Welkin Siskin’s Poetry Series -14
Welkin Siskin
Washington, America
1. All parts of the body
Fall in drops into the drizzle of life
To evermore understand life and embody
The civilized side that befalls after strife.
Love maybe a scar of a twilight played false by time,
And it may be an orb of night blackened by the billows of cloud,
The morning orange, with all lights reflective, rhyme,
And as high-spirited surge of peace shine with sprout.
2. If with all faculty of knowing we share and yet
Such love can a heart by actions be conveyed
Composed are we with fervor, passion and love
Stirred by our heart, and never, never snuffed.
Such love in body many a feelings borne,
And such love should rely our heart to soar,
Hover over in the skies as sweet as love dove,
Remember, this is love from the Heaven above.
Love to be extant, one must his limbs spread,
And to extend such love should one strive yet,
To be carefree and joyful in hearts and minds,
To articulate love, to depict and portray love and find
The very meaning of love: a faculty of knowing In consonance with mind and its knowing.
Each day, each hour then can it be true
To keep up with what we can share as few
Have shared it; for we know not the knowledge
How far and deep or its depth goes its age.
3. Love an unending light, furnishes
With supplications to the heart;
To unlock passion from the heart,
He then long to each love atom finishes.
Love an unending winds in length moving
Love an unending skies with moving clouds
Let it not a game, of rues and sobbing
Be it ever free from darkness and doubts.
4. To have wishes as humans with needs unfulfilled,
And to discover their ends unfulfilled until the end,
To trample with such wishes uphill
Or to be put into darkness or din
Of life, unfulfilled and untoward.
Life is a briny deep of wishes,
From womb to tomb we are led
To have a wish every wink of an eye.
5. Our eternity lengthens with motion of mind,
But the time fades with every longing to sense it,
And we are stranded and lost to a path find,
And we with love, many many eternities beget.
Our life, not knowing the eternity, our eternal self,
dwindles and freezes in the dust of the skylines
And we are left without being guarded and help
To know what lies at the back of (the) beyond, the skylines.
Buried under eternity are our times,
Our whispers of unknown patter of tiny feet and births,
Our longings of untold rhythm and rhyme,
Create in us joys, delights, blisses, peace and mirths.
6. Sunken in the dreary murk
Does the time with all its might goes
And the pen of a poet cries and does not smirk
And a lament or an ode, or a sadder feeling shows.
Happier in the inland of life
Does the time with all its victory go
And the pen of a poet crosses the strife
And sets into actions a million minds it do
To execute an idea, a whim of a series of allegory,
To catch sight of those parables and beauties
To glimpse to the life of chronicles and folklore
To give a sudden surge of platform opening the door.