The beautiful women of green Norway, Away from sad struggles of other north, Close to the right broom of sisters' witches, In various books on holy water; Frightened cats and small snakes were all blood red, Grasses swayed in the wind on a long road. Many stones paved in colours a long road, Close to the blue ocean of green Norway, Puzzle pieces fell from the sky blood red, In the lovely hillside of other north, Where the big chair burns this holy water, Beautiful women are sisters' witches. Where the big chair burns these sisters' witches; Stirring stars in the sky spoke the long road, Away from struggles of holy water, Where the big red chair sits in green Norway, Close to the blue ocean of other north, Her wild hair was tangled up and blood red. Tall ornamental vases were blood red; In various books on sisters' witches, Where the big red chair sits in other north, Moon fell down to my bag on the long road, Away the sad struggles of green Norway, Close to the right broom of holy water. Happiness may run with holy water; Around the stone circle was all blood red, In the lovely hillside of green Norway, Happiness may run the sisters' witches, From my crown, a star flew on the long road, Away from sad struggles of other north. Happy people live well in other north; Beautiful women are holy water, Trees grew tall and fresh along this long road, These flying angry birds were all blood red, Away struggles! of the sisters' witches, Happy people live well in green Norway. The long road to other north, Green Norway gave holy water, Blood red are the sisters' witches.
What is here? I believe in my setting, Environment and those who speak with me. Who is calling? Nice are calls I'm getting. The friendly faces which are around me. In real life people communicate, Having an effect on my life, they care. Like my support friends they elaborate, I can spend sometime thinking to compare. From Australia I'm getting a long note, Perceive outcome of corporality. Texting back, sometimes relatives promote. With my support friends no formality. There are billions of people on this earth, I stick around with those who give me mirth.
Note: In this sonnet I am only sticking to a 14 line verse and 10 syllable per verse, composed into two four verse stanzas and two three verse stanzas. The rhyme is ABAB//CDCD//EFE//FGG A. S. Wangmo
It worries me a lot that guilty are, Running around free, and innocent are, Left with pain and hurting; healing themselves. Where does fairness live and let's talk with her? Where did human decency go to hide? What happened to their communication? What makes our spiritual work so hard? He did not do anything wrong, at all? Some people are fighting inordinate, Battle to stay alive and while silenced; The good cannot wait to meat the other. All virtuous people need each other, Supporting each other, made possible, For people and flexible and honest.
Note: This is an edit of a previously unpublished sonnet poem from April 23, 2021. I am only sticking to a 14 line verse and 10 syllable per verse, composed into two four verse stanzas and twothree verse stanzas. A. S. Wangmo
Gurudongmar Lake is one of the highest lakes in the world and in India, located at an altitude of 5,430 m (17,800 ft). Located in the state of Sikkim in India, It is considered sacred by Buddhists, Sikhs and Hindus. Photo on Unsplush by Abhishek Singh.
Love encircles many types of feeling; Love is like glue bonding us through it all; Love makes life for everyone noble cause; Love brings out in us divine qualities; Love is indisputably worth for some; Love is a need for all sentient beings; Love is a companion based in good cause; Love brings about big happiness for all; Love is like water and air on our earth; Wisdom can arise from love to act clear; Raising virtue, kindness and compassion; Love brings about peace for the green planet; It is intelligent to be loving; In benefit of all sentient beings.
Note: This is an edit of a previously free verse poem published on August 23, 2020. I changed it to a Sonnet Poem and I am only sticking to a 14 line verse and 10 syllable per verse, composed into two four verse stanzas and two three verse stanzas. A. S. Wangmo
Nature designed many perfect structures. Geometric lines make something sacred. Basic assembly, spacial relation; Lines forming angles, triangles and more. Resourcefulness of nature, how lines bend, Cross over and meet, lines create shadows. Symbols of many lines, guiding man kind. Man has discovered a lot in the world, (And oh much more is still there to be learned) Where our hands meet in a mudra and shape, Triangle made out of lines with our hands, Bending the fingers it becomes a heart. Architectural marvels, triangles; Louvre is made of many triangles; We remember sacred geometry.
Happy Birthday Arjuna Ardagh 🕉
The sky light blue traces of white thin lines, Planes crossing, big metal birds line the sky, Over the blossoming trees, our homes, Life happening, wind is blowing the lines. Scattered shapes are changing in the blue sky, White disappears into blue completely. Beaming warm sun appears to be heating, Symbols in the sky express uniquely. No rain in sight, the blue above us all, The planet rotating and our sky, Is busy in a flow of day and night; Covering our Earth hosting symbols, Some places are covered with rolling clouds, Different places have different lines.
Things change and our lives are dynamic.
Ideas come and go, what stays with us,
Are pieces of the whole diamond of mind.
We move the experience into way,
Traditional. On the flow of breath we,
Discover our presence. Glimpse of now.
The night wind, its visions and our sky.
Black Phoebe sings its nest by the water.
The visiting concepts of creation,
Heralding their appeal of completion.
Dapper wings fly visions in our minds.
Hunches and inklings going about us,
Like chirping birds, knowing each tune they sing
To notice neat words, which are simply liked.
I have a person doing work for me.
A deep spiritual, religious work.
I suffer less from the pain of hatred,
Of my beget, because this person cares,
About me. When will I see the face of,
My saviour? It takes an inordinate,
Amount of pain to keep the beget out,
Of my place. To have decent place to live.
We must put ourselves in difficult,
Circumstances to educate beget.
Oh my good God, an abominable,
Pain, she is greedy and irrational.
We both want to be free, so my helper
Can help me with ease. Is she leaving me?
Well I am a Jew and not practicing.
Go out and tell people some truth today.
Now Feel free in your expression people,
‘You are a loser’ it is okay Jude
Hand out truth to people like you mean it.
I am not talking about myself here,
Oh no, I won. Truth is victorious.
I have nothing to worry about boy.
Friends are at my table. Care amongst us.
Glasses clinking, French wine pouring, sipping,
Run your finger around the rim, tap your,
Cutlery on the glass, unshushable,
Conversations, expressions, honesty.
Jude you left yourself out with your envy.
Industrial revolution was much.
Colonization wasn’t next good theme.
We are fascinated with ourselves.
And we do not know how to globalize.
Let’s elevate the native consciousness,
Of native people above our own.
In this country, this was their land, home, light.
Native people have their way of whole life.
We do not see or think about strangers,
As a family. For a while. To be.
Then again when we look at histories,
Our European lands left behind,
We used to think this way, long long ago;
We used to do all business on friendship.
Native Earth ways were our tradition.
Today we are disconnected and lost.
City at night, bright lights disperse darkness.
Cars with red and white bright and changing light.
The scene illuminated, darkness cut.
By light, light brings in bright, clear, certain glow.
Glow moves with the subject through the dark night.
Bright lights will blind eyes in vivid darkness.
The glow fills the darkness, it disappears.
Light reaches deeply into the shadows.
Magically darkness reflects brightness.
Few colours of light in the art of dark.
Surfaces disappear in the darkness.
Darkness hides our shadows and good sight.
With the bright lights on, we move on quickly.
Light changes us and darkness of the night.
The rains will come to refresh our land.
Grass washed in the rain water is happy,
Melodious winds blow through the grass fields,
Above sky has its own activity;
Missing the busy lives of small beings,
Living in the grass fields invisible.
Light sparkles in wet drops of rain water,
Reflecting blades of glass, I wonder what,
They say to each other. Slithering snake,
In her way knows the grass and what she holds.
Green wet blades of grass bending to pressure;
Do not break, they resiliently rise;
Up on their own time, sometimes to the sun.
Other times to each other or the stars.
The secret empowering. History.
Countering main stream culture attitudes.
The underground movements in many sites.
We all came out of our suffering.
Sending a lucid message to the world;
Numbers; Peaceful revolutionaries.
Good Goddess! What have we gone through to gain,
Our voices in the world. What sorrow!
In us we carry a knowledge of what,
Is right. It is in everything we do,
Even in the wrong things. It is just there;
In the world. We worry about the world.
We are right in our thinking to go
against the violence in clever ways.
Grief is a very hard friend to go hand,
In hand with. Sadness creeps in and when you,
Don’t want has much to remind you of what,
you already know. My man I am grief,
Stricken by grief over our loss of
Your life. My friend you were my Father it,
is deeply hurtful to not see your face.
My friend so intelligently you moved,
To live by the sea, your loss is daily,
felt and the three of you remain etched on,
my mind. I cry and I mourn you. Grief is.
A painful teacher and time is ticking.
A responsibility is in us.
A a ha sha sa ma. And then there is.
Extracted from the experience of,
Life are words of poetry. Hmm. They do,
Trouble the thinking of a discussion.
Poets can write about anything and;
A poet will write of what is to them
significant. Hmm. How now is that so,
Egotistical. I love that we can
be this way. This is extremely funny.
The problems of this world are indeed big.
The topics are finite, a certain way.
It becomes a matter of how your mind;
Moves. Ha ha ha ha ha ha. You need to
never want to impress anyone. Yes!
Conflicts of the world will look at you then.
My child you are looking in a wrong place,
For the very thing you don’t understand.
Knowledge isn’t given to everyone.
I don’t speak to those who are interested.
I speak to those who dismiss this fully.
Annoyingly pursuing what isn’t,
Yours for curiosity in a wrong,
Name of religion. That is abuse, no;
Matter how you want to twist it in you.
Some will stare at a face of a teacher,
And never get a grace to understand.
Now Religion is to keep its secrets.
A life is a measure and a frame you,
Are the one making choices about who?
Sparkle beams are playing on everything;
It’s fun to watch and study light refract,
From the surface of everything around.
Like a shimmy touches a tiny piece
Of anything it explores, the objects
With an attitude collaborate and,
Shimmer is an answer from the surface.
Sometimes a blink of a light from something,
that would not bling bling at us otherwise,
Is a sign that we all belong to light.
Through the day light change our shades and at,
night you hide inside. Sun is occupied.
Everyday it does its job and complains
about it’s work, who knows of that? We know.
Talent to be a poet,
If I begin writing of syllables,
An icon within an icon for words,
Takes up time in my mind a sestina,
An amassed heritage a gift of age,
Shifting attention to geometry,
A space of geometry.
Occupied is a mind of a poet,
Humanity’s development pass age,
I might want to use the ‘gin’ syllable,
Meaningful something of a sestina,
Like in the days of old about these words.
Like a salad mixing words.
Numbers move in circles, geometry.
French, Tuscan, Spanish love a sestina;
Writing briefly like a refined poet,
I have two hands for these ten syllables,
Watching measurements of a passing age.
Valuable are things of age;
Collecting valuable favourite words,
These many sounds of meaning, syllable;
Words, symbols distinguish geometry,
Like fine art words depict for a poet,
Demanding strict follow to sestina.
For a bleat a sestina.
Death and life, an experience of age,
Prioritizing words by a poet,
A writer counting and sharing her words,
Mathematics of pie, geometry,
Any more, I will need your syllables.
A sound of a syllable.
Six lines any order a sestina.
An oldest branch of math, geometry,
Weaving our relations in an age.
Let’s forget articles in these few words,
Imagery understood by a poet.
Here geometry, for a measure or laugh, a syllable.
Merci poet, for these long sestinas,
An age lasts as do words.
An early morning sun in the window,
Welcomes me now with an orange sparkle,
The clouds are tired, nights roll with the moon,
They are about to move out of the way,
For a bright day ahead and clear blue sky.
The hue of the sun is inviting, warm,
Like it has a plan, reach the horizon,
Melting away the brightness in the toil,
Of a climb, rising steadily, changing,
An atmosphere finally settled on,
The right seat in the sky preparing to,
warm up the day over many hours.
Today not so many discouraging,
Clouds to roll by the sun, not so much of,
An attitude, these weather clouds ruin,
The sun’s work, looks encouraging today.