A Passing at the Lake
He passed me by the lake
heads down, cap tipped low
a robust man who loved
his food and beverages
there was lightning in the sky
no brightness in that day
it was a perfect miserable afternoon
a nippy day, with strong wind
the robust man walked into the shallows
and never stopped, he just moved on
to the deepest and disappeared
a few bubbles and all was calm again
standing there rooted in great dismay
I watched this passing by the lake
Until I remember a call I had to make
They never found him to this day.
heads down, cap tipped low
a robust man who loved
his food and beverages
there was lightning in the sky
no brightness in that day
it was a perfect miserable afternoon
a nippy day, with strong wind
the robust man walked into the shallows
and never stopped, he just moved on
to the deepest and disappeared
a few bubbles and all was calm again
standing there rooted in great dismay
I watched this passing by the lake
Until I remember a call I had to make
They never found him to this day.
Published 16th May 2014 9:15am
- Last modified 20th May 2014 9:14am
A passing experience
Touches the wind
like gossamer fingers
My cheeks it caresses
like an ardent lover
Gently rumples my hair
Spreading it over my face
Like a naughty friend
The rain kisses my cheeks
I taste the salt of my sweat
Wet hair embracing my skull
Water going into my eyes
My eyes feel the sting of salt
Tears flows, unbidden
Mixed with the falling rain
Running towards shelter
Feet pounding the sand
I hear the soughing of the wind
Over the treetops
The crash of thunder
The bolts of lightning
The storm has come full blast
I feel the crackling of ozone
And fear within
But gentle arms embraced me
and you are there, my comfort
My beloved.
How I love you
I feel safe again.
like gossamer fingers
My cheeks it caresses
like an ardent lover
Gently rumples my hair
Spreading it over my face
Like a naughty friend
The rain kisses my cheeks
I taste the salt of my sweat
Wet hair embracing my skull
Water going into my eyes
My eyes feel the sting of salt
Tears flows, unbidden
Mixed with the falling rain
Running towards shelter
Feet pounding the sand
I hear the soughing of the wind
Over the treetops
The crash of thunder
The bolts of lightning
The storm has come full blast
I feel the crackling of ozone
And fear within
But gentle arms embraced me
and you are there, my comfort
My beloved.
How I love you
I feel safe again.
Published 28th June 2012 8:31am
A Poet's Beat
Poet...
recite recite at the corner recite
tell your heart with all your might
whispered words can't reach the heart
where wrong is right to write the thoughts
Watch...
verses scratched on flower petals soft
lost, blown by blustery uncaring winds
expressed soft as feathers from birds that fall
floating to earth and travel in routed air
Listen...
if hearts do beat and pen do write
from where sourced the song that's wrung
are they from uncertain muses' lungs
strained in hope to bear the notes
Touch...
feel the scars of burnt and cuts
on history walls within expressed tales
they sing and hum scream in agony
the scripts of poets for perfection seek
Understand
the word and world are seen as one
they live pirouetting animated ballerina
achieving perfection in hopeful visions
creating beautiful flows with exquisite pain.
recite recite at the corner recite
tell your heart with all your might
whispered words can't reach the heart
where wrong is right to write the thoughts
Watch...
verses scratched on flower petals soft
lost, blown by blustery uncaring winds
expressed soft as feathers from birds that fall
floating to earth and travel in routed air
Listen...
if hearts do beat and pen do write
from where sourced the song that's wrung
are they from uncertain muses' lungs
strained in hope to bear the notes
Touch...
feel the scars of burnt and cuts
on history walls within expressed tales
they sing and hum scream in agony
the scripts of poets for perfection seek
Understand
the word and world are seen as one
they live pirouetting animated ballerina
achieving perfection in hopeful visions
creating beautiful flows with exquisite pain.
Published 12th November 2015 10:57pm
- Last modified 12th November 2015 10:59pm
A Presence Denied
a token, a falling leaf
a silent whisper, a blink
a presence felt
poignant caress of a kiss
lingering on circles
well known, well beloved
as stalks of wilted
roses, once brilliant
a sigh a slow low moan
a touch in the night
a yearning sound
like fluttering falling leaves
he heard her
around him
a coldness yearning
for his warmth
he denied her
intangible being
a shadow lost
a past love
tears falling
into the half filled bucket
drip, drip an eternal echo
haunting forever.
a silent whisper, a blink
a presence felt
poignant caress of a kiss
lingering on circles
well known, well beloved
as stalks of wilted
roses, once brilliant
a sigh a slow low moan
a touch in the night
a yearning sound
like fluttering falling leaves
he heard her
around him
a coldness yearning
for his warmth
he denied her
intangible being
a shadow lost
a past love
tears falling
into the half filled bucket
drip, drip an eternal echo
haunting forever.
Published 27th June 2014 11:03am
A Pretty Cloudy Sky
A cloudy sky today, sunrays peeking softly
between gaps, looking a little shy
they wait for the clouds to go away
that they again may shine through
clouded are our path in life
at times uncertain are our steps
walking through light or darkness
hampered by sorrow, pain and grief
there are butterflies fluttering by
with rainbow coloured dragonfly
perhaps to sample nodding blooms
in the forest’s secret meadows
Sorrowful soul departing sadly see
these beauty of nature once unnoticed
Now he woefully prepares his spirit travel
To where he was before his birth
the autumn leaves in colourful cascades
path the road with vibrant hues
birds a-twitter among the trees
surf and swoop with falling leaves
The spark in his eyes now all gone
Pale the face all dressed for ground
His soul free to flee to nether lands
leaving behind dirges and sad refrains
It’s a cloudy day today, it drizzles
The plants all bushy with flowers
They do seem to nod in happy bliss
At the garden of our little graveyard.
between gaps, looking a little shy
they wait for the clouds to go away
that they again may shine through
clouded are our path in life
at times uncertain are our steps
walking through light or darkness
hampered by sorrow, pain and grief
there are butterflies fluttering by
with rainbow coloured dragonfly
perhaps to sample nodding blooms
in the forest’s secret meadows
Sorrowful soul departing sadly see
these beauty of nature once unnoticed
Now he woefully prepares his spirit travel
To where he was before his birth
the autumn leaves in colourful cascades
path the road with vibrant hues
birds a-twitter among the trees
surf and swoop with falling leaves
The spark in his eyes now all gone
Pale the face all dressed for ground
His soul free to flee to nether lands
leaving behind dirges and sad refrains
It’s a cloudy day today, it drizzles
The plants all bushy with flowers
They do seem to nod in happy bliss
At the garden of our little graveyard.
Published 22nd January 2014 9:05am
A quest
Open plains of my imaginings'
or is it a racial memory?
visions of the age of before
a grey tunnel, life time of cycles
in a world of swirling cosmic dust
there I seek you my soul-mate
Gone but not forgotten
to another world, another time
where dreams may come
and promises, old, be honoured
by lips on lips, whispers of the ancient
in old vines of conception
How did I miss you, my love
In this cycle of existence
when before I held your hands
and pledged this very life and existence
how did the parting happen, indeed
for memories deep are ever
present, pages of them, no, stacks
of books on the walls of time
too many existence in one soul
Was it the lance of Ashoka's men
A sword from Atilla's army
Or a field in Maryland?
Oh yes and the parting, pain
exquisite, accused of a witch
I feel the drowning still
The angry hurt humiliation
Of being flogged by the switch
To be stoned and killed
o so painfully, so slowly
Dragged along a gravelly street
My many doors to death
while I quest for you
A wily spirit on the move
Smiling from the mind's eaves
I forget, o yes, I forget
the faces of the mothers
the fathers nor even my siblings
Only you I remember well
Smiling eyes, laughter,
the wedding chants
the pootu on my fore head
the bangles on my wrists
The clanging of church bells
the horse drawn cart...
you and I, laughing
joined by the falling snow
The wedding, the wedding
The beautiful wedding
The cotton in the fields
Your handsome wine-coloured
face, looking at me
Full of love, of need
We want to be free
But not from love's slavery
Under the tree I said I do
and you kissed me
I held you so hard
that you laughed in glee
I live for the delight
of your existence my Love
My friend, my beloved soul-mate
On this threshold of creation
A special birth I await
To be born at a time of death
to awake from sweet oblivion,
Swift prayers, accompany your return
Offer me peace and linger, my beloved
Grant me your love again
Hold these hands, mine for now
For the circle's cycle never ends
On this, the terrain of my mind
I sit and wait, eyes black, grey to blue
Words in babbles, unconcerned
Medium of communications
uncared for, why should I
when love is lost in the circle of time
where Jamuna flows in between
Or maybe Styx, who knows
Need I scream at the Valkyrie
Who carried you away to the darkers halls
of Valhalla
Or should I mourn against Hades?
I care not, my love
I spit at the spirits
that take you away before
I can touch and hold you
I rant against the gods
who suffer the children
to come unto them and then laugh
with derision at human pain
I stand here alone
and wait your return
a thousand births
a thousand deaths
I wait
Written by Grace (Idryad)
Published 17th December 2011 8:22am
or is it a racial memory?
visions of the age of before
a grey tunnel, life time of cycles
in a world of swirling cosmic dust
there I seek you my soul-mate
Gone but not forgotten
to another world, another time
where dreams may come
and promises, old, be honoured
by lips on lips, whispers of the ancient
in old vines of conception
How did I miss you, my love
In this cycle of existence
when before I held your hands
and pledged this very life and existence
how did the parting happen, indeed
for memories deep are ever
present, pages of them, no, stacks
of books on the walls of time
too many existence in one soul
Was it the lance of Ashoka's men
A sword from Atilla's army
Or a field in Maryland?
Oh yes and the parting, pain
exquisite, accused of a witch
I feel the drowning still
The angry hurt humiliation
Of being flogged by the switch
To be stoned and killed
o so painfully, so slowly
Dragged along a gravelly street
My many doors to death
while I quest for you
A wily spirit on the move
Smiling from the mind's eaves
I forget, o yes, I forget
the faces of the mothers
the fathers nor even my siblings
Only you I remember well
Smiling eyes, laughter,
the wedding chants
the pootu on my fore head
the bangles on my wrists
The clanging of church bells
the horse drawn cart...
you and I, laughing
joined by the falling snow
The wedding, the wedding
The beautiful wedding
The cotton in the fields
Your handsome wine-coloured
face, looking at me
Full of love, of need
We want to be free
But not from love's slavery
Under the tree I said I do
and you kissed me
I held you so hard
that you laughed in glee
I live for the delight
of your existence my Love
My friend, my beloved soul-mate
On this threshold of creation
A special birth I await
To be born at a time of death
to awake from sweet oblivion,
Swift prayers, accompany your return
Offer me peace and linger, my beloved
Grant me your love again
Hold these hands, mine for now
For the circle's cycle never ends
On this, the terrain of my mind
I sit and wait, eyes black, grey to blue
Words in babbles, unconcerned
Medium of communications
uncared for, why should I
when love is lost in the circle of time
where Jamuna flows in between
Or maybe Styx, who knows
Need I scream at the Valkyrie
Who carried you away to the darkers halls
of Valhalla
Or should I mourn against Hades?
I care not, my love
I spit at the spirits
that take you away before
I can touch and hold you
I rant against the gods
who suffer the children
to come unto them and then laugh
with derision at human pain
I stand here alone
and wait your return
a thousand births
a thousand deaths
I wait
Written by Grace (Idryad)
Published 17th December 2011 8:22am
A quest futile
Dark grey skies on world-end realms
traverse this maiden on a dark quest
Fairness goes into sombre terrain
to look and seek the one she loves
Up on their brooms the witches stream,
Watching the lone figure down below
crooked and black in the crescent's gleam,
of the silvery orb they call the moon
Silver lights of magic and doom
flay the maiden in her bloom
Cutting short her troubled life
On a quest no more
and away they swarm 'neath the dragon's feet
Cackling in glee as they return
to the sad imprisoned prince
traverse this maiden on a dark quest
Fairness goes into sombre terrain
to look and seek the one she loves
Up on their brooms the witches stream,
Watching the lone figure down below
crooked and black in the crescent's gleam,
of the silvery orb they call the moon
Silver lights of magic and doom
flay the maiden in her bloom
Cutting short her troubled life
On a quest no more
and away they swarm 'neath the dragon's feet
Cackling in glee as they return
to the sad imprisoned prince
Published 6th January 2012 6:36am
A Quiet Sunday Afternoon
buzz, busy bee, buzz
on petals of sunflowers
nodding languidly
at passing breeze
a waving leaf
a curious fly
resting, washing hands
buzzy bee passes by
a long march of ants
passing by sandy path
carrying food on their heads
to underground homes
buzz bee buzz
flying flies
marching ants
in the distance
a dog barks.
nodding languidly
at passing breeze
a waving leaf
a curious fly
resting, washing hands
buzzy bee passes by
a long march of ants
passing by sandy path
carrying food on their heads
to underground homes
buzz bee buzz
flying flies
marching ants
in the distance
a dog barks.
Published 16th February 2014 10:37am
- Last modified 16th February 2014 10:39am
A ravishing beauty
Ravishing beauty she is
My brother’s love
Eyes of deep brown
Lips of blush corals
Hair of ebony
Voice like whispers
Of rain on bamboo groves
Aphrodite personified….
A girl seen through
the eyes of love
To me just a curvaceous girl
With no dandruff.
My brother’s love
Eyes of deep brown
Lips of blush corals
Hair of ebony
Voice like whispers
Of rain on bamboo groves
Aphrodite personified….
A girl seen through
the eyes of love
To me just a curvaceous girl
With no dandruff.
Published 13th August 2013 8:31am
A Reckoning
Love of life, of gains for coffers
swell his worth his name on papers
tipped hat becomes his culture
knees bend to his stacks of dollars
Be by me, his swagger says
his eyes hard, with soft moist lips
for everything he has, money can buy
be it Loving arms or sparkling eyes
His eyes are lit with lovely lights
his lips they smile with pretty lies
passion in his loins are all for coins
sparkling golden in his underpants
A cold, calm day he tastes the kiss
of death’s cold bloodless lips
his love for men and women both
has paid him true, paid him in full
upon his knee, his tears roll down
his slowly sinking cheeks
no more glow from enchanting eyes
or threats of hurts should he be crossed
bodies young and warm no longer befriend
his frame so narrow, face so gaunt
In his arms no heart will be aflame
As death slowly circles his narrow bed
When at last his body is claimed
his soul breaking out, asunder
he sinks to other dreams that may come
as pale stars twinkle wanly above
A busy bee flies by
as he is lowered to the ground
no one there, on a lazy afternoon
as the gravedigger fill the grave.
swell his worth his name on papers
tipped hat becomes his culture
knees bend to his stacks of dollars
Be by me, his swagger says
his eyes hard, with soft moist lips
for everything he has, money can buy
be it Loving arms or sparkling eyes
His eyes are lit with lovely lights
his lips they smile with pretty lies
passion in his loins are all for coins
sparkling golden in his underpants
A cold, calm day he tastes the kiss
of death’s cold bloodless lips
his love for men and women both
has paid him true, paid him in full
upon his knee, his tears roll down
his slowly sinking cheeks
no more glow from enchanting eyes
or threats of hurts should he be crossed
bodies young and warm no longer befriend
his frame so narrow, face so gaunt
In his arms no heart will be aflame
As death slowly circles his narrow bed
When at last his body is claimed
his soul breaking out, asunder
he sinks to other dreams that may come
as pale stars twinkle wanly above
A busy bee flies by
as he is lowered to the ground
no one there, on a lazy afternoon
as the gravedigger fill the grave.
Published 22nd January 2014 7:18pm
A Series of Don't
Don't feed the tiger
by the wayside
you might taste better
than your offerings
Don't tempt the Lion
with a human steak
the next on the menu
may yet be able to squeak
Don't tempt death
by looking at the streets below
you might be pushed gently
by the wind, and go splats
Don't steal flowers on urns
empty at the graveside
it may soon be your turn
to eternally admire the blooms
Don't turn the other cheek
when someone slaps you
the next one may be a punch
that slays you outright
don't chase the ambulance
as it goes screaming into the night
the next one riding in it
could well be you.
Don't do a lot of don'ts
it spoils your complexion
and irritates undertakers
with the challenges.
by the wayside
you might taste better
than your offerings
Don't tempt the Lion
with a human steak
the next on the menu
may yet be able to squeak
Don't tempt death
by looking at the streets below
you might be pushed gently
by the wind, and go splats
Don't steal flowers on urns
empty at the graveside
it may soon be your turn
to eternally admire the blooms
Don't turn the other cheek
when someone slaps you
the next one may be a punch
that slays you outright
don't chase the ambulance
as it goes screaming into the night
the next one riding in it
could well be you.
Don't do a lot of don'ts
it spoils your complexion
and irritates undertakers
with the challenges.
Written by Grace (Idryad)
Published 28th October 2013 5:33pm
A Sinner's Plea
Sing me a lullaby to make me sleep
A song that makes me sink so deep
Into the land that deep dark realm
where sinners and innocents dream
The soothing song that induces slumber
will make me forget my waking blunder
of sinning against my fellow man
To claim, to need what is not mine
The sins abound in my darkened soul
I lied, I killed, I plunder, I stole
Every single things that I could reach
as long as they made me filthy rich
So now this final lullaby
sing it right and sing it high
Hold that knife strong and hard
and plunge it into my evil heart.
A song that makes me sink so deep
Into the land that deep dark realm
where sinners and innocents dream
The soothing song that induces slumber
will make me forget my waking blunder
of sinning against my fellow man
To claim, to need what is not mine
The sins abound in my darkened soul
I lied, I killed, I plunder, I stole
Every single things that I could reach
as long as they made me filthy rich
So now this final lullaby
sing it right and sing it high
Hold that knife strong and hard
and plunge it into my evil heart.
Published 12th February 2013 11:05pm
A Slow Walk to Eden
what wrongs committed
what insults added
what salt rubbed
what life taken
they come back
and demand payment
with interest...
he said it was just like purple rain
raiment of kings
beckoning....do it
I didn't mean for it to happen
purple rain, who cares
when the pain's done
the cause doesn't matter
the pain's all that is
pray and atone for your sins
says the doomsayer
but when a man's gone
what's the use
are you ready
will you be there....
will you beg for a minute more
to inhale and exhale
poison the world a little bit more
with your incoherent rants
you can say Heavens can wait
but its only a brief head turn
and are you sure
you are not headed the other way...
so grab your sickle
reap what you sowed
grown wild in the furrows
its the coming of the white
the fast train is coming
conductors going to punch
your ticket
They don't take credit cards.
what insults added
what salt rubbed
what life taken
they come back
and demand payment
with interest...
he said it was just like purple rain
raiment of kings
beckoning....do it
I didn't mean for it to happen
purple rain, who cares
when the pain's done
the cause doesn't matter
the pain's all that is
pray and atone for your sins
says the doomsayer
but when a man's gone
what's the use
are you ready
will you be there....
will you beg for a minute more
to inhale and exhale
poison the world a little bit more
with your incoherent rants
you can say Heavens can wait
but its only a brief head turn
and are you sure
you are not headed the other way...
so grab your sickle
reap what you sowed
grown wild in the furrows
its the coming of the white
the fast train is coming
conductors going to punch
your ticket
They don't take credit cards.
Published 9th September 2015 9:11am
A Tale from a Twilight Past
Grasping shadows in darkness walk
Skulking under canopies of despair
Buzz of repulsion and utmost terror
Fair was fleeing the night in distress
Within swirling mists of screaming harpies
Skies blackened on world-end realms
A Soul traverse in a dark quest
To bring Fair to the perfect light
Against the shrieking winds
Drag him the fearful heart
Fair went forth into sombre terrain
Hearing not seeing the shrieks
of love sent by shields of fire
unto the darkness, gloom she fed
with her fear and sorrow gleaned
Up above the darkening stream,
A lone figure looked down
Fair felt the crescent's gleam,
The robed scythe-man
In thunderclap, proclaimed his coming
Beneath the dragon's feet
Her redeemer spread his wings
Span the sky with whiteness
Flashed his mighty sword
Crackling fire, screams and silence
Bards song of long past
Celebrated the wooing of Fair
By the angel from up high
and one from the darkness below
Both came for the love of her
Fair stood clear on the Garden
Of one who loves her truly.
Skulking under canopies of despair
Buzz of repulsion and utmost terror
Fair was fleeing the night in distress
Within swirling mists of screaming harpies
Skies blackened on world-end realms
A Soul traverse in a dark quest
To bring Fair to the perfect light
Against the shrieking winds
Drag him the fearful heart
Fair went forth into sombre terrain
Hearing not seeing the shrieks
of love sent by shields of fire
unto the darkness, gloom she fed
with her fear and sorrow gleaned
Up above the darkening stream,
A lone figure looked down
Fair felt the crescent's gleam,
The robed scythe-man
In thunderclap, proclaimed his coming
Beneath the dragon's feet
Her redeemer spread his wings
Span the sky with whiteness
Flashed his mighty sword
Crackling fire, screams and silence
Bards song of long past
Celebrated the wooing of Fair
By the angel from up high
and one from the darkness below
Both came for the love of her
Fair stood clear on the Garden
Of one who loves her truly.
Published 4th July 2013 10:02pm
A Tear Drop or a Cascade
Water, those that fall with sounds
of pearls falling on ceramics
or a resounding ping
on empty tin sink
they are like tear drops
of a mourning widow
falling off the canopy
of wide green leaves
they like little tailed jelly fish
fall to the grass below
and sink to the earth
with soft sighing splashes
I with my love dance with misery
feel them course down wrinkled cheeks
thinking of lost opportunities and loves
and those that repose under the ground
allowing the rivulets of tears
to ease the pain of old regrets
they are the same rain water and tears
falling liquid crystals
with purpose of their own.
*this poem was entered in a competition here. thank you for reading*
Published 20th November 2015 6:40pm
A Tender Night
The night was clear, the stars shone above. The balmy day had turned into a beautiful evening. The wind soughed softly over the treetops. Sitting on my balcony I looked out, feeling peace in my heart. I felt this to be wonderful as I have not felt like that since my mother died six months ago.
I have always felt that I did not do too well with my mother, as I seldom visited her due to some falling out a long time ago. It was stupid, but as a teenager I was never one to say ‘Yes Mom’ and be done with that. It was always ‘Yes Mom’ and do something else.
When she died, I was the strong one. I never shed a tear, while my other siblings sobbed and cried into their handkerchiefs. Even the boys. I felt that if I joined in the show of grief, no one would take care of the funeral. So I did not, and I arranged it perfectly. The prayers and rites were however arranged nicely by my eldest sister.
Anyway, on that balcony six months later, my mother was the furthest on my mind. I was just thinking about some books I have read. I laid down on my bed stationed strategically near the windows and looked out into the blue sky.
I stared into it the longest time, and to my surprise, the bluish-dark sky turned green and then yellow and then coral pink. I was shocked but kept on laying on the couch, helpless.
The sky turned totally dark as if there was nothing there and then from the distance I heard dirges; voices lamenting and crying as if their hearts were breaking.
Then I saw falling dead leaves from above, all brown and red and yellow. They fell around me, like cascades of confetti. I was still powerless to move and could only look around.
The cries of sorrow turned into low chants of some ancient liturgies, interweaving into the soughing wind which never let up since. The results were a low hum with keening sounds.
I listened to the sounds with fascination and avid interest as I have always been interested in ancient rites and language, especially of my people.
And then I heard a voice, soft and gentle, yet speaking as if it was from everywhere.
“Bless the sad and sorrowing hearts, bless them who strew the rose petals, bless them that tend the garden where none lives, and bless them that tend to blooms in the darkest dark.”
I laid there with my mouth open, amazed at the quality of the voice. The ethereal voice did not speak a language that I know, but I understood it perfectly. And then came a rustle of wings, so strong and loud that it I was shocked into sitting up. I felt a strong breeze against my face and then all died down.
There was an absolute silence. It was as if I was deaf. And then in the distance, I heard a lone car passed. I scrambled up and looked around me and at the floor. There was nothing there, no leaves, no petals…nothing.
I sat down, and suddenly my tears fell in cascades. It was good clean tears, not accompanied by wrenching sobs of sorrow and grief, but with such gentleness. I shed my tears of grief at last. Thanks to the visitation of angels, for I believe that they were indeed angels.
I have always felt that I did not do too well with my mother, as I seldom visited her due to some falling out a long time ago. It was stupid, but as a teenager I was never one to say ‘Yes Mom’ and be done with that. It was always ‘Yes Mom’ and do something else.
When she died, I was the strong one. I never shed a tear, while my other siblings sobbed and cried into their handkerchiefs. Even the boys. I felt that if I joined in the show of grief, no one would take care of the funeral. So I did not, and I arranged it perfectly. The prayers and rites were however arranged nicely by my eldest sister.
Anyway, on that balcony six months later, my mother was the furthest on my mind. I was just thinking about some books I have read. I laid down on my bed stationed strategically near the windows and looked out into the blue sky.
I stared into it the longest time, and to my surprise, the bluish-dark sky turned green and then yellow and then coral pink. I was shocked but kept on laying on the couch, helpless.
The sky turned totally dark as if there was nothing there and then from the distance I heard dirges; voices lamenting and crying as if their hearts were breaking.
Then I saw falling dead leaves from above, all brown and red and yellow. They fell around me, like cascades of confetti. I was still powerless to move and could only look around.
The cries of sorrow turned into low chants of some ancient liturgies, interweaving into the soughing wind which never let up since. The results were a low hum with keening sounds.
I listened to the sounds with fascination and avid interest as I have always been interested in ancient rites and language, especially of my people.
And then I heard a voice, soft and gentle, yet speaking as if it was from everywhere.
“Bless the sad and sorrowing hearts, bless them who strew the rose petals, bless them that tend the garden where none lives, and bless them that tend to blooms in the darkest dark.”
I laid there with my mouth open, amazed at the quality of the voice. The ethereal voice did not speak a language that I know, but I understood it perfectly. And then came a rustle of wings, so strong and loud that it I was shocked into sitting up. I felt a strong breeze against my face and then all died down.
There was an absolute silence. It was as if I was deaf. And then in the distance, I heard a lone car passed. I scrambled up and looked around me and at the floor. There was nothing there, no leaves, no petals…nothing.
I sat down, and suddenly my tears fell in cascades. It was good clean tears, not accompanied by wrenching sobs of sorrow and grief, but with such gentleness. I shed my tears of grief at last. Thanks to the visitation of angels, for I believe that they were indeed angels.
Published 18th July 2013 12:37pm
A Time to Harvest
Willing hands on harvest go
Weeding weeds between the rows
Sheaves reaped from what I sow
I feed the scraps to hungry crows
The golden orb that heat the soil
Cracked without the water flow
Needless labour spent in toil
Sweat that fell behind the plough
For the furrow is barren once more
Awaiting the falling of the snow
Winter in here and there as well
To return encumbered by the fall
Dream I always of spring eternal
Where youth yield fruits some more
Where childhood innocence is a shield
So I may enjoy the seasons forever
Weeding weeds between the rows
Sheaves reaped from what I sow
I feed the scraps to hungry crows
The golden orb that heat the soil
Cracked without the water flow
Needless labour spent in toil
Sweat that fell behind the plough
For the furrow is barren once more
Awaiting the falling of the snow
Winter in here and there as well
To return encumbered by the fall
Dream I always of spring eternal
Where youth yield fruits some more
Where childhood innocence is a shield
So I may enjoy the seasons forever
Published 12th March 2013 1:45pm
- Last modified 12th March 2013 1:46pm
A Touch of Evil
humming a song, a low dirge
a smiling face, a cheerfulness
even as his talons dug firm
in dying hearts
his eyes twinkling merrily
as his guests' souls left
the black clad persona
his back against the mourning
crowd, disdain in his demeanour
even as he fed on their sorrow
another lifeless to be buried
planted beneath the sod
the mewling living breathing man
the crowd that populate the earth
they eat kill maim anything weaker
than them, they crown themselves King
each one above the other
until they play and kill one another
he, the entity, walked among man
smiling as his boots ignited forests
on hills, mountains and islands
all over the land the fire burn
nothing stood on their way
and he laughed long and hard
men lighted their playthings, exploding
them among the crowds, scattered
disemboweled women, decapitated children
strewing them all over the buildings
and thoroughfares
they shot down flying objects from the sky
oh We meant to do that...such fun
he walked on, the man behind the rows
blood to blood, the sacrifice
for without the Earth would starve
His laughter always reverberated
better in time of bloodshed.
a smiling face, a cheerfulness
even as his talons dug firm
in dying hearts
his eyes twinkling merrily
as his guests' souls left
the black clad persona
his back against the mourning
crowd, disdain in his demeanour
even as he fed on their sorrow
another lifeless to be buried
planted beneath the sod
the mewling living breathing man
the crowd that populate the earth
they eat kill maim anything weaker
than them, they crown themselves King
each one above the other
until they play and kill one another
he, the entity, walked among man
smiling as his boots ignited forests
on hills, mountains and islands
all over the land the fire burn
nothing stood on their way
and he laughed long and hard
men lighted their playthings, exploding
them among the crowds, scattered
disemboweled women, decapitated children
strewing them all over the buildings
and thoroughfares
they shot down flying objects from the sky
oh We meant to do that...such fun
he walked on, the man behind the rows
blood to blood, the sacrifice
for without the Earth would starve
His laughter always reverberated
better in time of bloodshed.
Published 27th July 2014 9:56pm
A Tribute
A bouquet of gratitude to the webmistress
The creator of this portal
A mini united nations
For without her, this colourful landscape
Of a whirling swirling world
Inhabited by many and various people
Multitude of personalities like prisms
Alive, thinking, speaking and sharing
Will not bloom
It would just be a thought in a dreamer’s mind
Thoughts that blossoms into epics
Birthing words that create tales
That’s Jessica, who strides on…
With courage and strength
Dealing with pain
With words of wisdom
Is Kitty who likes it hot…
A thinking man who writes
Of love and life and more beyond
Runningturtle of 87
A man of short words
A nimbus of verses
Didi also known as SP Summerscales
Strider of the Passionate words
No pretences who longs
And at times grieves for her
Gypsy Red, who is no plain Jane
Who packs a mean punch
In some of her poems
She is truly loved
Poetryman, who is more than he is
Who have written so much
Since the time he knew poetry
He suffers no fools, that’s him
Whitewand or Sumeet
The veritable thinking poet
His knowing smile knows
I never forget Glynis
Of the good imaginings
Her poems tell stories
Admiration abounds for many here
Their poems and epics
hours of reading fun, pleasant delight,
Tales of sorrow, triumph, love and life
Like KymKym65 a talented quiet friend
Words carved by the poets mind
with abilities that are theirs alone
creating worlds here and beyond
Imaginations colouring constellations
Imaginings and realities together without seams
My gratitude and thankfulness to the poets above
And others I touched and who touched me
For though many old masters have inspired
this mind to blast with creative words
The DUP is where alive I became
In thoughts imaginings and words
to forge and form words to become
coherent enough to form a form
seen through mind-eyes by kindred
spirits who think same thoughts as I.
The creator of this portal
A mini united nations
For without her, this colourful landscape
Of a whirling swirling world
Inhabited by many and various people
Multitude of personalities like prisms
Alive, thinking, speaking and sharing
Will not bloom
It would just be a thought in a dreamer’s mind
Thoughts that blossoms into epics
Birthing words that create tales
That’s Jessica, who strides on…
With courage and strength
Dealing with pain
With words of wisdom
Is Kitty who likes it hot…
A thinking man who writes
Of love and life and more beyond
Runningturtle of 87
A man of short words
A nimbus of verses
Didi also known as SP Summerscales
Strider of the Passionate words
No pretences who longs
And at times grieves for her
Gypsy Red, who is no plain Jane
Who packs a mean punch
In some of her poems
She is truly loved
Poetryman, who is more than he is
Who have written so much
Since the time he knew poetry
He suffers no fools, that’s him
Whitewand or Sumeet
The veritable thinking poet
His knowing smile knows
I never forget Glynis
Of the good imaginings
Her poems tell stories
Admiration abounds for many here
Their poems and epics
hours of reading fun, pleasant delight,
Tales of sorrow, triumph, love and life
Like KymKym65 a talented quiet friend
Words carved by the poets mind
with abilities that are theirs alone
creating worlds here and beyond
Imaginations colouring constellations
Imaginings and realities together without seams
My gratitude and thankfulness to the poets above
And others I touched and who touched me
For though many old masters have inspired
this mind to blast with creative words
The DUP is where alive I became
In thoughts imaginings and words
to forge and form words to become
coherent enough to form a form
seen through mind-eyes by kindred
spirits who think same thoughts as I.
Published 30th August 2012 9:45am
A Trip
Anniversaries looming near
dates of when we met
of where we ate
who said what
and how it was
You forgot
like yesterday's newspaper
I should have known
that it was a brief ride
on destiny's tail
It was dying yesterday
and dead today.
dates of when we met
of where we ate
who said what
and how it was
You forgot
like yesterday's newspaper
I should have known
that it was a brief ride
on destiny's tail
It was dying yesterday
and dead today.
Published 16th October 2013 2:16pm
No comments:
Post a Comment