An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
Identity Into dying arms of fate my mien was staged stillborn As topsy-turvy over twisted brows, inlaid upon those majestic crowns ! O! Such stuff hung up in air, quite contrary, on its own; Into airings put forth— as in—untenable breaches; Unto risings ineffable so tempestuously grown O! Look! To that, A subdued pang, a dead beat to an impulse, still lingers on… And ,as of , in cut-throat melancholy, none the worse, for that : I was born Yet seeding underneath and beneath that constant twist of destiny, a humble hope hankered to live on … For though, as in the broken, while the wreathing harrows blew their arrows, and so frighteningly—“ affront ,”came in this —“sorrow,” to forge on and on … Therein, my feebler spirit lifted off of it’s own wings, to gently gather more and more ……..hope……which lent my soul to expectantly—carry on ! So such , being fully borrowed… I built on … Thusly, as the raging yonder fell upon fury, eclipsing all those virtues in a world —so scurrilously spun To this, my heart, from bright red to cold white, sought it’s own contents’ calm. And thereof , thinking if I shut it close, that would make it all so warm ?! But, the rendering speech which lights up the everyday, got freshly born! I was reborn ! Yes, I was reborn …. As if, showing up in words, as I would, in all it’s paradoxical forms— written , unwritten ,and “in-between,” those flowering words to take on a new form… O! No! That gave off sometimes, and I appeared as a mere flaunt! Thereby—daring to say and/ or hear, what’s hard, and above all; about what, others have blundered upon Unsayable, as it is, in this diverse world of unequals , the secular in me just carries on, to live on ,yet thereupon, all alone! ‘Tis Quite right, when you say — I was transformed... Into another into which, my essence takes shape to another form; and with it’s casualness left to a yonder’s sojourn! Here is where I belong! Yes, my life has taken its own divergent turn…I am that I am … a resonating 🧭 soul passing through times’ turn —to experience so much more than ☝️ one ; more of which traversing in this realm; of all that is and of all there is —in knowing this life and it’s ultimate source of creation. ✍️ Signing off as me, myself and I @ birth , rebirth and life-between-lives as I truly try to bring LIFE BACK TO LIFE ✨✨✨🌟💫✨✨✨ © ✍️ Madhu Goteti, Dec 6th, 2023
Dewdrops Cling to Petals
Dewdrops cling to petals, Morning's thirst in nature's embrace, A delicate sip, life's grace, Each bead births a universe,
In the canvas of the cerulean sky, Where the sun bids its fond goodbye, A transition unfolds, pure and bright, The graceful ballet of day into night.
The Shell I Have Shed
Walking on the beach I stumble The tide rushes in to cushion my fall I open my arms to its embrace Cut with the shell I have shed
The tree and divine stairs
In the forest's hush, where whispers play, A tree stands tall, in the light's ballet. Its branches reach like divine stairs,
Having brought a new puppy into the family, my mind drifts to what canines represent. Since all of them descend from the wolf, it focuses further fon this creature.
Enchanted Kyoto Night
Behold the wondrous beauty of this Kyoto night, Where light and darkness mingle in perfect sight, The sky, a hue of purple, so divine,
afraid because the waves of sadness have returned and they've only gotten bigger and I've forgotten how to swim and suddenly I've forgotten how to breathe I mean I know I can recall a time when there was only you and me but you sat there and you judged me like you were the Holy One yet somehow you were still my only one I wanted your light but you left me in a storm but instead of using this spark to light a fire to your things I've decided to light a fire within me I've decided that I have no choice but to right my wrongs to right my wrongs and I don't know what's right and I don't know what's wrong I don't know how much of me is left or how much of me is right like I told you I'm afraid I can't sleep alone at night because you're gone well I don't mean you're gone I mean you left and you were right we don't belong together our love was out of spite thank you thank you
Love of hurt
I was lost in the woods not enough tender to make a fire the unhinged on hinged put their hopes on a tree heart-shaped signals made out of smoke
You want to get some coffee?
I can’t have ur number What kinds of wounds will that open up Will the vibration of my phone sink me into the ground The dreadful glance over my shoulder every time I check
My mother is not the woman who brought me in with blood and screams, But rather the breath in the air, The ball of fire she bathed me in as I basked in her warm gaze.
She used to think she hated the wind. The way the sound of it scoured the back of her mind like sand as she tried to dream. Filling her sleep with sighing. Shifting the tide of her blood until it slopped and foamed like sea spume inside her.