Life, Love, Nature and Poet-2
Welkin Siskin lives in Seattle, Washington. He is the poet of varied nature, who writes on various themes. Poetry for him is the healing ointment of a heart destitute of vision.
He believes that poetry is the play of words, the change of verbs into nouns; the game of words surging through the heart's inside.
His poetry is the yearning for freedom, love, life, and the expression of the Nature that adorns the Universe- the mysterious eternity of the Infinite.
Welkin Siskin
Washington, America
(I)
Illusory fantasies beset
the swales of eyes’ sights;
Shadows of sunset cloud
the needful and learning moments;
Marked by misfortune, brushed by ego, and heart blotted out with time,
the straits of human heart get entangled
And alas! the emptiness of knowledge
Still more obscure the oblivious mind,
And beaten down by unbeatable blows
Of adversities, we lead
this foreboding flesh of nothingness.
(II)
O you, my lovebird, my heartthrob,
Shall love ever ours
revive in the rapturous tryst
across the oblivious part of our heart?
Shall it as stars dazzle
in the dead of the night
of march?
Swear me if does it,
Then as a rainbow loves
to color the twilight sea,
I shall adorn you with all I retain:
Love, compassion and beauty.
(III)
Shall we with colors be identified,
With black, red, brown or tan,
With riches, sex, gender, religion, or class,
If Pearly Gates shall we take
the final vow, a destined road
that He the Mighty One for us made (if truly we believe Him)?
Shall we, by the time given, declare
To deter foes of ego within us,
If forgotten shall not this vow be,
Shan’t we the same soul-bearers
by the color of blood know
For God’s sake,
To dwell as one?
(IV)
Whose eyes are pure, as Child of all beauty,
A Moonbeam reflected, a Dawn-kissed face,
And who can prove as he does,
Who’s showered with innocence and ever blessed?
A smile as he has who does this possess,
A voice as he makes none can equate;
For to be loved is to be child,
To be a child is to win…both smile and voice.
Who in virtue could reflect his heart,
His unstained life as the Star itself,
He who’s molded him thus
Could in hiding, perhaps, compare his self.
(V)
A Writer
For he does mark,
he’s innatedly so made,
To explore by touch
to examine the just,
To steer clear of grievous civilization.
To him the cruelest
of human’s pride bestow,
By which all eyes have
already been soaked,
every tear has in pains exhausted,
Thoughts,
thoughts of the conscientious,
vivid and articulate,
To bear ideas to strive against it,
To sow the seeds of undying love.
(VI)
In deathless song,
endure, my love,
shall I to your ears breathe
these immortal words
of mine.
Shall we be far traversed
Into that engrossing utopia
amid the ocean,
In the tryst
of the most blessed!
In this monotonous midnight,
Shall I a solemn promise make,
and soon as I sleep,
Shall I as a reality
in nightly dreams come
in the presence of yours,
to whisper these words
once more,
to give credence
of my death-defying love,
For you are the perdurable Moon
Of the interminable vast,
Cherished and cared for
timelessly.
(VII)
I waded through a monotonous midnight,
and before long I sleep
Shall I come
into the presence of yours,
where this ungainly time revives
Into a momentous occasion.
(VIII)
In the voice of silence
The heart lifts its tones,
The eyes ache
For a passionate wish
Of freedom
from all that binds-
From the deep of ebonies,
From the chains of darkness.
This fanciful mind awakes
Its vigor,
Ah! But in the highest
discretion of the infinite
lies the purity of joy.
(IX)
In my childhood,
I would behold up
In the sky,
Chase the twilight Sun
Stumbling,
rushing in a headlong speed
At times, trying to catch the Sun,
One of those very many stars
Brilliantly shining in the summers.
Many a time, winters wood-shrikes
and wood-swallows,
brown and gray plumage finch-like
bird would hum
My own voice into tune.
Rubbing the sleep from
my eyes,
still of a monotonous day,
tossing and turning my psyche,
I would imagine things of varied dimensions: fathom
into imaginative thrillers,
Would be daydreaming,
View objects soaring
into the sky,
Showering in the rain,
painting and drawing unknown mystery.
What a childhood it was!
The calmest of ages,
The stars themselves,
a Silence.
Not a full- grown life
Yet it itself was a reflector of a full age.
(X)
Feelings waver seamless
Like the lines of a Play-
Seeking, searching, wooing
Things never heard of,
Seen or felt.
We die of seeking things
that pass by every moment
Before our uncaring eyes.
(XI)
Generation
The riches owned by our perennial lives,
our forbears,
have been swept
Into a wind as dust,
Our relics,
our heritage,
our languages,
have been insecure, unsafe and precariously left,
Our histories,
our stories and ordeals,
our bittersweet tales,
have been buried into a sea of lies.
And now, as the barrenness
Is beheld,
as the man’s relationship with nature’s distanced,
A thousand beauties
our forbears pleased
their eyes with – the beauty of pure living with what nature has to offer- we have lost.
For countless damages done,
For no histories have matched
the time of ruins we have,
For the path of vanity stands barefoot before us,
We are led, bare of any purity, to accept the validity of untold myths, thus.
(XII)
To Stars:
Incessant stars overhead
Thou after night glimmer
Putting a finish all over creations.
Lights on the pathways
I see now furbish shriveled
plants, old fossils, bare mountains
clung to the falling boulders around.
Millions thou, seemingly drifting,
Painted in the yellowish tints
of the Maker,
leap sometime, sometime move
along the clouds of the night
seeking the darkest havens of the planets.
(XIII)
Literature
Literature is not knowing when your time to sleep is, and you still are deep into pages.
(XIV)
Let us not caper—you and I—
In the transient anthem of beauty alone,
Our world must caper
In the musicality of reasons.
(XV)
Specter of dreams
Stumbling before him
Comes,
the language he does not hear,
Its tone he does not feel.
He’s convinced though
that specters are haunting,
devolved upon a person
in the strangest of its sorts.
(XVI)
I
‘I” seeks the truth, the reasons
To all the questions of life:
Questions of existence,
Of the Universe, Life, Mystery,
Eternity, infinity and Beyond
In the best critical way ”I’ could
Being open-minded and accepting
To all that could help ”I” find
The truth, the knowledge,
”I” finds nothing that contents him;
His knowledge, his brain, his wisdom
Oh, like others deluded
To seek the truth of life, the meaning
Of ‘’why I am here, what I need to do’’, ”I” am.
Like the guttural woes of the victims of war,
‘’ I ’’ laments over to seek the meanings and truth,
The epistemology of life,
Lost in the labyrinth of phenomenal world.
”I” finds nothing, not a yarn of truth
To fulfill his avid mind.
(XVII)
Youth and Time
Pure as a brimming Adam’s Ale
Youth comes rolling,
abounds, purls, and drifts alongside us,
Touching hungered fervors,
Weaving a dream, a whet of appetite,
A dream of untold forever.
The mind holds feelings hard to convey in words,
The heart’s inner inside, as though an upsurge of clouds, lifts;
The Knowing Self dwindles and spreads inside, forming into a bent,
Writhing, oftentimes, in subdued tone;
A thing done becomes unanswerable,
untellable – whether good or bad
When times are, in papers, cannot be written,
When times are led by short-lived longings,
When times are buried by craze.
(XVIII)
You’ve given an impetus of hope
and you’ve reconditioned and perfected my sorrowful life;
You’ve treasured my will
and rekindled the faded Splendors of my life with succor and blessings;
O,the brilliancies of sights,
You have lightened up my being!
You are so sweet.
(XXIX)
The passing Stars
Toward the sky
I behold now
lift through the skyline.
My heart springs,
A wish excites
To catch this unbounded
freedom.
(XX)
The sky is splitted.
Beneath the troposphere
crawling heap of clouds
Wings space to space.
My eyes are glazed over
From beholding the hazy blur
Cast in this wild stretch of darkness in the sky.
(XXI)
Thy mysterious form assuages my dormant pen
Drifted far, lost sight and asleep.
(XXII)
You inspired me deeply
And touched my heart;
You left me bundles of
Souvenirs,-
A symbol of our love
Engraved in undying scripts;
A bittersweet name in the graceful diary of Cupid;
A compassionate garden of love
Where blossoms of your smile
Shall ever gladden my desirous heart;
And a love,timeless and unbounded.
( XXIII)
That is called poetry
To be into a whirlwind of life,
Be left indecisive,
To be in ups and downs,
Despair and hope, dreams and illusions and adversary and joy.
Both hurting and soothing,
Occurring variably every now and then;
And that cause-effects relations
Of varied phenomena is a natural thing—
Everything is a distinct entity, thus;
I cannot agree any more to the Universe.
(XXIV)
The emptiness hasn’t unraveled
from the hands
Of a tangled shadow.
I stroll around the night pathways
under this hazy sky.
I am prepared to hearken you
secretly whispering to me
that you’re coming
to destroy this murk
of untold misery.
(XXXV)
What this life of youth it is, that hinders the phrenic task
And breaths to sustain lessen to cease
On the desire for a lass.
(XXVI)
Like silvery morns of summer
You slipped away.
Nothing heralded:
Neither a word, an expression
Or a delicate mumble came by
Passing through me.
Alone I noticed in me
The unkindest,
A thing like hell upon Earth,
The noiseless foot of time
Bearing upon me
Leading me to the silence
Of all willies.
(XXVII)
No knowing Self knows love sometimes how it befalls:
it has myriad languages and syntax,
voices and whispers;
the main of eyes speak the words of pensive inside;
the heart sometimes tells not,
The Unknown likes, loves, feels, undergoes and cherishes.
(XXXVIII)
If you don’t get
I didn’t say I don’t love you, I do.
I love you like the stars lost in earthly beauty
These passing twilight winds
Loving to flatter these alpine leaves
Dancing together, flipping wings
Carrying a tune of melodic diapason.
This colorful rainbow after some fraction of hours
Of gentle shower drizzle
Spreading hues over the interminable Pacific
This spirited energy loving to revitalize living hearts.
I didn’t say I don’t care of you, I do.
As though these dark-wood trees compassionate
To give shelter,
A serenity of feelings, and tranquil areas.
That is my love, one of its kinds:
It doesn’t sustain without your breeze of passion,
It doesn’t nurture without your care,
It doesn’t grow beyond without your touch.
My love, our love is manacled by our feelings,
Inebriated with our passions,
Left to unsurpassable bond by our vims and vibes,
Unchanging convictions,
Commitment of the heart,
Throbs of the pulse,
Sounds of palpitations
And tenderness softened out of our eyes.
When one limb is gone, the next is mutilated:
This passion, this vigor, this energy and strength shall perish,
And these Times shall fade.
And as transient as the rainbow hues,
Shall it be lost to sight,
Shall it dissipate like vapors sooner than later.
( XXXIX)
An imperfect situation,
The loveliest of times come about
And thus I define Life:
A cruise between joy and despair.
So profound before I think,
So long before I go,
I am reminded of these facts
And I toil in the midst of these states so,
Being a mind of vision,
A heart of caution,
A spirit of persistence.
A purest will thus
A flame am I,
And shall I spark amid the cold frame of Nature.
(XXXI)
I dream of a day
When dispassion
blooms petals of
fragrant love
among many,
Say, not just amongst us –
But in those who seek love
ever like us.
( XXXII)
This is only too unvarnished
If I say
You are seldom false
To keep us out of perfidy
For rarely ever we mistake
That the hate never surpass.
(XXXIII)
All over the moving shadows of mine,
To resurrect the limbs of senses,
Gently touching
as the soul’s touch upon heart,
With lights of ardent love
You’ve redeemed my mind with pure lights of eternity.
(XXXIV)
If love were a dead world and hate a lively one,
Why wouldn’t have I broken your heart and shunned-
The romance of its peaceful cruise and fun
And with vigor for another love born?
But the love’s an endless zone
That shall never ever be forever done,
Rather it spreads its wing ton and ton
And thus, I love thee until my ages are gone!
(XXXV)
The night’s calm, temperate.
The wind-swept leaves
are shaking gently in my yard.
My curious eyes are touching yours.
This fair, clement weather
emits yellow- orange
lights of the moon.
Ah, like the moon you grin,
glimmer, and give sheen
to my rayless heart.
You are equal to the unfading perdurable moon of the heaven.
(XXXVI)
Engrained love
From all these longings,
Ingrained with passion and light,
If ever a shred of hint should come,
Or fragments of voice whisper,
Or a tiny trace of whereabouts,
Or an image hazier or blurred,
I shall, with all feelings possessed,
caress you.
And when you are gone forever
Like a beautiful breath of a transient life,
This unheard love shall resound your name,
These feelings shall weave languages of their own
To adorn your beauty forever,
And the lips of words shall touch upon your soul.
(XXXVII)
Let love not slip from minds,
For the sacred of life known
Has never been found purer as love.
Love may have been infused
With resentment and hate,
Glossed over with abhorred blemishes,
The fount through which the life contents its last fond of whit is but love,
And it is hence the yearnings of all mortal souls.
(XXXVIII)
Love is a newborn of tenderness;
Should love because of time perish?
Heal the old, buried the falsehood be,
To reap the truth, hearts poured by thee.
Love is won when hard times are conquered!
Love’s never a death, it is a perdurable moon
Of ageless, lucid bright.
(XXXIX)
I love her now in this early bright
brimmed over with bloated breeze
In this scene where the tremulous sounds
of birds reecho
In the sluggish flux
of air lifting up a tune,
making an enchanting melody of her own beauty.
I love her now and here
Where the sky radiantly glow
Its golden hues and cast thin
Lines of rays passing
through my windows.
(XXXX)
Truth, like the splendor of light
approaching before darkness
on every footsteps,
Is a large roll of sandy winds
to the unfair.
Falsehood grown beyond premises
finds vertex of truth.
Dormancy is awakened
as though the world in hibernation
bringing about it’s lost face.
(XXXXI)
You left me nothing but love that long had I craved for, You left lessons for me
that I do not find anything
more complete.
For all the lives you spent for me,
there is a cardiac wish to you:
May you be a shaft
Of endless light ever thus,
An arc of rainbow over a space beating the nude clouds in passing;
Days as bright as the Sun
grazing against the darkness of a solitude prolonged
far and wide.
(XXXXII)
He met with her up again
excited in his dreams.
Two hearts gaining composure
In gleeful manner
rose to each others as a single one.
Parting-stricken sapless feelings,
Distending bad vibes and bitterness
Held back and kept under wraps,
Pacified as twilight winds rushing across the woody perennials and foliate-thick dark-green boughs
Or, summer rivulets swirling like the cascades free from bounds or brim,
Or, some thoughts taking burden from slaving bustling time and soaring into the dense and the thick
Of the indefinite.
Both held tight, touched by feelings, swinging between the cleft
of feelings
drawing fount of endless pleasure