The Poetry Marathon

Surrender

From a century of mistakes that I could choose to make
I chose what put the laws of love at stake

I am fire, he, the sumptuous calling sky
I am earthbound, he, heavenly high
In passion irrevocable, I betray my creation
Where, my binding tradition, do I find my aspiration?

From a century of mistakes that I could choose to make
I chose what put the laws of love at stake

I am the soul of his love, he utterly unaware
I am those desires inconsolable, bounds beware
In the ringing of the wind and the caress of the rain
How long creation, must my heart you detain?

From a century of mistakes that I could choose to make
I chose what put the laws of love at stake

I am a distant twinkle, he a wonder blinding
I am a drizzle bashful, he a deluge in hiding
In nights of wonder wandering the unholy
Nature, why may I not make him mine solely?

From a century of mistakes I could choose to make
I chose what put the laws of love at stake

I am evident, existing, he, unnoticed a thought
I am burning, sinking, he, the refuge sought
In the forever bubbling, singing stream
O life cruel, why is he only a dream?

Tradition, creation, nature and life, may all you take
I gather apologies but no regret for my mistake
For I willfully surrender to each error I make
And put all laws of love at stake

Hunter
Who could find serenity in hunt?
Is voilence not affront?
Yet the hunter is in a peaceful balance
Between nature and its absence
You may bloody the forest floor
You may be draped in fur and more
You may stand in silence amidst whispering ripples
And a rod in hand, a bait at the end of a hook and slightly tipple
You may be a humble fisherman
You will be a hunter as long as you can

Chats with the Moon
To be honest, we are all a rather lonely lot
So I’d be not embarrassed at what I sought
A night that actually should have been dark
Was lit by the moon and my thoughts decided to embark
On a journey of shared thoughts and chats with the moon
In the soft moonlight, I realized though not so soon
The moon was rather lonely
Too far away from us, torn from what it had been formerly
So I asked how it was, how it had been so far
Whether it felt lonely often, whether it cared for some star
I was surprised at its answer to me
Longing was what it had yet to see
“There are many who talk to me after hours” it said
I suppose it was right, what I had read
We are all a rather lonely lot
So I’d be not worried of the company the moon might have sought

Nothing Human
I might spend an entire lifetime by an absurd assertion
All of man-made is a mere reflection
Of what nature had already inspired
So our ideas were merely hired
Yet I contradict myself often and am forced to alter
When speaking of the world underwater
Nothing human could create a similar blue
Dark yet light, serenely threatening: an impossible hue
Nothing human could penetrate in such silence
Overpowering, mystifying: beyond guidance
Nothing human glides with such grace
Elegantly huge, preciously tiny: a compelling chase
Nothing human could grow so humbly in green
Audaciously spread, most never even seen
Nothing human could ever be an ocean
Not physically bound but bound of the notion
That a human heart had never been so vast
Forgive me, if I have been wrong, but we are nature’s dreaded caste.