
or while pushing back a lock of her hair
and suddenly
I too may remember
and wonder
about someone else
I did that to, too
forgot
went away from
wanting to give nothing more
tired of giving
or having nothing more to give
or about the one that went away
the one who flew away
the one that got away
one went astray
one who flew east
or one who flew west
or one who flew over the cuckoo's nest
one went south
one went north
or why this circumlocution

of one not at rest
friend become stranger
or lover become ex
whether she thinks of me or not at all
suddenly, one moment
one fine sudden day

Glopwrimo 26

Glopowrimo #26
"There is none righteous, no, not one, all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God."
Thou shalt not kill
Wrote God with his finger
On a clay tablet
And gave it to Moses
who came down
got angry, and immediately
made some of their own
kill others of their own
The sons of Levi
killed the other Israelites
for the sin of idolatry
while Moses broke the clay tablets
Thou shalt not kill
God wrote again
and gave it, this time
to Moses, in stone
engraved, so that
it could not be broken
and then they killed
and killed and killed
to capture what
Abraham had called
the Promised Land
Thou shalt not kill
said Jesus, to all
but after some years
of getting killed
Christianity
became the state religion of Rome
From being martyrs, they changed it
to being a religion of international killers, galore.
Thou shalt not kill
said Jesus to all
so they burned the witches
held the Crusades
massacred the Saracens and Turks
who killed back
over the Holy Land
hung the heretics
Catholics killed Protestants
Protestants killed Catholics and each other
All in the name of
Thou shalt not kill
Thou shalt not kill
even an ant
said Vardhamana Mahaveera
and Gautama Buddha, later
but Chandragupta Maurya
the Jain chakravarti
and emperor Ashoka
at Kalinga,
both gave the story
quite another twist
as does the fact
 that there are samurais who are senseis
in China, and in Japan
who are Buddhist monks.
Yes. Thou shalt not kill.
Thou shalt not harm
or hurt anyone
or anything
the ancient rishis
taught
in Mahabharath.
Thou shalt not kill
Thou shalt kill
said the Aryans
Kill the asuras
Kill the suryavanshis
So Rama killed
Ravana
Krishna helped Arjuna
to kill
Karna
Thou shalt not kill
Thou shalt not kill
Thou shalt not kill
an innocent soul
said the prophet Mohammed
Peace be on him
but the Mughals came
and killed the ones
who live in what is now
North India
Just or All the same
Thou shalt not kill
Time would end
if I kept on listing
Buddhists in Myanmar killing the Rohingyas
Jews in Germany killed in the Holocaust by Nazis
and in Russia killed in the pogroms by Orthodox Christians
Palestinians in Israel killed by the Jews
Hindus in Pakistan and Bangladesh who got killed
Muslims in India now getting lynched
Christians in Sri Lanka who just got bombed
Partition killings on both sides of the border
The British who killed Indians
The whites who killed the blacks and the aboriginals
who had earlier killed each other as tribals
Godse who killed Gandhi
Sikhs who killed Hindus and Muslims
Hindus and Muslims who killed Sikhs
Those gruesome riots
When Indira was killed
where Sikhs were killed
Communists who kill everyone else
Those everyone else who kill communists
Hindutva fanatics who killed Gauri, Passare and Dabolkar
Atheists who were killed
Atheists who kill others
China that kills

Thou shalt not kill

Animals killed
Birds killed
Trees and plants killed
Insects killed
Water, air, earth, fire, ether all killed, murdered and so the earth killed
Husbands who kill wives
Wives who kill men
Men who kill women
Children who kill parents
Parents who kill children
Families, tribes and clans
who kill each other
and others' families, tribes and clans
Rich who kill the poor
Poor who kill the rich
Caste-based killings
Honour killings
Serial killers
Random loss of temper or self-control killings
Revenge killings
Money-based killings
Suicides
Fratricides, matricides
patricides, pesticides
genocides, homicides
every other fucking -cides
Pakistanis who kill
Indians who kill
Armenian genocide
Serbian genocide
Syrian genocide
Bosnian, Herzegovnian and Latvian genocides
The Sri Lankan genocide
Governments that kill
Armies that kill
Nations that kill
Laws that kill
Law keepers who kill
The lawless who kill
The law breakers who kill
The outlaws who kill
The in-laws who kill
Everybody takes a side
Nuclear deaths
Hiroshima Nagasaki
World War I
World War II
Bhopal deaths
Chernobyl and Fukushima deaths
Thou shalt not kill
Everyone's a killer
Everyone kills
Thou shalt not kill
Thou shalt not kill
Thou shalt not kill
Thou shalt not kill
Thou shalt not kill
Thou shalt not kill
Thou shalt not kill
Thou shalt not kill

Thursday, April 25, 2019

Glopowrimo 25

Glopowrimo #25
That icy heart
those icy hearts
skin sandalwood brown
that would
if knifed
bleed ashen drops
yet still fragrant
those faces malevolent that made me drown
The skeletal veins
of crushed, cold, leaves
slush-white-wet
that carpet the ground
under yon black-branched sky-leaning trees
The bitter-gourd tasting nipples
of the she-wolves
in this untimely rain's torrential sleet
stinging their skin like needles of guilt
at being unable to reach their wolf-cubs, to feed
The black horse galloping through
the snow-covered sunflower fields
on which sits a ghostly damask-red clad woman
a black rose pinned to her bared leprous-white breast's crevice
Pierced by the dagger of her ice
My heart feels heavy, sinking; this dark, gloomy night
Whilst the season whispers "everything dies"
Does this last season want to take my life?


All about imagery

A simple note I just wrote that someone in here may find useful based on today's Glopowrimo prompt.
For those who don't know the kinds of imagery there are and that you can use:
Based on Keats' To Autumn'
They are:
1. Visual imagery - for seeing. "the vines that around the thatch-eves run"
2. Auditory imagery - for hearing. "in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn.. lambs BLEAT...crickets sing...the red breast WHISTLES"
3. Tactile imagery - describing the sensation of touch. "barred clouds..."Touch the Stubble"-plains with rosy hue"
4. Gustatory imagery - sense of taste. "to...plump the hazel shells with a 'Sweet' kernel"
5. Olfactory imagery - sense of smell "drowsed with the 'Fume' of poppies"
6. Kinetic imagery - sense of movement "thy 'hair soft-lifted' by the 'Winnowing' wind."
7. Organic imagery - describing a thing without naming it in such a way the reader correctly guesses it name, i.e; accurately. If the great ode or poem "To Autumn" did not have a name, it would be a perfect example of this.
9. Related to this is onomatopoeia where through sound you capture the sound of the thing being described - "And gathering swallows TWITTER in the skies"
10. And last of all synesthesia - "Synesthesia is a condition in which one sense (for example, hearing) is simultaneously perceived as if by one or more additional senses such as sight. Another form of synesthesia joins objects such as letters, shapes, numbers or people's names with a sensory perception such as smell, color or flavor."
Example:
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
"And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees..."
The last four lines are an example of synesthesia where Keats connects the sun and autumn to being conspiratorial innoculators, female and male, lovers, mischievous just past youth friends with benefits ("close-bosom friend of the maturing sun"), mother and father, making babies, having children, bringing them up, growing them- sexually, sensuously - making the shells plump, and the gourds swell - the inversion of verbs is really effective - and the flowers bud or of making them in other words pregnant, mixing sight and feel/touch in those images and making us see the process from outside/inside - a curious ability only the best or most deranged poets have!

Wednesday, April 24, 2019

Sermon not on the mount

Easter week thoughts or musings
Good morning, everyone.
Sentences that matter in the Bible are "do not be afraid" and "be of good cheer." It is true that the devil walks around as a roaring lion looking whom he might devour but faith is to see that we have already won the victory, by believing in the example of Christ. What does this mean, practically? It means that each morning you get up and are thankful to God for all his loving kindnesses and tender mercies. Yes, someone may be planning death and destruction to you, unknown to yourself, but your job is to leave his downfall to the law, the government, the army, the police etc., not to mention the ten universal commandments or his conscience by which he will be judged. But honestly, as the times are tough we have something more that has to be revived, and that is the need for prayer and faith in the word of God. And the golden rule. Jesus protected himself and others through prayer and faith in and obedience to and love of God's word as he knew that beyond a point even the authorities put in place to help us go about living peaceful lives, we who are ordinary citizens, would be ineffective as we are not facing powers that are human but constellated into groups as spiritual wickedness, satanic forces, evil spirits, and such can only by countered by prayer, alone and in groups, and love of God and obedience to his word after faith in it. These lesser powers from down below can only be defeated by the greater power of God and his allies from up above. Thus, just like black holes eat up all in its path, we become suns that give light to all in our paths to grow and flourish in green earths and this destroys the darkness and spreads light to bring about God's kingdom on earth. All the best, have a lovely day  Pray without ceasing in your hearts for this is the will of God in Christ concerning us but with faith that he hears and has already heard and answers speedily when our prayers are aligned with His will. Most of all don't fear death as whatever comes after this can't be all that much worse for ordinary people and may be better and if it is nothing then that is fine too and don't worry about those left behind as it is not your job to bother about them, those left living will do that job. If no one does it also, God will, so do not worry or be anxious or think too much, in short, but trust God and live happily. So be it.

Glopowrimo #24

Glopowrimo #24 Illustrated dictionaries and illustrating dictionaries

Dictionary illustrations - for Dorling Kindersley version 2.0
What if
there was a dictionary
that read your mind
and when you turned to,
say,
for instance,
a word like
breasts
showed you not just any
generic pair
but the breasts of the one
you were thinking of?
Wouldn't that be
curious
& peculiar?
Curiouser and peculiarer
would be
one in which when you look at a picture
it shows you the word
you call that in
your mind,
like, say,

for instance,
for example,
suppose you called her breasts
judies,
in case her name was Judy,
and
turning to the picture of those mammary glands
the page says
instead of the usually used word
this one.
Judies!
Would such dictionaries -
Illustrated dictionaries and illustrating dictionaries -
that read you
and your mind -
not like the ones
that you and your mind read -

be welcome
or hated,
dreams
or nightmares?!


Tuesday, April 23, 2019

Glopowrimo #23

Glopowrimo #23 Ettadimoorkhan**
What one loves
is the unpredictability
of being coiled up inside
in the empty water pot
left in the bathroom
by them in monsoon
and out the next
and their fear
They did not know I am my own master
though by themselves they cannot make out
mostly
whether master or mistress of my fate I be
Then I slither out and they freeze
not knowing
on many nights
I have played with their child
swaying to my hood, tongue and eyes
herself asleep
They freeze and then they brandish sticks
I slip, slide, laugh and I hiss
as long as that hole is not found and blocked
I know that this game is merely hit and miss
I love the green fields
There I am free
Even the mongoose is afraid of me
Sometimes in the water I see me
All length and scales and darting tongue and shades
of black and gold that women love
As for red, that's only if I bite
which I seldom do except for prey
All gleaming I come and all gleaming I go
I am the architect of my own fate!
*Eda murkha, they call the ones they consider a villain
Not knowing I like my fun, jokes and games
as much as they -
the only pestilential race!

** 8 foot cobra
* you cobra

Monday, April 22, 2019

A poem
A day
Keeps
The Blues
Away.

Millais

Glopwrimo #22

Note- I have purposely presented the pair as mother and child, though to Millais they were two sisters, by taking poetic licence.
She hides in the fold of her mother's head scarf
Her blue skirt tattered and threadbare, worn, torn
She looks at the double rainbows, afar
(The sky still dark, though the rain gone away)
A rare sight, first-time seen; but breathes not to her
Mother, on whose scarf a butterfly fli(r)ts
To its soft texture and rich colour, drawn
Again invisible to its neighbour
The fields are golden and green-yellow with corn
The trees thicker green, and afar are houses and cottages
An accordion in her mother's lap is
Which she plays when in town to get money for them
There are sheep and cows in the meadows and further off horses
Nearby there is grass, brambles, wild white-lilies and there's the texture of the cloth
worn by her and the girl, the brown shades and the blacks
The beauty of the scene is so wrought
That we could gaze for hours at it
Trying to decipher each note, each bird, each sun's mote
(And feel our hearts' swell and our breasts' burst
And our eyes begin to moisten, in hurt.


Millais, if ever I met you I would ask
Why did you grieve me thus with such art?
So perfect in its eye for detail
Making us cry out, why is she thus?
And her daughter, peeping out from behind
Her mother's long head-covering, no word
In her mouth, as painting speaks through
Sight to the eyes, and to the heart
Not to the touch or the taste or the smell
Her boots showing she is meant to walk miles
With her mother, so they have to be a hardy pair
Such art makes us fall down and worship, after
We shed our tears; makes less of us, and more
Realising our treasures, and wanting to help
Those who are richer in some things like music but not
As fortunate in some other, like us
And where is her husband?
Or lover, or father
Or mother?
We become all that to her
We want to fill up the need in the small girl
And rush to their aid. What a painting!
We bless God who gave such power to man
To pictorialise such a piteous scene so well
And gave us the power to complete his art
By unlearning 'seeing' and the 'art' of thinking
By re-seeing and re-thinking on its depths and improving our selves
This poem began as an ekphrastic ramble
Forgive me if it meandered into sermonising
Real tears made me wax didactic
Forgive me, take what you can, and leave the rest.

Rising star

I'll turn up, the proverbial bad penny
Just when you think you finished me off 
And I am done with and gone forever
Though you want to get rid of me
You all who think you can shake me off
Like rain after a thunderstorm
from your raincoat
or snow you can brush off your coat
in winter
Like drops of sweat you flick off
And patterns on the window pane
Just a passing phase
But I'll be there, still, among the rising stars
Always, and all ways.

Sunday, April 21, 2019

Pinakini Naik's first ever review is of my book Scream and Other Urbane Legends

Sharing my review on the awesome book Scream and other Urbane Legends ! 😃
Scream and other Urbane Legends by the creative powerhouse, poet, critic, academicianDr. AV Koshy is an eclectic collection of 28 short stories and a novella. It features some hard hitting, surreal stories that invite the reader to drop linear thinking, stay alert and dive into exploring twist and turn dreamscapes of fiction and fantasy where unique plots shape shift, quicksilver-like on the story teller’s perceptive canvas.
Once I picked up the book, I couldn’t put it down and finished it in a single sitting, a thoroughly enjoyable read indeed. The stories bump and flow into each other creating an eccentric rhythm not unlike the onset of vivid rapid eye movement (REM), lucid dreams, etched and borne in the cradle of paradoxical sleep, impacting the reader’s subconscious mind in a such a way that it tends to revisit certain plot twists in the mind’s eye to gain deeper insight into the stories and comprehend what might have been missed in the first read.
Death is a recurring theme used as a common thread to interweave the stories with an existential ambience. The minimalist and non attached style of narration reveals what’s absolutely necessary and leaves the rest to imagination, open to interpretation, which works in the favor of the book. This deliberate space allows the reader to absorb, contemplate, savor what has been left unsaid.
Some stand out moments in the short stories were in ‘Aouda: The Confluence’ where the character, Asur, transitions effortlessly from driving a car on a hot desert highway to swimming underwater in the ocean to have a casual conversation with a brown seahorse; Mystical and intriguing viewpoints presented in ‘The Creation Myths on Poetry: A Trialogue’ require a reread to be fully absorbed; The understated melancholic beauty of the short but eloquent piece ‘The Last Scarecrow’ is brilliant in its craftsmanship; The sci-fi story ‘Written on the Body’ reminded me a bit of the movie ‘Cloud Atlas’ directed by the Wachowski brothers, in how beautifully the futuristic scenes flow, then culminate into the ultimate sacrifice of love and life offered by Bride Rose and Kay who save the world with a complete reboot.
The book saves the best for the last and ends with a beautifully woven, intense, self exploratory novella, Anamika. The evocative prose has an autobiographical tone,layered with subtle sensuality, erotic at times, embellished with inlaid poetic gems throughout, keeping the reader deeply involved to its poignant, unforgettable end. A beautiful one liner that stood out and is self-evident in the story, “ Poetry communicates before its understood. “
To conclude, Scream and other Urbane Legends is an introspective book with a whimsical flavor, best recommended for readers with a poetic bent of mind or an eclectic mindset or anyone who is willing to step out of the box.



Easter 2019

Glopowrimo 20 -  Easter 2019 or The Surrealism of the Apocalypse
When he told them
tears in his eyes
they did not believe in it
that he wanted to gather them under his wings
like a mother hen does its chickens
that: in those days woe unto women
especially those who give suck
The falcon can no longer hear the falconer
We met them today, early in the day
It was Easter 2019
Terrible with no beauty born
There had been a great sign in the sky
The fire with its smoke that rose to the skies
and was watched by many observant eyes
while the spire fell down
The bats flew out
The belfries and the towers hung upside down
London and France fell down along with the other burning cities
The angels were finally released
and started to swing their censers
the smoke of which drove them all out of the temple
so they could no longer stand and serve
even the ministers
till it was fulfilled, of the curses and the punishments
The seven lightnings flashed
The seven thunders roared
The seven unclean frogs came hopping out of the mouth of the beast
The sky rolled back
The stars fell down with the figs
The moon turned black
The sea became blood
The flying scorpions came out to sting
Plagues fell upon the earth
like dead meteorites and comet showers
The ice caps melted
The end times had begun
The blood rose in the streets to the windshields of the vehicles
The thick viscous blood of the red-dimmed tides
And God withdrew
In a cloak of austerity
Pale as the horse ridden by death that came last
But before that came the other four
and the one that was red
had fire, fell, in its eyes
and the sound of thunder and hail in its tread
These are the days when the dragon rears its head
for it knows that its time is short
But men bit their tongues
and would not repent
So the curses will be full-fledged
For none turn to God
or what is evident
of God made to them in the things of nature
and their own conscience
and in Jesus risen from the dead
so that even if they hear they can no more comprehend
The light is gone
for a little while
It is the time of the darkness now
But the woman with the moon
under her feet
who wears the sun in her hair
whose face shines like
the midday sun
and walks on rainbows and pauses at the turning of the stairs and gives birth to the little child
who will lead all the nations with the lion and the lamb
is waiting in the wings
to upstage
after this carnival and frenzy of death
to be unleashed upon the world for a time
to bring back the balance again
Lady of the flowers
not desert born, but brought up there
who is this that you bred?
Are these not the children of the one
who is risen from the dead
Is this not the bride he will wed?
Will time not become a scroll he rolls up
on the day he judges the quick and the dead?
Do not surprised then at how many are going to be found undead
Or if the streets run rife with blood
and children be found headless
women grieved, and torn apart
and every other horror witnessed
For it all must be
before it can be
that human-kind again is saved.
So bear with me
and my ill-tidings
and patience may gain you a berth
in the new heaven
and the new earth
when the darkness passes, and there is again no dearth.

Till then. I am loath to tell you
it's only the beginning of sorrows.

Saturday, April 20, 2019

My poem published today on Poetry!

https://view.joomag.com/glomag-glomagapril2019/0385545001555810578?short

Easter thoughts

Happy Easter - Christ is risen!
In the most ancient book according to some in the Western world which is the epic of Gilgamesh Gilgamesh sets out on a journey to find eternal life after building his famous wall for which he slays the so called monster Humbabu and conquers Lebanon' forests of cedar etc. He fails to do so as though he manages to get the plant that will give men eternal life and everlasting youth on his return journey where he dreams of giving it to all his people, a snake comes and steals it away from him.
The journey of the mythic hero, Gilgamesh, culminates when he fights with Iostre, his goddess, again unwisely, and dies as a great king who could not win eternal life but is famous for his battle, friendship, victory and the wall as well as the epic itself which he claims to be written by him, that shows Babylon was great during his time.
The journey of Christ is the culmination of and the reversal of what is wrong with the epic of Gilgamesh, where Christ slays the dragon/serpent Satan, builds an eternal kingdom, the kingdom of God, and comes back form the dead to give eternal life and everlasting youth to all who believe and fittingly his resurrection day celebration came to be named, albeit paradoxically, after 'Iostre'! Christ symbolizes the downfall of the earthly, corrupt Babylon/Rome and its idea of kingship with its policies of colonialism, imperialism and expansionism and environmental degradation and the arrival of a new Jerusalem which is based on entirely spiritual principles that is therefore undying, eternal and infinite and not a political kingdom, as it is based on the principles of faith, hope, love, mercy, grace, etc., and is the fulfilment of the 'promised land' of Moses. This is actually the significance of Easter, to have peace on earth and good will to all human beings. The message of peace on earth has been extended and kept alive most in the East by Buddha, Guru Nanak, and others of that spiritual mettle.

Easter poem

Before the Morning
Before you hold the record for height
you have to hold the record for depth
Only after descending below the lowest of the low
can one's ascent lead to the Throne of thrones
Hence while his body lay cold in the grave
his spirit travelled to hell and to Hades
There preached he freedom to the captives
who had been washed away by the flood
and had not had the chance to hear Noah preach
and got from there the keys of hell and death
then ascended to Parudisa
Where he ate of the tree of life
and shared the fruit with the thief on the cross
soaring then to the heights of heaven
past and through and in all of the seven
He got the keys of the heavens
Re-entered his (c)old body
on the slab in the cave in a shroud
waiting for the first crack of dawn
while outside they mourned, not knowing his path
the one of the perfect, final, conquering, archetypal Hero
who has to defeat everything
sin, flesh, the world, death, and hell
before he can put on the crown
of the Lord of the Immortals
and ascend, after shewing himself
to the pre-ordained witnesses
to come back again, when the rest of the heroes
and heroines are become complete
in number and in power
to lead them in the golden reign
for the New Age to be born
when there will be no more tears

Published :)

http://www.destinypoets.co.uk/elegy-for-tina-by-her-brother-immediately-elder-to-her/

Published :)

http://duanespoetree.blogspot.com/2019/04/a-v-koshy-writes.html

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