A backlog, commitment and tribute to - H for Halcyon

I have a task, a life's purpose
I seek your grace, Kindly oblige
The force that you are, you can swallow me alive
But humble and meek, your assistance I seek.
A tiny fleck that I am, like a droplet in your volume
I laugh at my own audacity - look whom I am set to charm!

Borne out of hope, bearing progeny
I take up on the mission of building an abode
Look where I have come, into your fine and fierce presence
I seek to shelter under your waves of persistence.
Don't lap me in, let me stay afloat
Let me nurture my young, in this tempest - be my lifeboat.

Oh, where is the meek to go to seek
Other than to the brave and the bold
You house a universe of species I was told
In your belly and inside your depths
It seems there's a world that unfolds.
Who am I, what do I measure up to?
I only hope to tend to my little brood.

Give me some calm, give me some quiet
Give me a hand hold, so in your might I delight!
Make a little room for me, a teeny tiny spot
I shall stay in my place in the space you allot.
I'll float like a twig, glowing in the winter solstice
Once my fledglings emerge, I shall bow to my hostess
Your blessings I seek in my pursuit lofty but weak.
Be my patron - coexisting in this vastness.
As I fulfill my purpose, as I redeem my existence.

And long after this episode, you and I would linger
In forms and in abstract - inspiring legends
When they think of me, they think of grit
When they think of you, they think of grace.
In the embrace of this grit and grace
Dreams and hopes emerge, life missions merge.
For you'll be the mighty and I'll be the mild
You'll be the force, I'll be destiny's child.

Picture by Wendy Wei - Pexels

Spin

Day after day

Life flips by

Like one long weekend

Here now, much anticipated

Gone now, leaving you unsated.

What remains?

Experience, laughter

Sorrow - following after.

The wheel - In motion

Bringing in the yin and yang

You feel love now, abandonment now in a pang!
The wheel - In rotation

The spin of cycles

Uphills and downhills

Gains and Losses

There's another one of those wheels

Actually a half a dozen more

Here and there, along the spine

Leading to the road divine.

Right in the heart center

The love spot if you will

Lies the fountain of bliss it is said

It is also said, Spinning it is a skill.

The chakra - spun on full speed

Down the road of joy would lead.

Don't outsource the spinning 

Get it in rotation on your own

Give you some self love my love

Give you some self worth all above.

What's within is there for seeking

What's without is a mere mirage.

So day after day

When life spins by

Seek to love yourself

Cause there's no magic beyond self reliance.

Photo by Ovidio Rey 

Matt and Bessie time

 I'll drag you along

Wherever I go 

Better you comply

Resisting? Don't even try!

I'll need you to snuggle

To ponder over life's muddy lanes

Its twists and turns

Its unforeseen pains.

Not just a stuff toy

But you are a perennial joy

My coping mechanism

My silver lining

To the dark clouds.

Sulk not - 

Spring to life

Don't act like a thing

You are a whole entire being.

Follow me in stride

Be me light, be my guide.

I know I need to look inside

But may be just may be

You are a manifestation of my soul, amplified!

Have my back, with me abide.

Fierce feller, My story teller

Join me in the narration

Of many a emotion.

Stop being just a stuff toy

My darling Matt, my wonder boy

Spring to life, sway that mane

You are my shower, I am  your hurricane.

Bessie dearest sends you this urge

Come and color her life mundane.

Pictured - Life versions of Matt and Bessie, shot by someone who in in sync with my imagination. _/\_

Drips

Hooded in somber detachment

He purses his lips

Closes his senses.

Little flecks of color

Tiny drips of glitter

Stick to his skin

cling to his  sense.

Silence his defense

Reflection his armor

The stunningly stunned

The endearingly spun

Carrying those splashes

Of gashes

With stoic grounding.

These are what meets the eye

What lies inside, unseen

Are  may be

Those unfathomable depths

That play peek a boo

Showing only what can be seen

Urging me to feel the in-between.

I hope not

That my insight fails me

Lost in the mesmerizing Glimpse.

Photo by Ivan Siarbolin from Pexels

Smelly Balladry

Somewhere, in the middle of nowhere

A housewife sits by her nook table

Peeling Garlic.

The pods feel snug in her hand

Like a prank gift

Wrapped in layers of tissue.

She uses her paring knife

And remembers a tip from a chef's video

Trying to pry out the cloves 

Like a magician pulls out bunnies from his hat!

No such luck, no such magic

Happens at her humble nook table

In her clumsy butter fingers!

She leaves magic to magicians and tries to do some 'being present'

"Zen isn't peeling potatoes and thinking of God

Zen is peeling potatoes"

The tidbit reminds her to be in Zen

And just peel garlic, and not to think of God

Or the evening dinner that needs to be cooked

Or an insult she endured as a teen

And the comebacks she thinks of now

After all these years, 

To those bullies and ruffians.

She pulls her mind back to the present

As she pulls out the juicy cloves

That transfer their pungency to her fingertips

May be to her apron and dress as well, in the process!

She thinks yet again, of the laundry load

Of a shower to wash off the linger of smell.

"Phew" she exclaims

"Why do you fly off my hands like a helium balloon?"

As the pod keeps slipping off her dainty fingers.

"Are you speaking to a garlic?"

The toddler stops coloring and looks up in disbelief

Her mom doesn't cease to surprise her.

Just the other day, the mom spoke to the seedlings in her veggie patch.

Cuckoo lady.

Isn't it a blessing, almost a favor

That the members of the family are blissfully unaware

Of what the cuckoo lady writes?

An ode to peeling garlic!

Among other goofy topics.

May be the housewife

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere

Is better off speaking to herself

Or to a garlic pod.

It might seem odd,

But she doesn't seem to ask for anyone to applaud.

Photo credit - Skitterphoto

The Finale

The birds fly in huge numbers

Looking like flecks spun across the sky

Petals from new blooms cascade to the ground

Like snow fall being sifted through a filter

Sniffles emerge, the palette of nature in full swing

Smudging color on the sepia tones

Tulips peek their pretty faces up

The groundhog has a field day

This can't be the last season - but what if it is?

U stand alone, pondering in the scene

Bright rays breaking a sweat on the back

Kids putting up lemonade stands

Random stalls of fresh picked fruit offer the juicy solace

Either side of the muddy ruddy road to nowhere.

A stroll on the beach perhaps

Your sunscreen streaks white patches on the face

Making you look like a Viking in action

Days longer - Sun shining stronger 

This can't be the last season - But what if it is?

Are the branches on fire?

You wonder! But then - they sway like enticing dancers

Showing off warm colored tresses

Reds, yellows, oranges - in all variations possible

Occurring on trees, like they dyed their hair ombre

Making a fashion statements

The harvest season emerges in full bloom

Jack O lanterns on doorways

Grin at you, promising a fun time

This can't be the last season - but what if it is??

You walk in the stark chill

Bare branches skinny dipping

In spine twisting cold

Like they'd gone bonkers. Like dare devils

That throw caution to air 

And challenge the frost to obliterate them.

Icicle lights shine through their natural counterparts on the edges of the roof

You hear festive music, faintly lingering in the background

While bright faces gather around the dinner table 

Wafting with smells of cinnamon buns and hearty stews

This can't be the last season - but what if it is?

You sit through the flashing and flipping

Of days after days, 

Seasons after seasons - the 'to do lists' keep piling up

While a sense of eternity in this worldly garb

Makes you sit snug and sing like a grasshopper

That lives in the day, having a gala time, doing nothing.

Nothing isn't a bad thing - it is the thing if you will!

This nothing sounds like everything in another paradigm

But you'll save that tale for another ponder

You germinate seeds of everness in your egoness

This can't be the last season - But, just for argument's sake - 

What if it is?

Pic credit - Liam Ortiz