On this day :
1779 John Adams appointed to negotiate peace terms with British, 1779 John Jay is appointed minister to Spain, 1967 My Mother The Car exported to France, 1864 Confederate guerillas sack Centralia Missouri, 1959 Khrushchev ends trip to the United States, 1989 Zsa Zsa Gabor storms out of the courtroom, 1854 Ships collide off Newfoundland, 1540 Jesuit order established, 1960 Sylvia Pankhurst dies, 1991 Reeves and Phoenix star in My Own Private Idaho, 1996 F Scott Fitzgerald stamp is issued, 1999 Placido Domingo breaks Carusos openingnight record at the Metropolitan Opera, 1869 Sheriff Wild Bill Hickok proves too wild for Kansas, 1938 Franklin Roosevelt appeals to Hitler for peace, 1930 Bobby Jones wins US Amateur title, 1967 Antiwar sentiment increases, 1969 Thieu comments on Nixons Vietnamization policy, 1915 John Kipling killed at the Battle of Loos, 1939 Poland surrenders, 1940 The Tripartite Pact is signed by Germany Italy and Japan,

Poems

Unrequited

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All unfeigned relationships,

Commence, in celestial efflorescence.

But, passion unreciprocated-

Is like an exanimate corpse,

(vehemently 'lifeless' 'cause there are throbbing dead bodies in the present world!)

A fish out of water,

A sky without Sun,

A night without stars,

An orphan with no fortune.

 

All relations, mightn't be deemed towards eternity,

But only some, on echt, veritable grounds-

Jaunt towards eonian fraternity.

 

Friendship-typically reckoned-

To be the adept beginning,

Is proved by the modern-world,

To take the helm of counterfeit.

 

"No offense", best allies-

Germinated, life mates,

This isn't the Victorian era prolonged,

A long lost Shakespearean whim,

Nevertheless fancies a few, apiece,

Persistent remnants of the currently debarred-

"Golden Age".

 

Somewhere, we all have read,

"Love is a hollow sham. Life's a farce!"

That's almost nigh today,

When mostly heartless automatons-

Commune, indigent and insolvent,

In emotions. Mostly, the debated counterparts-

Are allies,

Who eruditely know each other,

Who bask a sapid walk together,

Who confide, and entrust-

Their inscrutable mysteries, to each other,

And, colossally more to go on,

Towards making the perfect match.

 

But still, one's proffer to other,

Is an effete disposition.

The other will indisputably twitch-

The unsought, abominable nerve,

Assaying to accentuate the better one's-

Impuissant frailties, and to bash it-

With all vigour.

 

Then follows,

The debouched,

Cold-blooded, jubilation-

Of the one who inflicted anguish-

Over the inauspicious one who still-

Haven't subdued his inner conflicts,

Grounded on the savage, flimflam sting,

Of petty coquetry, or the hollow, vacuous,

Sham of unrequited love.

 

Guys, to plunge yourself in-

Irrecoverable grief,

Might match an epic ballad's restating.

But, 21st century Rhapsodies,

Should be based on protagonists,

Who easily convalesce,

Wiping off ineffective dust from his torso,

Who care no more for lost sands,

Cause a lustrous horizon of Life,

Lies Ahead,

And 'cause'Robert Frost' had written invaluable verse,

For generations to emulate.

 

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