Poems of Welkin Siskin: Series 11
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
Washington, America
1)
Put thy pen in a trance and feel
Such is her beauty he craves always,
Thy heart, thy pulse with her magic evermore heal,
And it leads thee to attain truth, to lead to the right ways.
Her beauty, the last words epitomize thee,
And how does it bring this undying fragrance
How does beauty the heart tempt and lure lo!
What’s sweet as mouthful of sweet words, guess!
And move to thy lots with post-ordained sculptures she carve,
And step abroad on a journey with the light of her beauty,
Thou shall not walk through the edges sharp,
And thou shall embrace beauty and love as thy duty.
2)
We shall perchance behold the untoward,
We shall perchance behold the untoward,
And we shall with our hearts forever long,
We shall cross all things when we journey onward,
And shall we hear the rustic song.
Shall we proceed to the best place,
Unknown maybe the destination we choose,
We are, I believe, going to be evermore blessed,
And we shall cross through those hamlets we call whose!
We are restless, impatient and craving yet
Of those remains, of those beauties such,
Lost since millennium may be our duet,
Shall we all the bands of folklore touch
Such hamlets, given the beauty they own,
Maybe a millions of years or forever live
Or shall they be all done and we shall moan
The debris and the ruins of those still alive.
Our wishes: may it dwell till eternity and ages
And be such hamlet, such beauty, never erode
And may the generation to come not alone find in pages
Their beauties, their elegances, landscapes so remote.
3)
I’d consider him the oracle like many do
I’d consider him the oracle like many do
Had he with magic hand evermore perform
The cure for all distresses and sorrows all through
And yet with many god-incarnate forms or no form
The magic wand would work; it would guide
To make a long way further into the deep,
And further from the foam where truths bide
And this life be forevermore inspirited and leaped.
I’d consider him the oracle like many do,
Upon this head would he the canopy make,
And would he lead to attain fruition all through
And in the darkness a light as forever wake,
Deadening were my souls, and spirits,
And unknowingly they might not have touched thee,
I would touch all the crannies and grids,
And with thy love would I the world ever see!
To panic and be tormented and be led—
Who in his lifetime dreamed of bad happening
And who would want to share the ill fate,
O, the Oracle! Let this fate I do not kiss; I’m a sapling.
4)
You’d not visited that place, those hours,
You’d not visited that place, those hours,
Adorned with patterns in the heavens and the flowers.
Those moments that day gone by,
Dreamed up, concocted and met memories do not die.
For to shape a being and to form a lasting impression come not
from something else until we have sought.
That place you visited gave ways to thought
And many people would agree not
That the place you grew up, you befall to encounter
And the days you have fallen in the inhaling smother,
People you met, the voice you heard, the sounds of the inner,
Your soliloquies all counts; it comes as something finer
To mold your life. It’s baseless when you have not given a spark,
and a life that owns its spark of hard work,
You must all that have nasty stories shun
And everyday through your aura new
5)
A great stride would he take,
A great stride would he take,
And a lasting impression would he make.
He would protest through rallies, sit-ins or march
And would forever the right of life search.
No man has yet stood of stature,
And no one has such status.
He was a man of letter and voice,
Who would voice against all odds, and make a choice
For a people and the globe eventually.
He would die voicing, and voicing eventually.
A man who attained the last word as beauteous,
And epitomized those whose voice against him were furious.
A thinker of those days, whose legacy the world was learning,
Whose passion for change as fire was burning.
Blessed be his soul and be rested ever in God’s hands,
Real in hearts, real in times, unlike graven images in the sands.
6)
If you won’t at the maximum impart,
Love that’s in faith stemmed from the famous source,
That, pretty telling, will change for better one the course,
Through the heart, through the pulse and the soul,
Let it at the minimum be the torch
To reach out to the everyday goal.
If you won’t impart love such one that creates no bound
And ever as the swarm of seven seas abound
I will happily part ways with you
Like the sun kissed morn dew.
And always look out for the better in you,
Look out ahead of the fields and shall find you
More of love, more of beauty, more of idyllic nature,
And that day will be such a day of favor,
When hearts shall be healed, pulse pulsates the blood of psalm
When we shall live quiet life where our nature be calm.