(Mayflowers: A 14 word Haiku)

After April rains,
May's flowers sprang in the plains—
Too grands its reign is.


//Eve's Thought//

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In the final analysis,
The movement from stasis
Means celebrating—
Without ifs and buts—
Each instance of sorrow.
Poetry rejoices—
There ain’t no other choices—
In ravishing rhyme,
Letting go of reasons'
Pure ugly.
Sing to celebrate
The joy of being in pain;
Each song is a testament
To human resilience—
No nonsense!
Faith filters scaith—
Feelings defy math.

//Eve's Thought//

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Self-sabotage: Roots to Ruins
(A Tanka & a Haiku)

Ah, too much sweetness
Can be its own nemesis;
Fie! I birthed the hands
That rose just to break my spine —
I'm so sorry, I'm so fine.

And from my own yoke,
I craft'd the cruelest joke —
I've lost it — I'm broke.

//Thought for the Day//

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My faith in His goodness steel;
And tranquility
Descends upon my heart's core—
This is such a divine deal.

And every prayer
Proves to be a soothsayer—
Heaven on Earth feels.

I feel such deep gratitude
For His largesse and bounties.
He's the Word and Act,
We're merely the wayfarers
Of His dominion.

On Fridays, I feel —
With each string of my spirit —
His touch, so soul-deep.

//Eve's Thought: Freesome Fridays//

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So Sentient Silence
(A Triple (R) Tanka & Haiku)

I feel it so deep —
In each strand of consciousness
When I'm fast asleep.
Waking up is so noisy;
Dreams tend to be more real.

In mere reveries,
I foresee pure gramarye.
The joy of being
Consists in full emptiness:
Sentient — and less sapient.

No wonder wonder fits not
Just in the palm of one's hand —
Things grotesque and grand
Tend to lie yond the senses
Of mere pretenses.

Close your eyes — wide-shut,
And go to a silent place:
To ace all things' grace.

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Amor Fati
(A Haiku)

Stardust to the soil
We remain empty-handed—
Ah, Amor fati!

//Thought for the Day//

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Humanity's Reckoning

Whosoever kills a soul,
Brute slays all humanity — whole;
Without ifs, without buts.

Whosoever saves a soul
Saves all humanity — entire;
Ah, this killing despair!

//Eve's Thought//

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An Elegy to Earth

O the Mother of moss and stone and man,
Writhing in quiet perpetual pain;
Thy verdant vibes are succumbing too fast
To each man's greed — future, present, and past.

Each breeze is disease and each drop poison;
Bloodbath is wreaked upon each horizon;
The bubbling rivers shiver with more ills
Than what the deep Seven Seas' bosom spills.

Mother, thy brute, bruised but balming embrace
Cradles humanity with grit and grace;
Thy dawns still dare to rise and dispel glooms,
And thy marred meadows breed breathtaking blooms.

Every seed sprouts new hope — a skyey hype,
Thy ancient rawness still affords no gripe;
Thy grand mountains, though so scarred, hold steadfast
The spoils of progress — so vicious, so vast.

Thy body is bruised and thy spirit singed,
Thy virtuous womb too has been infringed;
Despite the fault lines, thou art still so kind,
Our broken hearts in thee salvation find.

Let’s be the final humus, Mother Earth,
To thy long-standing, ancient erstwhile mirth.
Heal thyself — and uncry the bitter tears;
Bury in thy core all that unfair is.

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Crimson Lori
(A Haiku)

Bare branches sing soft
To the burnt-out, sinking Ra —
A crimson lori.

//Eve's Thought//

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A Fool's Paradise
(R Tanka & Double Tanka)

I persist in my folly,
To become wiser — maybe!
Just include me out
Of that school which proposes
Sanity in love.

Let go of reasons.
Instincts don't need to evolve,
And to thrive in love,
Just go back to the basics —
None succeed like naked loons.

Against all wisdom,
And against all discipline —
Don a jester's crown.
Play raw — uninhibited —
Beauty thaws just at the seams.

//Thought for the Day//

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