The Falling Maples- Living Unconditionally- Poetry by S.S

When I see you, through the eyes of the winds, I see a thriving warrior, a fierce and unyielding soldier, fighting the endless battles, against occurrences and Time, Mostly emerging a conqueror, but occasionally, entangled 'tween heart and mind.... (c) S.S

Trapped behind, the timeworn doors, is a horde of mumbling souls, balancing upon the fossil floors, they watch us, through obscure surfaces, and the veiled walls, as they laugh and mock, in screechy voices, on our tottering minds, and misled choices..... (c) S.S

Cicero :         "You must not seek me, For I am beyond curable, My limbs lost, my soul bruised, I cannot be your lover" Gaia :         "In a life that is crammed, with deathless battles, We are all disfigured, some within, carrying mutilated souls, some on the outside, with irretrievable flaws, Oh Cicero, what love do you speak of? e'en midst that chaotic existence, I adore your truthful presence, Must you know, when winds fall in love, the worldly appearance, becomes extraneous, and to whatever extent, To you the actuality may seem dismal, my love for you is abiding and immortal...." (c) S.S

Rising from the wild thickets, The fireflies gather like glistening trinkets, Dancing and whirling, rejoicing and carousing, I see all my abhorrence dousing, Midst the wavy dense grasses, Gentle sound of footsteps passes, I search and I chase, But he vanished, in the winter's haze, Mind fails to resume the Nature's appreciation, As the soul is occupied in intruder's inquisition, Are you the light, above and beneath? Or the fog, in frost's sheathe?                            ~S.S~

And beyond the edge of this persistence, far, farther than your mind can comprehend, is an entirely divergent orb, where plays euphonious chords, never heard before, a song, never sung, visions, never envisioned, roads, untraversed, upon those uncharted terrains, soaked in those never drizzled rains, are few cluttered rhymes, some unpenned verses, That sphere, which is beyond your realization, is my supreme destination..... (c) S.S

Ask me how your semblance reflects, against the rays of the morning Sun, It is the colour of honey, for my eyes, a hymn that my soul silently hums...... (c) S.S

Words bear certain glory, woven in eloquent strings, they speak of unspoken stories, Words carry a teeming endurance, sometimes pen wrath, at times love, they scream of prolonged forbearance, Words are bountiful, like an ocean, some rip them apart, some squander, as they drown deep in their own notions, Words make some of us whole, who knows, on the other hemisphere, sits a joyous, or a stricken soul? Words form the sole world of truth, carefree from unjustified defenses, where emotions flow as buoyant deluge, And so, I breathe words, air can wait........ (c) S.S

A tiny cabin, tucked midst the towering greens, upon a snow clad upland, and moonlight's gleam, A fireplace,  for that much sought warmth, and night's lull, as my spirit reforms, A paper and ink, as I my soul breaks, word by word, with every blink, A furious blizzard, to amuse me, as I weave it into verses, as winds kiss every tree, Oh what blessed, silence that would be, the night, the cold, the fire, the storm, a quiet world of my own....... (c) S.S

I have crossed over, that bridge before, where darkness abides, Off the mundane furor, but from those soothing hollows, words hauled me back, moments before, I was going to be swallowed, That chasm sends a calling again, and I try to resist, but the struggles are in vain, such is the mollifying ease of that haze, e'en the words sought me, to journey along through that maze, Oh that lull of the infinite black, shall guard me from all the worldly flak...... (c) S.S

Once again, She resolves to meld, with the fire within, that blithely burns, the proclaimed sins, that blazing beset, twirls emotions to embers, and the flare begets, affections asunder, But the world still lives, streaming like water, sealed in life's archives, saved from belittling splatter, She persists, for the sake of persistence....... (c) S.S

Perhaps, the winds will speak one day, Of the glories lost, and the unsaid grace, That day the oceans, would bear a tumult, when an echo will be heard, condemning the fickle human race, of damnation and disobedience, hurling the rain of trials, upon guilt-ridden faces........ (c) S.S

Awoken from a halcyon nap, upon earth, boorish and crude, a realm with trifling paltry trap, sustaining enormous feckless brood, What say the dead poets' spirits, "beholden, we're salvaged from the maze, See them sprawled like dust and grit, wandering in a disheveled haze" (c) S.S

A pursuit of ages, heart weighed peregrine, words spill ceaselessly, debris of angst, ebbing perpetually, filth on dusty river banks, life's lost pages, tangled in withered vine, What says the oracle, in an echoed holler, He who evades, endearment forthright, peers pierce in her heart, the remorse's stroller, felicity's martyr,  life's righteous knight, She be a river herself, aspirations be mundane, a stream limitless, has insatiable impulse, an intangible rune, beyond the disdain, a rehearsed self, for an abrupt repulse,              Recoiling back, within encompassed ravines,              where silence prevails, and bliss of eternal rhymes. (c) S.S

Upon the waves, Reposes he from the past, Aegeus, The Knight of the kingdom of seas, He who paints the days, Yearning, seeking her in a haste, Refusing to bow to fate's decrees, He feels her scent, As if it composes his being, Like a rigid wall, he pursues her unfailingly, Suddenly jolted by a strong current, He's enthralled by the voice that sings, As if a treasure is found, he whisks cravingly, Daring the tumultuous raging waves, he traverses across the outrageous seas, Guided by her euphonious tunes, His maiden adorned in silken lace, Iris, the queen of the otherworld, She who descends upon the Seas, On a full moon night, Seeking the one, she was meant to love, But, such was the King of the Wind's envy, that storms unfurled into violent fury, The swells surged as high as the skies, and swallowed the Iris' beloved knight, An echo was heard, the loud wailing of the Queen, as she cursed the tides, with barrenness and sterility, and that it

An intriguing mind, athwart distant avenues, conquering her random flood of verses, has wondorously become her eternal muse, e'en though, she can fathom his mumbling curses, But she is powerless, kneeling before the words, her expressions unfurl, in most striking ways, when the assumptions, uncertain and unheard, Bemuse her, in an otherworldly maze, She wonders if he's agonized, for she's an incurable scribbler, The rain of words, appear undevised and she drowns into a poetic river, again, and over and over again...... (c) S.S

A poet's conflicting mind, and silently plunging heart, are the reasons the verses are penned, One must not restrain that classic art, The bygone poets, a miniscule of their grace, runs outrageously in our veins, Absoluteness of expressions is a bliss, It's our respite in the phrasal abyss, To some, these words might be beyond discerning, But the right one, would fathom its meaning ....... (c) S.S

When fear clings like moths, and persistence becomes a chaos, Athward the unseen fields, Take heed, let go off erstwhile ordeals, We are all seized, by life's raging seas, where the violent storms, refuse to cease, But e'en midst the thunders which seethe, Life does lend, a chance to breathe, She fathoms the assurances, of enclosed spaces, those are the hardships, that left their traces, But devout floods, are known to shatter the confines, lest they are chained, by assent's fragrant vines A step forth, in what dwells beyond, From where, fears and disbelief, forever abscond, the fences of reverence, eclipse the vast, concrete fence, there is where, unfeigned bonds commence..... (c) S.S

A faint murmur, from across the seas, it is but the bequeathing of Morpheus, as hollow seems, the mundane decrees, upon the wings, of dreams glorious, What says he, from the walls of unrest, A step forth, and then fear of the fall, Or may be, the dread of heart's conquest, what if it be, love's long awaited call, The quest of pursual, is wontedly exacting, and the conquer, is not always reached, the callowness of affection, is often tormenting, as unwelcomed bounds, are ofttimes breached,            And the seeker, perpetually awaits compliance,            A tenuous melding, towards an onliest alliance.

Now that you have, intruded my soul, and left me dangling like a drop, 'twixt anguish and affection, I promise to linger, Like memories, Or an unfulfilled wish from your reflections, I know not, how to disappear..... (c) S.S

Sometimes, She wonders, She's not of this era, that she was meant, for a bygone age, May be, she's a forgotten verse, from a poet's page, Written, when Love was, worth believing in, when the poems held, true meaning, and when the adoration mirrored, the romantic plays, of the Shakespearean stage...... (c) S.S

In the quietus of the night, when the effulgent moon burns bright, Her faith, in Nature's elemental truth, Deepens, That truth becomes the messenger, of her futile pursual, For, when she looks at it, with the seeker's soul, It consumes the adoration, that emanates from her eyes, and carries it, to the distant shores, Invading deep in his reluctant soul, when he gazes at the Moon...... (c) S.S

"What makes these florets bloom and fade?", she asked. "Deep 'neath these flower bed," said he, "lays the beauteous Hera, spiritless and dead, it is when she smiles at the reminiscence, of her lover's semblance, these blossoms bloom, and flourish beyond the Nature's fences, But it is said that when her soul wails, at the flashes of her beloved's apathy, that e'en the flourishing efflorescence fails........" (c) S.S

She awoke, 'neath the roof of the stars, Glistening in their white effulgence, The fragrance of the winter dew, and leaves imbued in night's pristine splash, A trail was made by a warrior's footsteps, through thorny bushes, and banks of cold streams, She followed, Until the scent of lavender, caught her senses, "Who might it be? Why this undefined willingness to seek?" There, She saw him, wounded by destiny, bringing forth the cast of benevolence, As she stood, a companion, or may be, the spirit of tranquility, wearing truth, in the world of verses...... (c) S.S

In the realm of rights and wrongs, I am a mere drop, a vapour, May be somewhere, In the distant forests, I was meant to fall like a rain, But wrested by the storms, was adrift, here, somewhere, nowhere, I kept trying to escape, in vain, And now, I am suspended, Dangling, a nameless drop, in verses' atmosphere, Seeking my origin, the rain, But, in vain....... (c) S.S

And once upon a time, Began a lore so divine, Of a spirit, who traversed the woods, To seek her lover of ages, In her realm of living deads, She strode on the thorny beds, No mortal eye could see, The yearning soul, Or her feet that bled, They say that spirits, Don't feel the pain, But her unseen frame, Was drenched in the teary rains She reposed every night, Bathing in the Moon's celestial light, Praying for her beloved dream, In the hills or the Holy Springs, They say, her spirit, rests in the wolves, her wailing unrest, is still heard, from the depth of the forests....... (c) S.S

Neither do the winds perceive, nor can the rains discern, how the vagrant heart deceives, and profoundly, for the one, the soul yearns, Neither do the earth hears, nor can the skies devour, the messages sprawled in a wailer's tears, and how dispassion engulfs, hour by hour, What remains is an anxious plunge,  over and over again, into nostalgia's dungeon.... (c) S.S

As you traverse across the highlands, and athwart the grassy fields, there's a wide blue sparkling sea, 'Neath its calm waters, and a spectral coral reef, there's a cave of fantasy, Wade forth within its walls, through the boulevard of reverie, there sits a chimerical ivory shell, It is within it's confines, that my stricken self escapes each night, I fondly call it my shrine....... (c) S.S

It's a pity, an act of forbearance, how, in love, must the giver, bear anguish, beyond tolerance, It's a shame, an act of contempt, when the worth of true affections, is a life drenched in abasement, But,  why must the taker care? We breathe midst the parasites, Lover flourishes, Until the last drop, bequeathing fares....... (c) S.S 

There's no mountain, as high, as the soaring felt in love, There's no abyss, as deep, as the agony endured in love.... (c) S.S

I wonder what would've been, the drift of cupid's dart, If all the believers and lovers, were devoid of any heart, It wouldn't have made any difference, The flowers would still blossom, as they do, the seasons would have flourished, as they do, the  Sun would've shone and set, as it does, the stars would have lit the sky, as they do Except, Without the heart, There would be no joys and sadness, No lover's loss, No devotion or adoration, There would be, No Poetry (c) S.S

I envisioned, a fallen angel, caught by the demons, while earth bound, With wings aflame, yet tranquil guise, chased by the beasts, until, it tumbled on the ground, There was a knock, startled I was, t'was the angel, I heard his wailing sound, While the cherub wept in pain, I sobbed at my own woes, for a moment, angel was dumbfound, Then recalled the seraphim, It is for me, that he had come, e'en the Gods fathomed my wounds, And so came the final call, I held the angel's hands, and was taken to the lands of Beyond...... (c) S.S

When God created people, He made two slots, One for the non thinkers, Other for the thinking lots, Once done with sculpting the former, He was baffled to look at the sophists! As among them stood, two kinds, One with sensitive hearts, and the other, with ignorant minds, And so, Poets were born, Many of each kind. A bit puzzled, the God asked, "Poets are Poets, sensitive or not, what difference does it make? They've beloveds as their muses, what else must they need?" From behind a huge willow tree, A tiny form appeared, bowing in front of the Almighty, all the ambiguity, she cleared, "My Lord,  I am that sensitive over-thinker, as you say, Even a dry petal can amuse me to stay, May be, I espy not the joys from afar, but I do fathom sorrows of the stars, and then, my pen dwindles breathlessly, sprawling the letters endlessly, It is my inspiration, That cloud, which forgot a downpour, Or that country lass, who sang a folk lore, that

Let alone the maze of words, reveal that yonder scent, s l o w l y, s t e a d i l y, verse by verse song after song Until the journey, to those uncanny lands, where everything thaws into nothingness........ (c) S.S

It is like falling, into the magnetic abyss, with delightful walls of the words of the unknown, How beauteous would be a verse, which bears no definition, of a semblance, or a voice, or even an existence, An Ode, for a majestic form of words, And I can weave those verses, again, and again, and again, That subsistence would be, Above and beyond everything, that ever existed, or would ever exist, A definition, that only I, and the unseen can fathom........ (c) S.S

Yes, There is an otherworldly terrain, It has many seasons, Rhymes, songs and perpetual verses' rains, I envision, A colossal tendrilled gate, Beyond the lines of which, Endures no destiny, and no fate, As you'd step inside, those blossomed bounds, the skies are wider than ever, and cordial are those Odic grounds, Love, adorations are worthless there, All that persists, is poetic presence, It is no slave to pledges and swears, It's a dive into the sea of, idyllic fragrance....... (c) S.S

I was asked, "How deep did you traverse, into that abyss, where only darkness delved, all life was amiss?" I said, "I slipped into that infinite shell, devoid of twists and bends, and in that mysterious tranquil, I made some ideal friends." I was asked again, "How can one slip into seclusion, and make unseen acquaintance?" I said, "Sometimes, it is in that insipid delusion, that non existent alone makes sense." (c) S.S

In the distant woods of Aberdeen, Lived a fairy named 'Why-so-Keen', always curious, nosy and peeping, She was turning snoopy and creeping, "Why do the butterflies have colorful wings? How does a Cuckoo so sweetly sings? Why shall only Lion be the Jungle's king? What gives the scorpions their stingy stings?" But least did she know, that during the days of winter and snow, A fat grumpy bear called  Bubbly Beeps, Goes into a very long sleep, Came the winters and chilly were the winds, all lay frozen from front till hind, But Why-so-Keen was very baffled, Bubbly Beep's sleep, had left her muffled, She flew to the cave where the bear was in dreams, But looking at the darkness, she gave a loud scream! Oh but she didn't know, bear's hate to get awoken, It was the time, when they go in hibernation, Bubbly Beep roared, and woke up angrily, Why-so-Keen shivered, and then smiled questioningly, With an eyebrow raised and a hilar

There's a strange greed, in how this agony feeds, Upon the wounded soul, My words take heed, What be that distant, reciprocal scent, who, alike my apparent self, is entangled in a veiled dissent? We seek refuge,  from a suffocating deluge, 'neath the blanket of the night, Calming down, as we think of the muse, And so I envision your image, trespassing the brewing rage, letting the virgin expressions unfurl, as I pen my soul upon every page....... (c) S.S

No matter how strong, be those masking bones, the anguished reminiscences, are adamantine, a mountain of perpetual refute and scorn, A compassionate form, now rigid and blind, But what wrong did the heart endure? It carried the soul of Icarus, with the ethereal wings of wax and feathers, it fell for vows, evil and pernicious, Only to burn to ashes and embers........                     ~S.S~

It's a mystery, and forever shall be, how an entombed twinge can loom, from deepest depths of the heart that can be, When for no ostensible reason, the eyes become dewy, marking the onset of soul's rainy season, A crippled heart isn't slave to any teary cloud, all it needs is a drop of reminiscences, and a flood tears apart the pretension's shroud, And so the words come to rescue, with the cape of ink, and the soul is scattered impromptu, All barriers lay crippled and crumbling, by the torrent of ceaseless verses, but the soul stays famished, wailing and mumbling........ (c) S.S

Discreetly called as maniacs, we are the Poets, However we might be enveloped, by the beloved or significant others, A vague desolation secretly bothers, with which we are forever swaddled, We look like humans, but lead the dynasty of owls, During days we dream,  At night we breathe in otherworldly realms, In the absence of words, our inner wolves incessantly howl, We seek endlessly, for a strange void continues to dwell, like an ever rising seclusion's swell, and we end up as givers, repeatedly, We pledge our souls earnestly, assuming the destination as our wholesomeness, But donning the cloak of righteousness, The taker leaves us with self pity, But we are poets,  seekers for life, Treading ahead, nothing do we forget, journeying with words, until the 'one' we have met, as we continue to battle our ceaseless inner strife........ (c) S.S

Swirling through unforeseen trails, she flows like a river, unquenchable, yet hopeless on a ceaseless quest, Eager to reach her home, where her wizard exists.........              ~S.S~

                                                                  I wish o ur words could meld once again Just like the Earth  melts  in the embrace of the first rain                           ~S.S~

Following the trail of the rising sun, and taking sight of the farthest star,  I ventured to seek you in the eastern lands,  but caught in the tumult,  within my heart,  it seems I got drifted,  a little too far, and now I am a seeker again,  Seeker of my Seer....             ~S.S ~

She treads every night, towards the sky,  when the sun bids goodbye, and the Moon holds its head high, is that the pride that the lovers bestow it with? Swooning over its luminescence, she reveres him, in that celestial light, that transcendental splendor, which sweetly kisses his eyes.......                    ~S.S~

In the sea of words and verses, she swam beyond the forbidden reefs, and upon a distant shore, found a gem, concealed in the sands of grief, "Can such beauteous a thing, be servile to the chains of dust?" Thought bewildered Poetry, she rubbed the jewel, rubbed it until it shone bright, Until upon it, sparkled the bright rays of morrow's light, Echoed the sky and the sea, and thunder clasped endlessly, Baffled stood the dazed Poetry, as the gem turned into a handsome Seer, Their eyes met, and the shore beamed in joy, as the nature penned their romance's ploy, Her words and his magic were one, leaving even the five elements stunned, Vows were made, oaths taken, they wrote verses in the winds, with the ink of fire, fragrant with the ocean's water, covered with the sheets of the sky, they buried the pages in the heart of the earth........ (c) S.S

Born like a blossom, ending up in crumbs,  The worldly glitters indeed,  left her cold and numb.........               ~S.S ~

Connections of the hearts,  and the accord of two souls apart, is just a bunch of exaggerated baloney, a verse penned with letters of phony, What is genuine 'neath those veiled vows? How does a heart, in penitence grow? If the sufferer is apt to be filled with acid, Won't a tedious trial make even the liable acrid? Wonders Poetry, drenched in sardonic rain, what is it to be sheathed in unseen cape of pain, She sees that sarcastic beam on his face, While her words fall back, seeking the forfeited grace........                            ~S.S~

....and recalling the random moment, that he chose to disappear, indiscreet of her heart's consent, farther from her shores he steered, the petals of that stray hour, still carry a melancholic scent.........                                                  ~S.S~

From the eastern woods, to the coast of the enchanted shamanic soil, adorned in the seer's hood, dwells a noble and plenary soul, with the magician's incantations, and the verses' that sing, the curse of damnation, to her it brings, Inexplicable stands the recurrent disquiet, be it the auroral day, or the lull of every night, Within her, it lingers and stays, It isn't the worldly chaos, that hinders her every breath, but some ruins within, crumbly and dusty, Bedecking her with an ethereal thorny wreath, Clustered in her heart, like a crystal of gravity........                              ~S.S~

It isn't rare, that inner cognizance, a thought that sprouts at a random instance, That it is solely midst the glory of the echoing mountains, where this heart shall be pardoned from all its pain, There, where I must submerge in the fragrant blossoms, and sway to the tunes of the bees that hum, Or must I be one with the pristine white, delving forever in that quiescent sight, The intenseness of a spiritual calling, sets this soul free, as I can feel the trail of the cliffs, while still at the sea, It is that trice where I often halt and envisage, and resolve to amass my precious treasure of outrage....                                    ~S.S~