Folded Hands.

To all those who wished me luck and offered their blessings in getting
my visa extended my sincere thanks. In a record three days the United
States Citizenship And Immigration Services approved and extended my
visa. Yesterday I got the news from my new company guys and I am still
busy with work sorry for the delay in getting a happy news to you guys.
 Now like she said in one of her comments, this may sound
redundant but sure, I can’t stop saying my thanks to Sam Nolte for her
offering of every ounce of her luck for me. She though says she lives
for herself, sure is the most selfless teenager I have ever known. I
will thank her rest of my life who offered such support to a total
stranger whom she knew only through the internet. May all the best
things be showered upon her in every endeavor she ever takes. Thanks Mo
Cuishle.
  And to you all wow you are the most wonderful people I’ve ever
met. You all have the best of best in the fulfillment of your dreams.
Thanks everyone.

I posted a poem called “Reading Poems” last week here. This is a
variation of that poem it was written a day after that poem was
written, with the same thoughts in my mind.

Folded Hands.

Unfettered belief in mind about love,
Convincing beyond every reason,
With unfelt feelings made up in pursuit,
For a little comfort in loneliness.

Love is the light from the heart, un-flickering,
Turn away or have to walk away with eyes shut,
But, too bright is the truth of love,
Blinded too by thoughts about her in wonder.

Even when in the heart knowing,
Like the biography of her own life,
Everything in my words I mean,
Oh’ her eyes closed against her will in guilt,
When an image of mine her eyes delivered,
Deep into her mind embedded,
With a smile of my love,
As deep in her heart filled in,
Was another face seen in every bit of her life.

With folded hands I lie,
And life folded to a breath or two,
As no more reason known at all,
To breathe life without her in my life,
And no reason seen at all,
In seeing the light from another heart,
As the light of my love fade,
Deep into the folds of my heart.

Reading Poems.

No new poems, still working on the next part of “Tess Of The
D’Urbervilles”. Well Amy Mozo and lovelyblue I love you both for taking
time to read the Tess poems and telling me what you think about the
poem. And all others who commented, I love you all too. Many asked me
what happened in my life in the last week. Well… like I said in the
previous post I just don’t feel like saying anything. I wrote two poems
after that. Both were first posted on MySpace.Com. Sam, wrote a
touching comment there for this poem. She is one wonderful person who
indeed has a pacifying effect on me when I am sad or angry. Thanks
again a lot Sam. I wrote another poem after that which is also there.
Here is the intro and the first poem.

 This is a poem I wrote after feeling disappointed. After all that
I have become I still miss something. The emptiness is vast. The
sadness a bit too much to endure. That was the thought. Well… I went in
an entirely different direction to tell my point. Haha enjoy.

 I will re-write this poem once I was able to cope up with my
feelings. I will also get to regular commenting this weekend. I am also
very busy with my work. Sorry for not much of commenting on your sites.

Reading Poems.

In my life many poems I have read,
Poems of nature filled with comfort,
Poems of patriotism filled with bravery,
Poems of humanity that spoke to my mind.

O’ the poems of courage I read,
That made me stand up to my fears,
Poems of beauty which inspired,
Another hundred lines of verse in mind.

The poems of truth and virtue I read,
Oh’ wonderful they were in holding my conscience.
The verses with imaginations filled,
Forever in dreams imprisoned my mind.

Poems of hope, betrayal, brotherhood,
Poems of regret, remembrance, renewal,
Verses that enchanted generations in prayers,
O they all with life in flight, consumed,
The humble life of mine to infinite patterns.

Then one day at a blank page looked,
Into that page I wrote a poem,
That spoke about all the poems of love I read,
A poem written looking at images in mind of a beauty unseen.

O’ that poem I wrote was about you,
The wonderful poem I loved always to read,
Those were all my words I read,
But all those words from my mind erased,
And pages burned in the flames of pain,
When you spoke another name instead of mine.

Tess Of The D’Urbervilles Phase The Fifth-The Woman Pays.

I just don’t know how to put it. Taking some words from this poem below, I will just say something.

 There is no anger in me, though there something that happenedwhich I can’t endure at this moment. In time I may come in terms withlife and probably will be able to endure it.

Here are the previous phases.

Tess Of TheD’Urbervilles. Phase The First–The  Maiden.

Tess Of TheD’Urbervilles-Phase The Second–Maiden NoMore

Tess Of TheD’Urbervilles-Phase The Third–The Rally.

Tess Of The D’Urbervilles Phase The Fourth–The Consequence.

The following poem is only half of the fifth phase. I broke this phaseinto two poems. The second part of this phase in which Tess goes into aplight to find work with the hopes and love is the most touching butthe most descrptive part of the novel. I have relied a lot on Hard’stext to write both poems. I will post the second part of the fifthphase sometime in the weekend.

TessOf The D’Urbervilles Phase The Fifth-TheWoman Pays.

In perfection silence performed the ballet,
After she finished her narrative,
Even the fire wood don’t crackle anymore,
Angel slowly stirred the fire,
Out of your mind are you? He asked Tess,
In a tone she never heard him speak,
The new-sprung child of nature he dreamt,
Now sitting at his foot for his mercy,
All the love that wrung up his heart in madness,
Among the rolls of candle smoke disappeared.

Tess on the floor, in tears, for forgiveness pleaded,
Though it was easy for her to forgive him,
All progressiveness abandoned Angel Clare,
He burst into to hellish laughter,
As declared he, that she is not the woman he loved,
But another woman in her shape.
Peasant by birth now peasant in words,
Tess could only repeat what Angel spoke,
At his legs again and again she pleaded,
And told him she’ll do anything he says,
Even if that is to lie down and die.
For which he told her to find harmony,
Between the present mood self-sacrifice,
And her past mood of self-preservation.

In Talbothays nothing stood between,
These two lovers in their love for each other,
Nothing in flesh and blood dared to question,
Such purest form of love they found,
Even Tess never thought that the character,
Of honesty can wipe away his love for her,
Leaving never ending streams of tears in her eyes.

Sarcastic remarks from Angel Clare,
And her pleading in her own distraction,
Saying things that would have better left to silence,
Her childish pleas went unheard,
Her justifications backfired,
Angel ended up calling her,
“The belated seedling of an effete aristocracy”.
To which she offered to end her life,
Leaving something to show her suicide,
For that he told her another mockery,
That he don’t want to add murder to his follies.

Tess went to bed alone, in grief.
Sadness, frustration and fear,
Consumed her into sleep,
In a chamber filled with the aromatic stillness,
A bride’s chamber once possibly,
Of her own useless ancestry.

Hellish were the days that followed,
Than anyone ever imagined,
Angel questioned her honesty in error,
Deep in his own conscience,
Where Tess had no advocate in defense,
And the gulf between them every hour widened.

How can we live together when that man lives?
Argued Angel Clare with convictions,
What if the future generations known,
About her past and what ill will come of it?
Angel questioned Tess.
Oh’ the same questions she should’ve asked,
But none came to that pure soul,
As every moment the rest of life she vowed,
To preserve the sanctity of their love.

What to do? What to do? To oneself, Angel asked.
Tess and Angel pushed through days,
Angel went to a nearby mill to learn,
The millers business for his future farm.
Tess engaged herself in kitchen work,
And in tears waited for Angel to return,
And he came back and saw her cook,
“You mustn’t work like this,
You are my wife not my servant” said he,
Indeed in name I am honored,
And don’t need anything more, said she,
What do you mean? Angel asked with no surprise,
Tess with all the strength and intelligence she can gather,
Told Angel holding her breath,
The respectability you looked for,
I didn’t have and told so long ago,
It is you who urged and urged,
Me to agree and she broke into sobs,
Any man but Angel Clare would’ve,
Had a melted heart in those sobs,
Like a vein of metal in a soft loam,
His logics deposited in his mind.

Tess lost her own cause,
When the matters of future generations came,
To Angel Clare’s view she agreed,
Oh’ what only hurts me now,
Will torture and kill me then, said she.
There were no more complaints,
And none were there to argue for their love,
Except on one occasion from Tess,
No advances from either to the other,
And for the one time for a kiss she wished,
Away he turned in unkindness,
The lips he once wished to kiss,
A kiss he always dreamt to fulfill,
Dissolved into thin air with the winter cold.

Irreconcilable became every word they said,
A future unbearable to think about,
Every bit of future he thought,
Filled with the purity of a virgin Tess,
Never he could imagine in a hoyden impure,
As every logic failed her in his mind.

In honesty Tess could not tell Angel to remain,
As his nightly somnambulistic raids,
Once took her to the nearby graveyard,
Which shook her beyond reason in belief,
For his own good and her safety,
That together they can’t stay.
O on that night in fate written,
When by strong influence,
Of some force disturbing,
Up to the chamber where Tess slept,
Angel Clare walked upstairs in his sleep.

Angel came near Tess and in sadness murmured,
‘Dead, dead, dead!’ “My poor Tess, my darling Tess,
So pure, so good and so true”.
Those words of affection in waking hours he withheld,
Filled her hungry heart and still like a doll she laid,
Waited to see what with her he was going to do.

“My wife, dead, dead!” said he,
As in a sheet Angle rolled Tess,
Like a dead body and out of the chamber carried,
Then for a moment he leaned with her against rails,
As if he was going to throw her downstairs,
But awake or asleep Tess’s confidence in him was deep,
She remained unmoved with a feeling of luxury,
Of Angel carrying her a second time in her life,
Than with any terror in her mind as she wished,
If they both could fall, how fit and how desirable.
But for her surprise he bended over and imprinted,
Upon her lips a kiss deep in her heart she felt.
Lips these days in daytime he scorned.

Angel in his sleepwalk, into the night carried Tess,
Towards the gushing river nearby,
Ah’ What Angel was dreaming Tess understood,
That old fateful Sunday morning when he carried,
All the dairymaids across the flooded roads,
The first time Angel touched Tess with affection,
Now though sleepwalking the same affection petrified her.

Though the bridge so narrow,
Angel in his sleepwalk still managed to cross,
Towards the old Abbey mill church,
Angel carried her to the graveyard,
Where in an old opened empty grave he laid,
Tess with utmost care and kissed her a second time,
Then laid down beside the grave into deep sleep.

The excitement in Tess drained away,
As the mild winter cold shivered,
Tess through light sheet Angel rolled her in,
Tess sat up in the coffin in thoughts,
And suddenly went to her husband,
And into his ear in a firm whisper said,
“Let us walk on darling” and his hand she took,
Like an obedient child Angel followed her,
And she took him back to the mansion,
Without much effort she laid Angel,
Upon his own sofa bed where he slept.

The next morning though Angel felt the weariness,
Nothing of the night Tess revealed,
As too much may be the feeling of embarrassment,
When in his unconscious what he did,
His common-sense disapproved,
And also the thought of a bit of pride,
Not to take advantage of an opening,
So narrow somewhere in his unconscious sleeps.

O’ that night though so bizarre,
The affections of Angel to Tess revealed,
Though only half an hour lasted,
Enough for a lifetime of memories.

Though Angle wanted not to initiate,
A separation between him and Tess,
Agreed he that it was better for them to part,
As alone he will be able to see things better,
And to Tess he promised that he will write,
Once his mind find a better shape of all he heard.

Angel to her one last time spoke,
Told her between them there was no anger,
Though there in his heart remain,
Something he cannot endure,
Which he will try to bring,
Himself to endure away from her.
He told her not to join him,
Until he will come and join her,
And write him she should,
Only in illness or in want.
Tess in pain only could repeat,
Some of his words in her acceptance,
And told him he best knows,
The punishment of her wrong,
But pleaded to him not to make,
The punishment more than she can bear,
And away they parted in to cold.

Angel at his departing wife looked,
As her carriage at the corner turned,
And said “God’s NOT in his heaven:
 all’s WRONG with the world!”.

Tess to her Marlott home went,
To the surprise of her mom,
Between the tearful sobs she told,
All that happened between her and Angel Clare.
Ever forgiving mother called her a fool,
For telling him her bygone past,
And they waited for Mr. Durbeyfield
The link between Tess and the D’Urberville chain.
Upstairs she went upon his arrival,
Joan told him about her return,
Anger and sadness filled his mind,
And in helplessness he asked his wife,
“D’ye think he really have married her?
-or is it like the first–“.
Slanderous doubts of her own dad,
Choked her inside her own home,
A few days she gave her there,
Until she got a note from Angel Clare,
Which as a precedence used, to join,
Her estranged husband sometime late,
And she once more bade farewell,
To her birthplace and all he loved.

Angel Clare back to the Vicarage went,
Where lie after lie he told,
To convince his mom and dad,
The spotless character of his darling wife.
Though many a time in his heart felt,
That he acted in haste and unkindness,
Still a strong dark cloud remained,
Covering reasons that can change his mind,
But his was not a heart with lead sealed,
As everything squeezed him in suffocation,
Far away to Brazil he decided to go,
And left the Vicarage with a heavy heart.

Angle to the old D’Urberville mansion went,
To settle rent and pick things left,
His heart pounded in the chamber Tess slept,
And the memory of the good times with her.
During his pleading of soliloquy,
There came in Izz Huett,
Another dairymaid at Talbothays,
She the one who loved him like Tess,
Who lost the run for his heart,
But now she came to see Angel and Tess,
On her way home from Talbothays,
That laid on the way to station Angel goes,
To her home a lift he offered,
And she went with him with thankfulness.
On the way he asked Izz Huett,
About the welfare of her and other dairymaids,
And he asked her will she go with him,
Leaving everything ever meant to her,
Against the will of law and morality,
Yes, in honesty she said,
Then he asked her if she still holds love for him,
Yes, again she said in her innocence,
Then Angel asked Izz, does she love him more than Tess,
For which “No” was the answer she said,
As none can love him more than Tess,
As Tess would’ve laid her life for him,
And she could do nothing more.
Her honest words in his ears echoed,
And in his heart and it spread to every vain.
The carriage to her home he turned,
And left her with his apologies.
Though on his way his heart again throbbed,
To go to Marlott and see Tess,
But still his dreams and hopes,
And convictions that tore him down,
Which all made him leave his wife,
Against which there were no defense,
Won another round of argument.
Five days after that day,
From London to his brothers he bade farewell,
Farewell to English lands and all he loved,
On his way to Brazilian lands.

(Continued…………)

Here is the text I followed. Tess Of The D’Urbervilles Phase The Fifth-The Woman Pays.

Hello, Mo Cuishle,

     I apologize for
the confusion in your mind because of the post I made in MySpace. Don’t worry,
the visa papers were submitted today, now it is all in the hands of the USCIS.
If that was what you were referencing in those posts.

   What bothered me to
go silent is something else. I truly wish someway I can make you understand
that. However now I realize that I have no experience from my past how to deal
with it. If I say anything more it will only confuse you more. Don’t worry. I
am will be fine.

  Thanks a lot for the
comments and it surprised me a bit when I saw the comments on a protected post.
I don’t know why you did that. So I am also going to keep this in a protected
post only you can see.

 

You are going to
take a great step of acting in a movie. From what you said it is a small role.
But it may be a small step for you, and I pray to the God I believe and to all the
saints to make that a giant leap for your life. It is a wild world but a
wonderful one. You take good care of yourself. 

Lovingly.

Riaz Ahammed.

Dream Of A Rose.

Thursday…. My day haha… I thought it will be a quiet day. I was
terribly disturbed by a death news of someone I only heard in that
death new. Marshall another xangan and friend of Sam posted the death
of one of his fellow students. The way he wrote that post was so
touching, I really felt sad for the girl who died. My heart goes for
this girl and my prayers too.
 Otherwise it was quite day. There were not a lot of things I
needed to do at work. We are all relaxing. I wonder how things are
going on with the implementation guys. They are working their ass out.
Anyway I believe nothing is going wrong with the applications we
promoted.
 Before I get to the poem. Congratulations Sam for the getting the Movie part.

Today I was browsing public domain pictures I can use to post along
with most of the poems here to LonelyPoet.Com. If anyone visited that
site one can see there is a picture along with the poem. I have a lot
of poems sitting here in Xanga which I hope by the end of the weekend I
will be able to move to LonelyPoet.Com. I found this picture and I love
it big time. Looking at this picture I wrote the poem. Enjoy.

Dream Of A Rose.

From the time as a pollen flown,
Across landscapes on the lap of the wind,
Deep inside kept a little dream,
To make a difference in the wilderness around.

Every day in warmth and comfort,
And many nights in the moonlight slept,
The dream lingered in darkness and light.
No fear came amid the lush surrounding greenery.

Then after one starlit night,
After watching the dance of the meteors,
The half moon in laziness still lingered,
And the stars with eyes wide open, unblinking.

Opened the first petal showing the color inside,
The beauty of a heart unseen,
In deep, the sweetness of love resides.

Before sun shown his first flash on east,
Moon once more blessed the flower,
Upon every petal with the glory of her glitter,
No soul awake to see that beauty blossom.

The warmth of the moonlight’s love,
Melted every bit of dew upon the flower,
That like the essence of love dripped,
Upon every leaf and buds beneath.

Nature in pride of her newborn laughed,
And welcomed the lord of the day,
Whose chariot rays dried,
Every drop of the melted dew.

Oh’ those wonders of nature seen,
Only in the minds eye of poets like me,
And felt from inside a lover’s heart,
Who give his love that beauty of nature,
With a kiss upon the flower, as symbol of love,
A flower’s dream carried all the way,
In fulfillment, became part of pure love.

Nature in the pride of fulfillment,
Once again fell asleep early,
To wake up early to see,
The fulfillment of another love.

The Haunting Past.

Another day died away. Aww, I love the way the day took me on a ride.
Psssst., I was running around like a mad dog to get things done. To
start with I walked right into a meeting. I hate coffee smell. In the
meeting everyone was drinking coffee. And I felt like a pregnant woman
with morning sickness. After that, Vera called me and told one of the
stamping in the passport is missing. Yeah, I screwed up with the
scanning and missed one page with an entry date. I drove back to the
hotel picked up the passport and rushed to the executive center Grrrr,
a bunch of jackasses were sitting there having a meeting. So scanning
was out of option. I thought I will fax it. Well the Fax line was not
working at my new company. Then I faxed it to my callwave fax number
and then emailed it to Vera. By this time it was 2:00PM. I went back to
office, a lot to do. As the negotiation with the new company should
start otherwise by the end of the week I won’t be having a job. Started
making phone calls. That was settled through phone. The new company
guys need to call tomorrow morning the middle layer of the client. Mmm
all settled.
 Now here comes someone saying he is bored and want to talk to me.
WOW bad idea, I started the talk at 3:30 and in three hours that guy
was like a crushed sugar cane. Hehehe. Me all active, only one problem.
I did not wrote anything.

Here is a poem I have posted in MySpace.Com last week. Don’t ask me why I wrote this.

The
Haunting Past.

The haunting past across my path walks,
In the mockery of my own life,
I buried all my flaws with cloak of more lies.

Do I deserve to be sad?
Do I deserver to be angry?
Oh, no, never could I answer,
In the pleads of mine, I believe I will be forgiven.

Oh’ you the one I love, my love for you is no flaw,
It is no dream I wish someday fulfilled,
The reality of my love unanswered pains,
Deep and from inside me burns.

The flame I kindled I wish to carry,
To see the unlit roads ahead,
But will you believe me and hold my hand?
Uncloak me with a word of care?
As the twisted roads ahead once more,
Take me through milestones of that haunting past.

Her After Death Pleasures.

Gloomy day, nothing much to do at work as the migration is going on. I was sitting there thinking of something to write.  Well nothing came. Vera called me for additional documents. Then there were couple of calls. My colleague asked me to change the style of a document one of my program is printing out and I did it in like ten minutes. By afternoon I was really tired of browsing internet. Then I took my writing pad and thought I will write whatever that comes into mind. After a while I know I am drawing junk flowers. That gave me an idea. I
wrote half of the following poem sitting at work. Then Vera called again and told to scan the documents and send it to her as soon as possible. I came back to room and scanned everything and emailed her. After that I finished the poem.

After a long time I wrote something without knowing what I should write ahead. So excuse me if some things don’t match up in the poem I did read it again but right now I am too much involved in it haha.

I love you all.

Her After Death Pleasures.

The sharpened pencil in fingers rolled,
A face and a figure in black and white outlined,
The hair and forehead, nose and eyes,
Glowing lips and the ornamented ears,
Her bosom with silk coat covered,
By this time her beauty consumed him.

Took another blank sheet and drawn,
That beauty in another pose, another costume,
He made her a queen; he made her an angel,
The wonderful looks never altered,
She, the outstretch of his beautiful imagination,
Carved away every other face from his mind.

To add the beauty, her portrait he colored,
But no beauty added as perfect was the outline,
Day and night he spent drawing more and more,
Every way that beauty found her life through him.

Then from the thin line between sanity and insanity,
He dragged himself away from a beauty non existent,
But with her filled was every cell in his body,
Those eyes, the forehead, lips, arms,
O’ his sleep was filled with her dreams,
His life with her beauty filled.

Throw her out of his mind he decided,
To find every reason through his art,
He drawn her ugly, and as a peasant,
Drawn her with men and with costumes unpleasant,
Drawn her in dirt and as Medusa,
Drawn her naked and as a prostitute,
In every possible way he tried his art,
To kill his passion for her in his heart,
But every painting spoke more than words,
As her eyes always filled with love,
And those glowing lips in thirst for a kiss.

Ran away from his home in fear and agony,
The world at his pathetic condition looked,
But he ran as fast as he can to go as far he can,
But on the way he thought “Who is she?”
He ran out of town and got into a train,
In his tiredness he fell asleep,
After the night he woke up in some place unknown,
Where he got out and walked to the nearby river,
Still he asked “Who is she, who is she?”
A walker nearby asked his welfare,
And to him, what happened he told,
He asked the painter again to draw,
The face of the enchantress he spoke,
On a piece of cloth he drawn her face,
And in horror the man dragged him away,
And took him to a nearby home,
Where to his surprise he saw the portrait of her,
The man told the painter, that the girl was his daughter,
A poet, painter and a wonderful singer she was,
But heart broken she jumped in the river,
And always dragged poets, painters and singers to the river,
To drown them for her naughty after death pleasure.

True Lovers, An Extinct Race.

I first woke up at 6:32AM I looked at the clock and said. “Shut the eff
up” Then I woke up at 7:45AM again I said the same. Then I woke up at
around 8:15AM at that time I realized that the clock is not making any
noise. Like a just launched missile I got up and ran into a race
against time. Implementation GRRR. Yeah today they start the
implementation of our work. I reached office at 10:00AM. Everything
cool, no one was looking for me. Haha. I sat on my chair got my water
bottle filled logged into the system and started browsing my .gov
emails. There were not a lot but one email is from an Indian woman. I
thought who is this. Well my bad memory, it was my attorney, with the
good news. I got the receipt of the re-application. I least expected it
today. That changed the whole attitude of mine to the day. I
immediately called the new company and told them to start the paper
work. Now it is all in the hands of Vera Kimmie, my friend and the
fiancé of my friend/boss. She is good and even at this moment I know
she is filling in the forms for me. I wonder what I will give her as
thankfulness.
 Before all that, what will I give to my Mo Cuishle for the
offering of every ounce of her luck to get this through. I owe you big
time.
This is not over, I am 90% through. I hope nothing will go wrong from
here on. I am now back at home. I did not eat much all day so I kinda
finished whatever I got, starting with brownies going through about a
pound of lamb, whew I ate a lot hehehe.

Here is a poem I wrote a little while ago. It is an expression of
frustration at people who thinks that they have an explanation for
everything. It is just my opinion. You can say your opinion about this
in the way you want. Kill my thought if that’s what you like to do
after reading this.

True Lovers, An
Extinct Race.

Turn around, turn around, O confused mind,
Confused in the call of love from within,
And the ugly truth that lives around as life.

No more the mind can tell oneself that love exists,
As somewhere lost are the dreams well weaved,
When the sanctity of thoughts in choices tarnished.

Which science guru can explain morality?
Who can explain character degeneration?
Why minds live sterile without love?

A hundred equations they may write,
Some may even fly rockets to space,
A hundred billion more stars they may discover,
But tell me what killed the love in minds?

And in the blink of an eye, life passed,
For all who loved and became loved.

Tess Of The D’Urbervilles Phase The Fourth–The Consequence.

There are people out there who believes I am here for the comment ofpeople. Hell with that. I don’t want anyone’s comment in here. Go away,if you don’t like my poems. One don’t have to comment here just becauseI comment on your site.
Ariel, spend exactly 4 seconds in my site and said, “I like your poem”through IM. When I asked about details, she was like “ I like portionsof what I read”. That was a lie. I wonder for what. I don’t like peoplelying to me unnecessarily. You all owe me nothing for my comments. Isthat clear for everyone? If you have questions contact me through IM. Iwill be online every evening no matter what.
 Mo Cuishle, I understand your apologies. You are the privilegedone. You can comment in this site whenever you want. She the one whooffered every ounce of her luck and I owe everything she wants. Even ifshe don’t comment I know she will never lie to me.

My apologies if I am sounding too  much pissed off. I am pissedoff. Ariel is a wonderful poet. I will always admire her as a wonderfulpoet.

Well here is the fourth installment of “Tess Of The D’Urbervilles”.With this phase I am taking the turn of the story. I still did not gotthe flow to write these poems. Here is my confession. I intended tomake two major changes in my poems from the story. But with the firstchange in the beginning, I got messed up personally and decided tochange that back to what it was in the book. That took me out of flowand even after months I just can’t get back to flow with this. Well Iam going to get it to you in the way I can for the time being. But Iwill re-write this.
 Now you all may be wondering what is the second change. Hahah,keep reading, the second change is inevitable, but for that I would nothave attempted this project at all.

The Consequence. The fourth phase, of the book where Tess goes throughthe big decision making process of marrying Angel Clare. I tried mybest to take only the character out of this phase as Thomas Hardy’sdescription is vast in explaining Tess’s mind. I relied a little toomuch on Hardy’s text and there are many phrases that I took directlyfrom Hardy’s text as those beautiful phrases in my opinion have nosubstitutes.

Here are the previous phases.

Tess Of TheD’Urbervilles. Phase The First–The  Maiden.

Tess Of TheD’Urbervilles-Phase The Second–Maiden NoMore

Tess Of The D’Urbervilles-Phase The Third–The Rally.

TessOf The D’Urbervilles Phase The Fourth–The Consequence.

Angel Clare in his conscience knew,
Tess is none to toy and dismiss with,
The whole world of Tess as Clare knew,
Upon this little milkmaid, depended,
A beauty at skin depth don’t stop,
A beauty built from within,
A character born from the soil,
A character lived in the fullness of life.
These in perfections and imperfections,
Angle Clare in the dairymaid Tess, loved.
Though the damage still so small,
Deep in his heart felt a guilt for his act,
Nobility for the noble in trouble times shows,
And to his kinsfolk for permission he went.

Angel presented his desire to be married,
And his parents resisted not as they knew,
His desire to marry Mercy Chant,
The neighbor’s daughter whom Angel liked a lot,
But to the surprise of all Angel told his plans,
To marry a girl who fits his farming life,
Though to none about his love he talked,
The perfect parenthoods of his parents he felt.
Who both silently gave the permission,
For Angel Clare to follow his judgment.

Heart filled with happiness,
Angel rode his way back to Talbothays,
Where everything was inside in the afternoon heat,
The humid air with odour of summer fruits,
Hays and flowers in the heat filled,
That seemed to make every animal, bird,
And even bees drowsy to rest in shade.

Angel walked in time of afternoon skimming,
Where he found Tess coming down up from her nap,
Her hair coiled up and her arm she stretched up,
Her face flushed with sleep,
Her eyelids over the pupils hung heavy,
The fullness of any woman, her spiritual self,
Seen in full upon Tess, Just out of her sleep.

Angel held her close to his heart,
And he felt her exited heart beat upon his,
When he told her he came back soon just for her.
Angel joined Tess in the afternoon skimming,
Where again he held her close to his own heart,
And with every courage and braveness of men,
The moment in every way dreaded and dreamt,
By every man in his entire life,
Angel Clare chose his moment to be that one,
Where he asked Tess for her hand in marriage,
Though her heart throbbed to say yes,
Love cannot blind the realities of her life,
The ancient family she belongs to,
The hated species of Angel Clare,
And her own past as a dark cloud loomed,
Over every word she said to Angel Clare,
Tess in the bitterness of pain told,
She cannot be the wife of him,
And bowed her head in grief,
She told though her love is only for him,
And rather be his than anybody’s in the world,
And told she cannot be his wife again and again,
The answer of no, any lover can’t take.

Though she said she was unworthy,
As a girl of the commons
In the eyes of the parents of Angel Clare,
Nothing of her past came from her mouth,
As Angel cared only a word of yes from her,
Every time Angel spoke to her in the weeks passed,
“No” is the word in her answers filled,
Left Angel in confusion.
For the reasons for him to understand,
Her bitter answer of no still echoed in his ears.

Love can bring in happiness,
And love can leave one in pain and tears,
Tess had gone through her happy days,
And now in bitterness of that love she felt,
Too pure was her love for Angel Clare,
For Tess to be the wife of him.
Thoughts of past and the family tree,
Haunted her to stubbornness,
Every time she told him she was unworthy,
And will cause him unhappiness.

Tearful days passed in utter confusion,
As her heart joined Angle Clare’s,
But her poor little conscience always knew,
A ‘Yes’ can’t be said to his request,
Though none she known at all,
May be predicting the calamities,
That may follow when truth reveals.
And she mourned the pain she gave her love,
And in her mind in penance wished,
Someone to tell him all about her,
All about her family, and her past,
All that happened forty miles away from there.

The feeling of love acts in a magical ways,
When it fills hearts and all reasons fades.
During a ride with Angel Clare,
A rainy evening under the tarp they both sat,
Riding to train station to deliver the milk,
Where first she told who she really was,
The one whom Angel did not danced,
At the Marlott meadows during the May Day dance.
Then on the way back she fulfilled her promise,
To tell the reasons for her answer of “no”,
Tess told him the truth of her ancestry,
To her surprise he was happy above all.
As he knew what that meant to his family,
The surprise and her childish thoughts,
Happiness and seeing the happiness of her love,
Tess could say nothing about her past.
But said yes to the marriage proposal.

Those Trantridge time gloomed her thoughts,
As she wanted to tell him every fault of her,
Wrote to her mother asking what to do,
Thought about the phrases with which to tell,
Angel about her mistress role at Trantridge farm,
But her mother told her to hold her peace,
And no language she knew had words good enough,
To tell him about her brutal experience,
Death of her virginity at the hands of her fake cousin,
Birth and death of Sorrow in the latter days.
Fear of losing him, fear about the fear she felt,
All added to the torment of her, day and night.

At last she gained courage and wrote to him,
The night before the wedding day,
Under the door her note she left,
And waited for his response in the early morn,
Angel like an Angel came and carried her,
In the happy day of his entire life,
The letter and the contents seemed not,
To bother this man filled with happy thoughts.
The wedding day was in full bloom at Talbothays,
But the wrong of the moment Tess did sensed,
And went to the room of Angel Clare,
Found the role fate again played to her,
As under the door mat she found,
The letter she wrote to him which he never seen.
All her strength like vapor faded,
As she can do no more but to fail her conscience,
Still she tried to confess her faults to him,
But stopped he with a promise to her,
That he will confess to her and hear her own,
After the wedding when they are at peace.

The wedding day went away,
The blessed day for every man and woman,
Tess had another day of enjoyment,
And she filled in every soul that saw,
Her moment of joy with her beauty and charm,
Too much of everything there was,
In the event so simple at the local church,
Every other emotion out showed by happiness,
And the whole nature in stillness waited,
As if waiting for a storm to pass.

Angel and Tess went to the nearby town,
To an old mansion of the D’Urbervilles,
Where at last at peace were their souls.
Angel first gave Tess, the family Jewels,
Then admiring the beauty of her,
Angel confessed the fault of him,
Of spending sometime with a London whore,
A fault with a hug and kiss by Tess forgiven,
Then she between the crackle of the burning woods,
A little louder than a whisper,
Tess narrated her life till that date,
Told her time with Alec D’Urberville,
Every detail of her days after,
The birth and death of her son in Marlott,
And the way she dealt with the pain of her.
The heaviness of her heart lightned,
But the eagerness of her conscience grew,
A fault not her own in her younger age,
A nightmare in her mind she carried,
All these years was for her, over.
Then in her heart filled in hopes,
In her eyes colors of her love glowed,
As she sat beside the legs of Angel Clare,
Admitting a flaw of her thrust upon her,
Forgiveness was a silent word that filled the air.

Love of men are like winter days,
A bit of cloud will gloom the light in it,
And the world will freeze in the cold of it.

Here is the text I followed. Tess Of The D’Urbervilles-Phase The Fourth The Consequence.

Song Of The Weaver Bird.

There were no panics in this Friday. It went well. I was busy at work
in the morning as the users came back and said they don’t want to see
any zeroes on the screen for dates and anything else. Just blanks. So I
needed to modify the programs to accommodate the changes. It was about
1:30PM when I was done. Then after lunch I thought I will write
something. I wrote wild, many things mmm nothing seems to be hitting me
at all. Then I thought what was it that I took as style to write poems.
I need a bird, a tree, countryside and a girl of my own. Haha, nice
recipe, the good old recipe, I think it worked. I wrote a poem spending
about 45 to 50 minutes.
 I am officially back in a calm. This week that went by was good.
Even though nothing special happened. Now what I hates most is waiting.
All my life I was waiting. For everything I want, I needed to wait.
That which I needed to today I will either get next month or I won’t
get it at all. The girl friends I had, stood me up most than any guy I
know. I am waiting to hear from USCIS about the visa issue. I am
waiting to hear from the new company about what they wanted me to do.
To end this post… I can just say, I waited and waited and waited to
hear. But I saw only blanks and heard silence which I fear most.

Enjoy the poem and you all have a wonderful weekend.

Song Of The Weaver
Bird.

The howling winter winds left without a trace,
The brightness of the day rejuvenated life back,
Men, women and machines back on the field,
The seeds sowed, the rains showered,
The once frozen land flourished in greenery.

Upon the tree the weaver sat restless,
Flying down like a missile once in a while,
Stealing one long dying leaf at a time,
She went up to weave the nest,
She grabbed left cotton balls,
Saps from the tree and saliva of her own
To weave the nest to withstand,
The spring and summer storms to come.

Deep in her heart she composed,
Tunes unheard until that day,
And she whistled her tunes embedded,
With meanings no poets could weave.
But there live a little poet in me who understood,
The meaning of the tune of the beautiful bird,
“Ah my beauty by the fruits could compare,
Sweet and soft upon your heart so rare,
Fields of vastness in richness no comparison,
To the love you bring to my day,
And I weaved for you this modest swing,
Upon which come, sit, sing in sway,
A song that speaks your love in mine,
A song that shows nature, love’s purity,
And forever I will hold your heart in sanctity.”

Oh’ I heard the song of the weaver day after day,
But never heard another voice other than her own.
The brutal material world took me away,
And in busy towns I whistled,
The heartfelt tune the weaverbird bird sung.

There were birds of many colors everywhere,
None whistled any tune back at me,
Then one day by the lake drive, I sat,
And my own tune I felt, I whistled,
To my wonder, I heard an echo of my tune,
Turning back those beautiful eyes I saw,
First at each other in silence we looked,
Then we let our hearts speak to each other,
In the days followed she took my heart,
With a promise to keep it forever.

The summer warmth into the heavy air faded,
The colors of the nature changed,
To my country home, with my darling I drove,
With a promise to show the weaver’s nest.

The harvest was done and the land looked bare,
There was silence everywhere and nothing moved,
I looked at the nest that looked empty,
Then to have a look the tree I climbed,
The nest looked dry and the weaver seemed left,
For warmer air with her beautiful tunes,
The nest held tight to the dying branch,
I pulled out the nest even in the protest of my girl,
As I wanted to show her, what I found,
Three empty eggshells inside the well weaved nest,
Holding the nest my love looked at me and smiled,
And took my hands and dragged me away,
Whistling a tune a long time back I heard,
That woke up every dying leaf around,
As we walked away back at the tree I looked,
And saw the weaver’s swing swaying up and down.
 

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