On this day :
1933 FDR inaugurated, 1776 American forces occupy Dorchester Heights, 1936 Scottish racing legend Jim Clark born, 1861 Lincoln inaugurated, 1954 Dulles asks for action against communism, 1944 The head of Murder Inc is executed, 2005 Martha Stewart is released from prison, 1962 DC7 crashes in Cameroon swamp, 1789 Government under the US Constitution begins, 1995 John Candy dies, 1952 Ernest Hemingway finishes The Old Man and the Sea, 1965 Kite Runner author Khaled Hosseini is born, 1966 John Lennon sparks his first major controversy, 1868 Founder of Chisholm Trail dies, 1829 Jackson holds open house at the White House, 1952 Ronald Reagan and Nancy Davis marry, 1888 Knute Rockne born, 1968 Task Force sends memo to the president, 1913 Woodrow Wilsons first inaugural address, 1941 Britain launches Operation Claymore, 1944 Eighth Air Force bombs Berlin,

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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