Toe Poetry

[austintorn@aol.com]

[austintorn@aol.com]

[Mohan.C]

This poem is about a trek to puspagiri(or Kumara parvata)...
Puspagiri translated is puspa meaning flower and giri meaning hill or mountain.
I don't know why I wrote this today, because its been almost 7 months since that trek. Somewhat a big poem, I guess.

On a day spent with nothing done,
Staring at an empty screen,
I think of the night we spent,
Of that fateful night on the mountain top.

That day we had walked for miles,
To have at the end to celebrate, some smiles.
We arrived tired after an eventful trek,
We passed a creek, a river, but not any ogre named Shrek!

We walked in the shade, under a thick canopy,
Huge trees lining the sides, of the feet wide street.
Not a street as much as a leaf strewn forest floor,
Indeed it was the latter and we felt smarter
As we walked this lonely route.

On the sidelines of horizon we could see
Endless jungles of green and brown.
And gray wherever the stone exposed
Where the seeds of sand were not yet sown.
On the backside of the sun we could see
A coastline stretching, or we imagined it to be,
For due west we knew there lay the sea,
Calling us, in a faint voice, incessantly.

And the path grew stonier from muddier
As the rivers dried out below, and up we went,
Into the paradise awaiting us after the day.
The rocks got steeper and the climb tougher
But, dettered not we were to camp and rest.
We knew it had been conquered before but to
The summit our eyes gazed with unrest.

But, waited we did, till almost dusk,
And followed the trail through grass and bush.
Atlast came the flying breeze from the sea
Jumping over the valleys of the tree,
We walked now to the summit, for nothing more than free.

There we set a camp, by collecting fallen twigs
And we set to work, to build a stove from fallen stones
Strewn on the hilltop where. The heaven itself it seemed
Descended once we decided to camp right there.
The sunset seemed like a rare thing,
As we looked at it with wonder eyes.
For another it might have looked the same,
But, it seemed different, even in shape and size.

No one other than us, there were to sleep
On that stony ground. We had no tent above our heads
Just some sheets to cover us in the night.
And the stars to gaze at us straight.

Some time in the night we ate, and talked, telling merry tales
We waited for the dark to get thick, before we could go to sleep.
And we gazed at the ground from the highest point
That lay anywhere near on the ground. For us it seemed
We were flying above the sea, beyond the cloud.

Some planes we did see, blinking in the sky,
Thinking shooting stars mistakenly,
Such mistakes are usually done by me.

And covered us with layers we did,
And slept now on the stony sea.
Deep we were in our sleepy dreams,
When hark broke a twig in the forest tree.
And we woke with a pang and looked around at the dark.
As blazed our fire with the wind in glee.

We did stare at this miracle, as we had never seen it before
It was only just fire in the wind.
But, such a thing had never happened to us,
Ever in the night as we slept cozily
In our rooms in far away homes, where people snored noisily.

So, we woke with the cold in our feet,
And stared now at the wind and the dark.
Far away we saw a forest fire, burning the tiles
Of the forest floor, like an infernal pyre.

And so it was for hours we sat, wanting to sleep,
But, never we could as we talked, the cold off us keep.
The winds took a race, competing with themselves,
To see how far indeed they could blow.
This were the same winds we would breathe
When more south-east, to our homes we go.

The fire needed no fuel but the gale,
We sang a few songs in the chilly night,
As everything around was blind to our sight.
We waited now, for the wind to die,
And it did when the night grew old.
And inside our sheets we again crawled
And hid our faces in the caves of our hold.

And when the dawn did dawn, we woke up to watch
The colors spread out wide and free.
And we talk now of that grateful night
Grateful we are all for the nature to be
So kindly, as to graze us with fear,
But leave us unhindered in our sleep.
The fire we do see sometimes come to life
As in our cozy rooms we sleep,
And dream of that night the five we slept,
This dream forever we can keep.
And sleep till everything else we lose
But, that night we all can forever keep.

[Meem]

To whom it may concern
To whom for this fire burns
forever
for
ever
the never ending story

Ever am I, ever I am.
what?
One of those
they say
they think
they know
they are wrong

Who, do they think they are?
What, gives you the right?
Who is that?
Who are they?

What?

What is the problem?
It's not you
It's me

The quote doesn't shed any light on the subject for those lost in the dark. "I am a slave and servant to my own self impression." Thoreau, this is only a first step, "I am in the dark."

[racecar]

A is for Angry
B is for Bitter
C is for Cake
D is for Dumb
F is for Fake
M is for Materialgirl
omgwtflolbbq

[labelwench]

Ladies in Waiting

The mare is fair,
and broad to view,
her belly deeply laden.

Her nostrils flare,
the hours now few,
'til she's relieved of burden.

A filly foal,
the hoped for goal,
and soon all will be known.

'Can do naught but wait,
and anticipate,
Kinnick's first offspring born.....

(A fine Morgan mare, once my own and now with my best friend, is in the early stages of equine labour. We are most eager to see the first offspring of my young stallion, Kinnick. LW)

[austintorn@aol.com]

The complete set is here:

http://gallery.me.com/austintorney/100750

[Meem]

May or may not
Do or do not

To speak in silence,
is to truly be heard.

On the wings of the turtle dove
Mocks the bird
on a wire
a fine line
the crossing of hair's split trigger
The razor's edge

An uncertainty
we should have figured
time is not the witch whom wears the watch
but the keeper who keeps them both
steady as she goes
all hands on deck

We set sail for strange new lands
to seek out meaning when found
always questioned
a lesson learned as wild fires brightly burn

Health care
time well spent
hand shaken, not stirred

Give me your pain
Give me your sorrow
Give me your troubles
Give me your tired
Give me your hungry
Give me your sick
Give me your weak
Give me your poor
Give me your old
Give me your young
Give me your time
Give me your hand
Give me your heart
Give me your thoughts
Gear me your ear

I have something to show you
I'll fix it

Take my pleasure
Take my joy
Take my peace
Take my energy
Take my fullness
Take my health
Take my strength
Take my riches
Take my youth
Take my golden years
Take my time and make it yours
Take my hand and lift yourself up
Take my heart as is
Take my body and keep my spirit well

Take me not, for who I have been, but who I can become.

An ode to not yet known, and long lost friends.

[Mohan.C]

Grey mountains, catching the sky
With arms outstretched, spread out wide
Dripping water droplets down your weary backs
Grey mountains, who draw thee?

Grey mountains, warming your spine
In the beating sun, watching the sky.
Grey mountains, I wonder, 'who draw thee?'

Green hills, hunchbacked in the winter,
Shivering your grasslands on a windy day.
Watching young birds, learning to fly.
Green hills, how are thee?

Green hills, living in valleys
With not yet found animals, grazing your foothills.
Green hills, I wonder, 'who draw thee?'

p.s. I tried to do something else with this poem altogether. I wanted to write a more descriptive poem about the western ghats in India. But, for some reason, this is all I could write.

[Meem]

A Single Drop of Water

An early morning daze, like a hot full-moon mid summer's haze
to keep the mind in a daze
his eyes were over-glazed
and he could still somehow yet speak it from inside the maze

He walks up high and talks down low
the rhythm is sporadic with an unusual yet familiar flow
contemplation of small revelations don't you know
lights, camera, action ... on with the show

Someone told the boy that we were created in his image but he doesn't think that is how it should seem
Man is the image inside god's universal dream

the comedic relief says, "he looka like a man."
we are created in his image, where's the blueprint and plan

passed down and along from generation to generation
in every tongue and in every nation
the riddle and rhyme of universal formation
look low, look high, look in, LOOK OUT it's the international space station!

We are created in God's image ... think about it twice
Why would God look like a man when men are mice?
What is the secret of the universe, is it the spice?

The dog has learned on its own and what I have taught
I formed its consciousness in my image, and my attention it has sought.

A strange connection, object of my affection, to avoid further dereliction of duty, as if on queue
Do all the things you say and do ever make complete sense to you?

A lesser mind could run wild and rampart with an understanding
what is the master plan of this universal commanding,

To be free but kept
to fail and succeed every other attempt

To fall and stand tall
To almost have it, but never quit know
To brave onward onward, on with the show!

To friends with merry meet and greet
and to soft beds of roses for lover's feet

When you walk across the sun,
your footsteps trace across the golden shore of time

time after time again.

May the tide rise and carry your vessel out to sea
Every "man" is born, but very few are ever closer to free.