The Parody of Fools December 29, 2006

In all their pompous glory & beautiful coloured forms,

The flock of merry gypsies, set asail the grasslands

like summer storms; there was not a thing to wonder;

T’was a monotony of each day, new places each day to see

and strange people to meet…fine play!

Showing off their crochet hats, the men; and maidens,

their patched linen skirts; displaying the fake jewles

which adorned their ears and necks, and the bells

on their bags, clinging with breeze…

…the flock kept its pace.

The men who rode the horses, seldom at their wives would see,

but never did they miss a chance to glimpes,

The bare-backs of young ladies on the streets;

Occasionally, even sneaking out at nights,

to warm their beds with their passions’ torch

Which scorched their lusts and burnt their hearts,

but lo! their life indeed was so gay…!

And the women? What of them?

Was their moral fudge all sweet? Or did it have the fungi warts too?

and well…all knew it did!

In every village and town they passed,

the tormented losers with their broken hearts,

Would come to seek the crystals’ advice,

which the gypsy maids used to contemplate on their pasts

and then putting together the designs mistique, the future

would be gazed to reveal the brightest hour;

Consoling those snipes at least for some time,

Making them believe their lives won’t go astray.

Instead, their carracks shall safely sail,

The violent tempests of their fates.

The play thus, goes on for many a days

those fools would always of frustrations die,

But who cared? the fortune-tellers got their share!

Ceremoniously on sundays, the rams and bulls,

would be slaughtered and with festive joy consumed…

…of course after the ritual screeching of “Hail Mary…Our Lady…”

Poor frogs would even, then stop to croak, but filled with glee,

for at least they could sing much better!

As the nights would fall, the flocks would halt,

to rest the bums of tired horsemen…which sored,

bumping against the rotten leather saddles.

Thus to rest, they all would retire and sleep…

and on one fine day, none would ever wake up again!

Thus, their lives, would come and go,

Not one bothered, nor caring to know

From nowhere they appeared, and back there they go,

But who cares to understand the lesson…

…which with them, in their graves do go?

T’is as common as the seasons or tides,

or as simple to know of the bees’ vice

Why then don’t we listen?

Is it just so disgraceful to soil our ears?

Oh! of is the wise is the one who knows naught?!

Ha! Human folly, what a glory…

Their empires rise and fall to dust

Their balloons of inflated prides do burst

What they do…in it lies their misery

What they think…in it lies their doom!

Their stings are filled with venoms raw,

nor bees, nor snakes, nor scorpions compete

These stings are their words, their merry rhymes…

…which they play on the organ of their defiled tongue!

No weapons they need, no canons to fire

No forts, no castles, no shields…no wars to win;

They speak…and their worlds are destroyed!

The sun and the moon and the heaven’s lights,

The seas and the clouds and the mighty skies;

with peity and disgust they gaze these flocks,

The flocks of animals, in human form!

The children divine of eternal light,

Like the specks of dust, which on a sunbeam’s a blight;

and their shadows thus cast, on the mirrors of thoughts,

which illude them, and seal their fates’ locks…forever!

These are the ones who know what they are,

yet, they know not, what they wish to know

and so as they are, conned and decieved by life,

They fall deepre and deeper in the labyrinths…of hellish delight.

What hell though and which heavens ?

They are, their God’s greatest plight;

Their God, dear God, the emperor of these goons…

and hence one too, the lazy fairy’s boon!

but hail! to the ones who thought this up, and now…

…they know not how!

But well, they at least make their ancestors proud,

What a proof this is…that they come from apes;

and are not the charlatans of divine grace!

Poor things, lost souls, they shall wander forever;

In the stretches of life’s eternal sketch.

The lands where they will, never find what they seek,

The treasures…oases, thich they know don’t exist!

And thus, we sum up, the parody of fools…who have all,

except some faith…no faith they have, in their hearts;

No faith in the little miracles of life, No faith, not at all…

…in the dreams they percieve.

Hence, they wander and wander along,

In search of just a word, which would free them all…

…but that one word, they know not, is within their heads;

Like a needle lost, in a huge haystack.

Ha! they prove t’is grass stuffed upstairs!

_____________________________________________

P.S.: This parody is in noway racist or discriminatory…I have nothing whatsoever against gypsies, it’s just an analogy.

El Rumbo de la Vida December 13, 2006

El rumbo de la vida, se parece tanto al rio,

El río del amor, el río de la lluvia;

La lluvia…y su agua celestial.

Aunque empiece pequeño,

Lentamente crece inmenso;

Aunque primeramente parece insconstante,

luego se va calmando.

El rumbo de la vida, se parece tanto al río,

Nos somos las ojas de otoño;

En su fluego tranquilo.

Dejar atrás qué ha pasado,

Siempre adelantar…como el tiempo;

No preocupar nunca…acerca del futuro,

Siempre adelantar.

El rumbo de la vida, se parece tanto al río,

Con sólo una meta…

…de alcanzar el mar.

Viviendo…sólo este momento,

Nada mas…continúemos fluyendo;

Apagando la sed de los transeúntes,

Continúe fluyendo…debajo del cielo abierto.

El rumbo de la vida, se parece tanto al río,

El río del amor, el río de la lluvia;

La lluvia…y su agua celestial.

_____________________________________________

SPECIAL THANKS….to Laura…for all the wonderful help she provided, and made this junk into real poetry ….muchas gracias Laura!!!!! xD!!

________________________________________

My first spanish poem…feels great!! Maybe its crap but its invaluable for me…now at least I can be confident about being able to pass my spanish exam =P…lolzz

English translation for those who don’t speak Spanish…

___________________________________________________

The course of life, it’s so much like a river,

The river of love, the river of rain;

Rain…and its heavenly waters.

Although it starts small,

Slowly it becomes huge;

Although it seems fickle at first,

Later…it calms down.

The course of life, it’s so much like a river,
We are like autumn leaves;

Which flow with the tranquil flow,

Leaving behind what is passed,

Always going on…like time;

Never preoccupied about the future

Always going on.

The course of life, it’s so much like a river,
With only one goal…

…to meet the sea.

Living only in this moment,

Nothing else…we flow on;

Quenching the thirsts of passers by,

Flow on…under the open sky.

The course of life, it’s so much like a river,
The river of love, the river of rain;
Rain…and its heavenly waters.

Go On…! December 10, 2006

Try not to make your life just long,
But try and make it contented and strongIt’s not your Needs but Deeds that count,
It’s the seeds of love that you sow count;The power of eternity lies with you,
And this is a fact not very newThen why you let your work unfulfilled?
The kingdom of humanity you have to build,So go on, now go on, just go on and on,
For only you can bring over a bright new dawn!

Carry Me On Your Morning Wings December 10, 2006

Carry me on your morning wings,

O dawn carry me to the sky…

Chasing the winds and over the clouds,

up above the rainbow high;

It’s to the sun I want to go…

…away from the cold bleak night,

Breaking all bonds with the mortal world

to experience the feeling divine.

Carry me on your morning wings,

O dawn carry me up high…

It’s the soothing cool warmth of the early sun

I want to feel and enjoy;

Take me there on your morning wings

where everything is just fine,

No drop of rain, no burning flame

would disturb me as all’s just fine.

Carry me on your morning wings,

O dawn carry me to the sky…

I want to count the countless clouds,

And feel the timeless light;

Take me where pure love is abound,

and is eternal indeed…

And only sound that you can hear,

is the waltz of love resound.

The Spring December 10, 2006

My rain dance lasted for night long

But now its dawn I see,

And it is the time to sing the song

from so long I wanted to sing.

I sing about the merry birds

I sing of nature’s bliss,

I sing the song of picturesque woods

That stand lifeless and still.

Silhouette of dawn in woods looks like

spotlighting first flower of spring,

And wood-winds making it gently rock

On the rhythm of gushing streams.

The snow on the branches is melting now

Exposing the lichens beneath,

And ugly moths breaking their cocoons

transform to butterflies, as we dream.

The joyous ants are again on their march

Celebrating the arrival of spring,

And squirrels coming out of their holes say

“Rejoice!” for it is the ‘spring’.

_________________________________________

This is one of the old poems I wrote last year.

Untitled December 2, 2006

__________________________________

On the roof I lay,

watching the clouds;

and then the stars at night,

Ah! a rose just did pout! Wait! it’s not a stone,

it screamed just now;

but why does it hide?

Think not more, for you know why. Look into my eyes though,

and see yourself;

but when I look in yours,

It’s the eternity I see. So you say you know it all?

then look at this stick;

tell me what it is,

don’t know why, I just see the sand!

A sphere in a sphere,

and just void in between;

nothing else, there be…

so where is the child you see?

Giant waves of the oceans blue,

sweep the shores each day;

but what do they leave behind?

A shell..in which our worlds be!

Winds too blow the leaves now,

of the flaming trees of autumn red;

they do go far away…yes they do,

but they return fresh and green.

So only this water, my concern be

and the pitcher it lives, does not;

oh! a thorn in my foot..what a shame!

I love it still, now it does be mine!

________________________________