PAULLYN SIDHU

 

 

Perhaps

 

Perhaps, that was how it was meant to be,

August arriving, bringing but an autumn,

Ukulele chords of summer forgotten,

Leaving notes drifting in the wind,

Leaves falling, skittering away,

Yawns on the doorstep,

Naturally empty.

 

Suffering extracts its own pound of flesh,

In definite ounces; in measured weight,

Debilitating in its pneumonic siege,

Holding by the neck a quiet soul,

Undertones in a wintry burial.

 

***An acrostic poem I wrote which spells out my name PAULLYN SIDHU:

 

Pining

 

As I stand alone by the beach; the sea whispers, O so softly.                                  

My thoughts return to you; I wonder how you really are,

The waves gush back and forth; don’t they ever retire?

The night arrives; a last bird wheels in the grey sky,

How are you, my dearest darling, are you fine?

I wish you were here, feeling this breeze.

The leaves are shadowed and the bark.

My scarf is keeping me warm,

But I am pining for you,

Always reminiscing,

About you,

You.

You.

About you,

Always reminiscing.

Yes, I am pining for you,

My faith in God keeps me warm.

No news! Are you in a trench, in the dark? 

O I wish you were here, to prevent this freeze,

How are you, my dearest soldier, I prayed a line.

It seems like months and months ago I saw you last,

The night has come; the moths are flying to the lights.

My thoughts return to you; I wonder how you really are.

A senseless war still’s on, but the moon’s shimmering tonight.

 

*** A poem with a "K" format: 

 

That Amber!

[NANAKI-based]

 

Hot sultry weather and you!

Phew! Fan blather, sweltry-lot.

  

Pools: plain-clad clear glass.

Grass, dear, had rain drools.

 

Views sparkling in pure gold,

Bold allure in startling hues!

 

Flanks, shining silver in water.

Matter, within river, lining banks.

 

That bold Amber, she came.

Flame lit, remember? (Cold cat!)

 

You were taken in! Why?

Lie! Spin “mistaken”! The cue! 

 

How to trust that Amber?

Ember hat! Rust! You bow?

 

 

I had to save you!

New slave? Boo! Bad pie!

 

You owe me dear, now!

Wow! Clear! Free! Glow anew!

 

Shall we treasure the woods?

Broods, fur, leisure, lee? Well? 

 

****This is a 21st century poetry form invented by me. It’s called the ‘NANAKI’. A ‘NANAKI’ is a couplet which has 5 words each in Lines 1 & 2. Its unique feature is that the 5 words used in Line 2 rhyme with the 5 words in Line 1, but in REVERSE order.

(It’s not an easy poem to write. The poem below, for instance, is made up of 10 ‘NANAKI’ couplets. Note the reverse rhyme in each second line of a ‘NANAKI’ couplet.)

 

The Coal Wars

(RILLE)

 

In black charcoal,                                                                       

he scribbled, he was heard …                                            

in graphic word.                                                                             

O Lord this one could write!

Not a phallic nerd ….                                                                   

Not a daft pigeon, absurd!                                                                 

In every winter, despite the cold!                                                  

 

Black, in classic coal,                                                                          

he nibbled, he out-spoke ...                                                            

in spunky choke.                                                                       

O Lord this one could write!                                                     

Poetic poke …                                                                               

in fielded stroke!                                                                                  

In every fall, despite leaves’ scold!

 

*** RILLE is a modern-day sonnet, a 14-line fixed-poem form invented by me. It is made up of TWO SEPTETS.

What sets it apart from Italian or English sonnets and the French rondel, is that it has its own unique rhyme scheme: *ABB*R*BBA* in the first septet and *ACC*R*CCA* in the second septet.

R refers to REFRAIN or REPEATED line of rhyme which appears as a "rille" (meaning "groove") in the middle (i.e. Line 4) of each septet.

It may interest you to know that the word RILLE is most commonly associated with a long, narrow, roughly straight channel/groove/ trench/valley found on the surface of a planet or natural satellite such as the moon.

 

 

The Old Man by The Sea

 

In the ramshackle wooden stalls,

Of a rustic little Cuban village,

In the dank warmth of kitchens,

Of years' old black-coffee shops.

Many folks had mentioned him,

In Atlantic blue ‘n white marlin tell-tales.

O let them bill-fish with no aim to please!

 

I wasn’t interested in their catcalls,

Had looked away and strolled by,

I'd simply gone for a quiet walk,

To the end of a beach, in flip-flops.

Where the damp boulders smirked,

Like teens taking sneak-peeks at cleavage.

O let the hard rocks grow too cold for fleas!

 

My rump found a flat rock,

Eyes sweeping the wide sea,

Submerged; waves and rivulets,

Sombre are pools of reflection.

A cold nip pinching the very air,

And, he stepped out of shadows.

O let an old man hitch up his britches!

 

My ship is calm at a dock,

Solitude brings rich dividends.

So, I didn't move an inch,

Or let him be a distraction.

He had his rights; I had mine.

Mutual, unspoken agreement.

O let it be stated in universal niches!

 

Anyone can scream at a rocket.

Even a vast sea speaks volumes,

Rushing murderously in waves,

Pounding the grains of sands,

Receding to build a new siege.

To hammer yet, again and again.

O let the dull beach suffer in silence!

 

He took out a pipe from his pocket,

Gnarled hands fussing with matches,

One after the other; each blown out,

By a merciless wind; whip in hands. 

Without a word, I turned to him,

Cupped my palms; the leaves lit up.

O let him sigh with pleasure in essence!

 

Contentment does not lie in thrust,

It finds its own nook; snuggles in,

Makes itself at home; quiescent.

Two wise scribes in private recession. 

The winged flight of ivory-cloud gulls,

Across every sea, over the waves of blue.

O let them sweep right into the green trees!

 

The sun sank in shades of amber rust,

Gold, yellow, saffron; dizzy in its light.

Suffused in itself; a vain-glorious orb,

Leaving its mark; a lasting impression.

Twilight stole in; his pipe glowing now,

Huffing and puffing; the smoke curling up.

O let the dusk choose to be dark in degrees!

 

I didn’t want to be a beautiful Mayfly,

Speech retreated to a hidden cave,

Excursion and entry permitted by a soul,

Settled quietly on a continental shelf,

Trailing dark edges that move with plates,

Only this time, the tectonic lay in birds.

O let the crows murder with no reluctance!

 

Tendrils of his white beard; of my hair,

Ruffled in the air; in his eyes and mine,

To yield the familiar sting of warm tears,

An old percolating grief rose by itself.

Each lost in ashen hurt borne and worn,

Drowning in an ocean of helplessness.

O let the lone beach weep in forbearance!

 

**** A poem to pay tribute to Ernest Hemmingway. It is a long poem.

“Most people were heartless about turtles because a turtle’s heart will beat for hours after it has been cut up and butchered. But the old man thought, I have such a heart too.”  - Ernest Hemingway (The Old Man and the Sea)

 

PAULLYN SIDHU