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anything but

This is the damage a hoarder can do

anything but

to hoarders, addicts and all those mentally dysfunctional people who have the right to systematically destroy everyone else’s life around them yet no one has the no right to stop them until, maybe, after the havoc and destruction is committed

refuse, feces
peanut butter, noodles
tear drenched pillow
physical contact

moldy dishes
cracker crumbs
fly paper
straight up Vodka

copy machine panel
kibble bags
loose carpet fiber
entitlement check

gastric volcano
intestinal flat worms
cerebral hornets
obligations to be met


Written for:


Write2Day–A Love Affair with Words

We were asked to dip into an addiction or a few of your choice, or enter the mind of an addict, and see what happens.

Also posted on:

The Gooseberry Garden
Poetry Picnic Week 28: These Are A Few of My Favorite Things (A Repost)

Photo Credit:  Bat-Ami Gordin  © 2009 all rights reserved, credit if you use it, please. If interested in vector graphics form, please contact me.

congregating tribes

Brides and grooms arrive at a mass marriage ceremony at Bahirkhand village, north of Kolkata Feb 6, 2011.

congregating tribes

the tribes had met
they congregated every spring
the tribes had met
they ventured there despite the threat
to trade and barter everything
to marry off and seal with ring
the tribes had met


This Rondelet was written for:

The assignment was  write a poem about congregate.

Also written for:

Prompt: Tribe

Also posted on:

The Gooseberry Garden
Gooseberry Garden

Poetry Picnic Week 22: Spring, Colors, Trees, and New Lives

The Rondelet form is:

– – – A
– – – – – – – b
– – – A
– – – – – – – a
– – – – – – – b
– – – – – – – b
– – – A

Photo credit:  China Daily

Three Childhood Senryu

Cursing Anime Children

Three Childhood Senryu

crayons stuffed in holes
garden filled with many toys
children live inside

dreaming of princes
childish transpiration

between good and bad
boys were caught chanting curses
scribed in ancient books


Posted for:

The Gooseberry Garden
gooseberry Poetry Picnic Week 13:

Childhood, Dreams, Books, Role Models

Photo credit:  deviantart by konan376


Rihanna - Her Beat Up Words


It’s nothing but a thankless job,
giving you my tears.
I mope the evening away
wondrin’ where you are.
Then I hear your ring
your voice,
your needs.

I’m the artist who could
showcase you:
a framed work of joy.
To  break from your reins
sweats out  my mind.
It’s like  my own work,
my will
my time.

Encased in a holo cave
echo of your drumming heart.
So then, one day,
No more.
I won’t be there.
Don’t count
on me calling back.


Written for:


Write2Day–Labor Day Prompt

Also posted on:

The Gooseberry Garden

Poetry Picnic Week 30: Doubts, Fears, Inhibitions and Hesitations

Picture credit: mammakaze

Those Shoes

Those Shoes

The first step propelled me
into an assemblage
of misty columns,
terrifying bone-white vapors,
and sadistically whining
two-faced tears.

The next step was a leap
into an arid sandy valley
where the brutish winds
set spiders twitching
and rattlers hiding
beneath the moldy thistle.

I stepped into an ocean
commanded by microseismic eruptions
and prosaic waves converted
into hyperactive disruptive
mudslides of the continental shelves.

In vain, I did attempt to step
back into civilization
whence overwhelming fright
nullified my ability
to untie the laces
and remove those shoes.


A quicky Sunday morning write up (again, instead of writing my screenplay) for

dversepoets “Poetics – On your feet.”

Brian Miller challenged the poets to write a poem with shoes as the inspiration.

Also posted on:

Written for:

The Gooseberry Garden
Poetry Picnic Week 29: Art, Music, and Poetry By Kavita and Olivia

Where did I get the images? I’ll admit. Yesterday, along with the local ARES (Amateur Radio Emergency Service) I was present for a briefing by a NOAA scientist He was trying to recruit volunteer weather watchers.  Did I sign up to volunteer as a storm watcher? Those of you who know me, can guess, with confidence.

Oh, yeah…if you couldn’t guess, this is a metaphor for taking control of your own life, psychological state of being, and all that mental health theory.

Sonnet XXXI

Oddly Off-Kilter NGC 2442

Sonnet XXXI

Even a galaxy may be off kilter ―
not shaped like a pristine bilateral
spiral. Light streaks outward through a filter,
it seems, when snatched by a collateral
body. Free-floating hydrogen was drawn
into tangible streamer vanes of gas;
dust yanked like taffy, with endless brawn,
from the main arm. Clusters of stars surpass
a single bright light in beauty, but can’t
match up to a more exquisite rival,
like Andromeda or Whirlpool; the scant
are ripped by those larger and more frightful.
Cosmic layouts shaped like feathers and tails:
mind-numbing forces, energies and scales.


This comes from “The delicate aftermath of cosmic violence” , on @badastronomer’s Discover Magazine blog.

Posted on  Poetry Picnic Week 12: Feathers, Fidelity, Figment, and Fables

Posted on:

Open Link Night, Week 25

The Earth

Earth As Taken by Apollo 17

The Earth As Seen From Apollo 17

Clouds weave quick patterns like silken white lace;
No borders are drawn on lands seen from space.
Such beautiful seas, and bounteous lands;
The oceans, the rivers, the snows and sands;
I have searched the universe high and low
Yet cannot detect such a well made show.
It’s hard to define Earth’s magnificent life:
The glory, happiness, sorrow and strife.
It’s pitify man does not fully know
The glory of life: to produce and grow.
Earth’s life’s a marvel, I clearly can see.
I daren’t imagine how no life would be.
Out in the heavens I see my Earth fly
Like a blue-snowy crystal, on black-velvet sky.


This is the first Sonnet I ever wrote, back in 1972. It is not even a Shakespearean Sonnet. I wrote it while Apollo 17 was returning from the moon to Earth. Jack Schmidt said that he had wished he were a poet so he could write about how beautiful the Earth is. I wrote this sonnet and sent it to him. He must have really liked it because he sent me back a letter thanking me for the poem. Also, 20 years later, I wrote to him again and reminded him that I was the one who sent that poem, and he seemed to remember the poem.

Most of you know the picture above. But some probably don’t know that this is the first full picture of the Earth taken by man. I was lucky enough to meet Gene Cernan in Seattle, back in 2000. I asked him who took the picture, and he said he didn’t know. He said they had one camera, and they all took pictures whenever they saw fit. No one knows exactly who snapped that picture. That’s why, whenever you see the picture, it is credited to the entire crew of Apollo 17.

Here’s a great picture of the crew . The magnificent Saturn V rocket is in the background, and the Lunar Rover is in the foreground. Amazing engineering for the sixties. It’s the technology that got us where we are today.

Posted on:

Gooseberry Garden

Poetry Picnic Week 14: What I’m Thankful for in My Life

Also published for: