Transcript Document

V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and
Poems
V.P.T. Digital Paintings and
Poems
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
Time’s Love
The sun Leaves mingle
with the yellow,
and steal
some light from it
But Time loves
fluffy sparrows,
brings autumn in,
frees leaves
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V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
Inside The Sunlight
Have you ever seen the sun when it
is dying
behind the autumn branches glowing
white
Have you been trapped in your soul
crying
Have you ever, for no reason, cried
Have you loved so much, so honestly,
so fully
Have you wanted to give yourself
away
Have you ever needed someone
really
Have you ever trapped in sunlight
stayed
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V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
THE FALLING LEAF
In early winter, when the sunshine
mist
goes thick, like is the fog on
mornings next,
dense, as if life has scattered its most
precious gist,
dispersed in sunlight, showing its
very best
When people plunge into this sea,
like into their condensed hopes own,
a leaf comes off an old tree
and spirals down to the ground
This yellow, nonchalant leaf,
descends into a good heart, giving
compassion, understanding, feeling,
and music for all poets living
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
…The heart sees beauty falling off,
and yearns to help it, with strength,
up
Heart’s lovely courtship’s humble
song
is played in sounds stifled wise
Then, startled, the heart feels the fall,
accepts the danger of a break,
be rid it will, but there rolls
the loveliest leaf which can’t escape
In the finale, scared, played,
is that half-pitying, resigned part
which lets the autumn shred its
wealth
enlightenment leaving for the heart
V.P.T. 23.11.2003
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
Hiding
A swallow sleeks like an arrow,
uncertain, chasing, on the sky
The sky is hiding from the mountain
its blue can’t match the sea’s by right
In it, the autumn felt is early
Below it, just rustling breeze
No tree crowns give a sign of moving
Just air cool hangs in between
Upon the wet path, people walking,
All speaking in their own tongues
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
…The bared by the rains roots old
hide their reluctance to be steps
Profusion of grass, herbs, alongside,
hide insects and the mole holes
The violet blooms on their tall stems
don’t smell like mint, don’t prick like
thorns
The raspberry bushes hide the nettle
that stings the picking probing arm
The sun’s behind a cloud petty
The shades whiff off the coming night
A layer fresh of pebbles hiding
will run down with the first downpour
The pine trees, weary of green light,
are drooping as if for support
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
…The bowing trees hide they are not
keeping
the waterfall from the sunshine,
and that their branches overhanging
are drinking from its moisture fine
A bridge is hiding its sighs honest
and lets the river active pass
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
…The river’s singing its songs,
poems,
to hide it’s digging down cuts
A mossy boulder dividing
the river into two streams hides
the fact that both streams will be
finding
each other in the shortest while
A bend that promises rest, stopping,
is hiding the straightforward race
Moraines hide under waters sliding
their slippery unsoaked face
Everyone is hiding something
V.P.T. 12.08.2006
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
Autumn
In a momentum of its inspiration,
the Autumn Early dipped its fingers
in paints natural, still green,
and splashed the slopes with the
figures
of trees and leafage on life keen
Then with a brush which for
whitewashing
was used, it blurred the sky-clear
blue,
then with its palm, the coming-going
new roads cleared for its routes
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
…In a momentum of its integration,
the Autumn Ripe whiffed at the sight,
made sunrays merge and mixed the
colours,
sent cars and lorries on a drive
Then Autumn Late came in the
picture
and made all take their opposite
hues,
the negatives of blue and white,
green,
the negatives of driving smooth
Then Autumn Late was honoured,
chosen,
to hand the world onto the spring
The winter'll be somehow over,
all winters rushed are, through,
unseen
V.P.T.
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
The Indian Summer
The Indian summer’s now over,
past last unthoughtful playful fits
Men’s heads are still upright, though
lower
The Crazy, to her life, still speaks
To spy on time, her diary’s written
To prove its might, the sun bores
holes
inside the leaf-shred autumn willow,
but cannot fight the birch in gold
The day can’t stand the thought of
cold,
still fresh, but cool now in the wind
The night is furious, an old
deceived, cheated, mate: a fiend
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
…They’ll reconcile: the light and
darkness
They’ll get together through the frost
They’ll meet and, like with truthful
partners,
from day to night, the city’ll cross
A long, long time will pass in sleeping
or in adapting to a loss
The day and night will part unheeding
how fussy is the Cold Boss
The city’ll wake, the Crazy speaking
to her life and to her next step
The hopeful lot will be here living
expecting Indian summers next
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V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
Autumn 1999
It's autumn, and the leaves have
grown
much more in number: as if age
and colours different on show
outnumber passed in splendour
days
It's autumn, leaves of brown and
yellow
are fluttering inside the light
The sun, descending, sends its
glow
to touch the carpet on the path
It's autumn, fading with soft fingers
the dowry of the spring
The river only, cold, lingers
inside its bed, and its songs sings
V.P.T.
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
Afresh
A fresh trace here the autumn's
left:
a footprint on the yellow path
The leaves have fallen in contest
for speed and colours: life-real, fast
The sun is scattered in lights dense
of different sized and shaped sunfractions
Behind the trees leaf-bared,
braced,
the lights are seen, but not the
branches
Downtown, one tall pine tree's
trapped
in its hair set of weedy plants:
as if the autumn's green, live, net
has dropped, to calm, its urgent
heart
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
…Some strays, a pack, are
squatting down
inside the middle of the road
and barking, chasing, running
round
the cars selected by some code
And, slowly the sun descends
The day's now shorter as is usual
The strays have, with the time
passed, changed
and are now guarding ‘their’ people
The people of a similar lot,
drab in their dress and ragged in
prospects
The pack of strays, unfed,
uncaught,
at dawn, will start afresh their
contest
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V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
Seasons In The City
‘How is your mother?’ he was then
asked
‘I’m roaming in search for jobs’
Nobody’d told him that, at life’s dusk,
all’s settling, and he matters not
At dawn, when growth’s on and busy,
their hearts will hope for a start:
all people’s hearts, all, like his,
freezing
with desperation in sunlight
The season’d changed inside that
small street
The trees had grown tall and strong
The leaves of autumn flew light, easy
No season is forever long
It’s only then that people look up
to see from where splendour comes
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
…The slight wind puffs the carpet
living
The rustling music’s for the ground
In spring, no one will see leaves
growing,
for people’ll aim to grow, too
The ground’ll be all water-spotted
to balance any hope-filled mood
In summer what will matter most
will be the shade the trees can give
No one will look up at their crowns
Hard-working people’ll flee and live
In winter, branches white with snow
will be no comfort for those cold
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
…The street will be a track snowcovered
with frozen, and tramped-down, hope
‘How is your mother?’ he was then
asked
‘I’m roaming in search for jobs’
Nobody told him that, at life’s dusk,
nobody matters but life’s lots
V.P.T. 9.11.2003
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
A WHITE ROSE
The poem of a rose’s heart
was somewhere in the setting sun
A rose white, a tender bud
was peering to drink love’s wine
The sentence first was of importance
It had the key words of a life:
Your spring has definitely options,
your summer’s hot, your autumn’s dry
Rose, love is something too
momentous,
as unexpected as a gift
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
…Your winter, to your colour’s added
what no other flower needs
The poem of a rose’s heart
was somewhere in the setting sun
The rose white, a tender bud,
was peering to drink love’s wine
It blossomed, and the night kissed it
Too late it was, it was too early
The blossom, deep in its heart, hid
to write its most beautiful poem
V.P.T. 9.10.2004
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
AUTUMN 2004
The old tree’s log, again, is young,
with blooms of mushrooms white and
fresh,
as if its heart and its brain wise
can tell the story of its age
The trees in colours and in height
reach up, for last, to kiss the blue
and condescend to let their gold
spread on the path in happy mood
The brook is clear over sand
The bridge is good and sleeping dull
The birds that in the branches sang
have hidden in this season’s calm
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
…Nobody seeing the sun’s brightness
can guess the reasons for its shine
The path is taken, passed, and out
of every daily plan or line
The autumn is confined in shyness
with limited donated means,
with its own strangeness to its quiet,
with own mirrors for its deeds
How long it lasts, it doesn’t know
Until its tired of itself
Until it bends its cheers low
Until, to winter, takes the bend
V.P.T. 23.10.2004
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
Winter’s Mid-Season
Mid-season: time for a transition
from changes tough with strong
results
to coming out- hushed, initialfrom uniform, snow-covered sites
All reasons get brushed as belonging
to the prosperity that hid
in former wealth, to give new longing
for claims on the spring-time field
The bridge between the toughest
seasonsthe autumn and the spring that’s
nextnow sees the year’s whole existence
tossed over in mid-winter’s hands
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
…The winter’s luck is in possession
of time, of aims, ways- all bleak
At both ends stands the same
recession
and tucks the year underneath
A heap of snow rises slowlythe cold needs to see the sunand on the top, mid-season’s showing
the very best of winter’s loves
Mid-winter’s time- at its back
splendour,
ahead- all hope, though young
Beneath the heap of snow melting,
a whole new year gathers strength
V.P.T. 30.01.2005
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
Illusions
The bridge which leads across the river
is silent on this fact- it spans
one stream that, with its partner, split up,
and only half has done of plans
A table lonely, worth compassion,
made of the halved of felled trees,
is in between two wooden benchesno matter who comes, he will leave
The river running, running down
is white with light, with bubbles, glee
Somewhere further, somewhere round,
it will be just more water clean
A fletching young, stepped on its long legs,
with beige and brown on breast frail,
is pewing its call to the forestthe sound evens head to tail
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
…The slope is a perfect mount
of light green beeches, dark pine treesthe ridge is dark, the tops touch clouds
which seem they can, but can’t be reached
A birch is almost on the sun’s facea tree so tall, a tree so strong,
its stem so bare of old branches
that had to dry, and had to fall
Some tiny yellow leaves are flyingunique upon a summer day
Some weeks, and in the autumn coming,
all leaves will, under trees bare, lay
An opening, wild with its beauty,
and with its blossoms, and its green
A bee is working hard and cutely
for someone else to eat its meal
Illusions fine on days of plenty,
forever in the mountain’s view
Illusions shattered hourly, daily
forever old and forever new
V.P.T. 23.08.2006
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
AUTUMN 2006
The summer’s tempers were a good fill
of heat exasperating to plans, feelings
Now autumn’s here- hurried, skilled
in catching- in its moods- the city
The last of summer’s wish to grow
was given out in free treatsits alms of coins small paved roads
that recognized achievements, feats
Those who stayed in the summer’s city,
all through the sunlight and the storms,
are now hurrying, have no pity
for their aims unreached and old
Those who took rest, were somewhere out,
are looking for new links
The time and weather of the summer
sigh, scooped in autumn’s cool and brinks
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
…On sidewalks, cyclists cautious wind through,
pedestrians compete for land,
suppliers carry ladders long, tramps brood,
and mothers push their babies’ prams
The street is blocked by cars and work trucks
The crossroads’ lights blink green or red
The movement is upon the sidewalks
The still is on the road’s face
The quarters of the new old cityfor their people growing, longingattracts cars, trucks, and tempers, feelings
while teaching patience and belonging
The wave of change- felt, feared, promised,
is sweeping its length and its depth
The city, which can’t travel bodily,
welcomes now next, more hustled, days
The first of autumn’s treat is offeredthe herald yellow leaves join winds
The winds heap them to help the sweepers,
and carry off what sweepers heap
The autumn new, impatient, skilled, willed,
is catching- in its moods- the city
The summer’s tempers were the fill
of heat exasperating to plans, feelings
V.P.T. 1.09.2006
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
A WONDERFUL DAY
The day is ripe with autumn’s quiet,
and sunny with the aging summer
A Sunday restful for the towns,
and full of guests fuss for the country
Extremes are sticking to jobs, spotssome to the light upon the fields,
some to the shades in their homes,
some are to balance with their needs
Some hearts yearn for a little change,
but their minds warn of conditions,
and they go on to see the end
from which on choice has no limits
Extremes are sticking to their plotssome to trips fine, some to restrictions
Their hearts yearn for a change, a swap,
but minds warn of confirmed positions
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
….Extremes are sticking to old scoresto victory, or to defeat’s pride
Of change of luck, their hearts do
warn,
but their minds yearn of their next
flights
A wonderful day, charming, free
No chance to have a like-it day
Those who have no place in it
are missing nothing of the play
The day is ripe with autumn’s quiet,
and sunny with the aging summer
A Sunday restful for the towns,
and full of guests fuss for the country
V.P.T. 3.09.2006
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
THE SEASONS OF THE DAY
The sun is conquering the night and its own
morninga separate identity huge on the roofs
The city’s taking shifts in moods, in fates, and trafficlike its own birds is flocking in its broods
The sky is spotless, misty, dainty
The combers of bins team in their artone’s emptying the contents upon the pavement,
one guards to fight off the remarks
The buildings facing east are glorious
Those facing west- in hope, praying, wait
The sun’s rays- visible, like in a forest
The sun’s face- dark and glow-framed
The golden leaves have gathered under their trees
The grass is frost-glazed; seeded dandelions loom
The mountain beyond, like a white iceberg, half-seen
and half snow-free, like a shadow of night’s room
The brighter the day gets, the further the sun goes,
the clearer the sky’s in blue
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
….Soon, as the sun withdraws like
children punished,
the day accepts a season new
The grass gets lush and green, a
spring’s grass,
consuming autumn’s melting charm
The day is half-way on its short path,
and tired of its own frowns
Some dandelions yellow blossom
pretty,
the old ripe white heads bend in seek
The crows shun the midday city
and sweep, in groups, from tree to
tree
The sky’s remote; white clouds
hanging
to separate the people down
from the eternity defending
the notion of a heaven fine
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
…. Cold light, smoke, mist, form a
compound
which drives inside the city homes
Loud-silent time ticks in the souls
of men’s and women’s job-set lots
The day is short, but balanced too
welllike elegant, intelligent, goodmannered, art
So perfect is the day with all its
seasons
that it repels and keeps apart
Last night’s sun- sliding, red, and
ripened,
is past, but memories see it
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
…The dusk, last night, was light,
warm-hearted,
with doors of light and life in it
Tonight the city must find shelter
The rain will fall until the dawn
The season next will come and settleseen on the frosty mountain tops
The day will sleep in slumber old
Men’s heels will sleek in women’s
mood,
and women’s will drum on the stones
like marching soldiers over dew
V.P.T. 11-12.11.2006
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
What Winds Do
When life applies its common zeal
to teach the people their places,
what people have, is what they feel,
what others have, is dreams and laces
What people see, they shun, admire
What poets feel, is poems’ mornings
Before the winter conquers, dire,
the autumn winds come in with warnings
A window high looks far all round,
and knows that the world is huge
A window nearest to ground
will watch the seasons, and will choose
The window tall will feel the weather,
will judge the misty mountain’s heights,
will drip with rain, with fear tremble,
will bake inside the sun and light
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
…The window humble will watch the winds
that shake off leaves and fruit ungathered,
will wonder, and the distance meet
to reach the branches overhanging
The early wind before the autumn
will groom the trees, will dust their
products,
will rough the seas green-blue, remote,
will whirl life’s bits to litter corners
What one can see, one is describing
Imagination’s webby stores
are elegantly waiting, trapping
life’s views against its whitewashed walls
The wind of time is blowing round,
the vine’s grapes ripen for the birds,
the distant waves are huge and proud,
the autumn’s sending warnings first
V.P.T. 5.09.2007
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
A Pessimist
The moon is still there, full and smiling,
to welcome, glowing, the sunrise
In windows three, the sun’s face’s shining
Still more and more burn in cold light
Of its own moisture, the sky is ridding
and formulating its excess
Small clouds hang upon the city:
a threat at this view fine addressed
The city humps, gloomed by the clouds,
by rain it’s washed, by winds it’s dried
A star peeps in, a seeing eye; now
it measures its place and its time
Between the grey hair of compliance
and the eyed-haired street extreme,
between defeat and its reluctance,
and angry hatred: men’s live stream
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
…What if, upon a sudden notion,
some growing heart decides to build,
a chance to give to work and caution,
to make high walls of stone and brick
The higher up the building goes
to see beyond the streets and men,
the further round the strict watchman
sees from the top of this fine place
What if the heart, upon its notion,
decides to beat its best love tune,
instead of echoing alone,
to ask in all the hearts and groans
For need to see, some windows open
then doors to enter and to leave,
guards to fend off unasked intruders,
then fences, gardens, rooms and feed
Those who cannot give some good
praises
to heart’s love tune or its home fine
can go to some different places
and try there to beat, or to chime
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
….The people airing achievement,
afraid the lazy will assess
how many lag or have false
feelings,
and who dares say he’s failed tests,
meet people changing good
environment
or searching for chance to succeed,
they pass those whose choice is
‘enjoy life’
and even men content they meet
On holidays, men seen are
wandering
to see if groups are organized,
some seen are all alert and probing
for trouble from the groups
despised
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
….Some say that men, like frogs,
have own pools,
and rules spread to the whole bog,
in seas there are some different
rules,
but then we’d be fish, and not frogs
A pessimist has found his treasure,
involved, involving, hate and fright,
he instigates the scenes
adventurous,
and books pathetic, inexhaustibly,
writes
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
….A boy there watches a poet writing
exhilarated with the trees
Thrown stones shorten gaps dividing
the mystery of dreams from means
A girl has caught an autumn butterfly,
its wings shown to her granny and
aunt,
her granny’s singing an old song’s
line,
her aunt is picking her nose plump
Some men are climbing, show their
body strength,
afraid the top is only one
Some are returning, all the slope’s
length,
unwilling to let others climb
V.P.T. Autumn Flowers and Poems
…The pessimist is there watching,
describing, in convenience, life
The written words are cruelly
cautious
and hit the weakest in the strife
What must men do as a priority:
one is to fear, one to live
The pessimist is there watching,
and always right, all pessimists
The moon is still there, full and
smiling
to welcome, glowing, the sunrise
Men’s lives reflect life’s face and,
shining,
divert to interests all shades and light
V.P.T.