War

 

 

Guileless white, pure, they float

Upon the blue canvas that God once wrote,

Morphing with the wind, to scenes of battle

A few smiling faces, and women who tattle.

Hours they can go on, if leisure you will to spend,

From the early morn, till the day calls it an end.

 

Across the white, spread streaks of grey,

Masking the beauty that hath defined the day,

The skies now awash with the cloudy clashes

Of sword fights unseen, yet clear resonant flashes

With the sound of mighty thunder gods at war,

Battles have bled skies onto lands afar.

 

Yet pure the undaunted spirit of the whites,

Colorless - the blood that flows from the fights,

The darkness has won, this battle now rests,

Wounded in form; pride - beam the chests

Of warriors, who await for their turn to get even,

Clouds on battleground; its now the war season.

...

Trot

 

  

 

No hurried steps, no place set

Nowhere to go when she wants to stop.

Slow, unfazed by the weather wet,

She walks; in step with every drop.

 

She looks for the clouds that conspired today,

And hid each other, to peek just a bit

To watch her dance, to watch her sway,

And when they applaud, dark skies are lit.

 

No smile as radiant could be seen this hour,

Spirited, light; Nimble-footed, bare--

She sought to appease, to calm with a shower,

A baseless anger, a loveless stare.

 

Battered souls; drenched,  in the stands

Untouched by water, but wet just the same.

Some fret, some curse, with folded hands,

Many more smiling at the trot of this dame.

 

…

The End

 

 

No blood anymore, I’ve not a heart that can pump.

Dead long before I even lay in this dump,

The last drops they had shed in violent disgust,

With a blade that’s baked with old blood and rust.

A resilient gut puts on a last weak stand

And blood, like all else, did now disband.

 

I count the morbid hours, alone in wait

Dark shadows, it seem, have taken the bait

For they hook me now to the spangle of the dead

And drag my corpse for the vulpine to be fed.

I bid you farewell, for the end is now here,

Better a sordid death, than breaths of fear.

 

…

The Answer

 

 

 

Beyond all else, I hate the odd feel in my gut,

When your visage I recall, whilst stuck in a rut,

I hate that I cannot move on with life,

While the joy of us is, with agony, rife.

 

Could a bond so complex sum a love so clear

That every waking moment I would want you here

By my side; watching, going about your chores

Free, yet together with this unfathomable force.

 

For when I sit in silent hours, memories play a cruel game;

Trembling in the silent air, is the sweet sound of your name

Like a musical chord that broke the silence but once,

And awaits for long, your response – hours,weeks..months.

 

…

Rainman

 

 

Heavens shed tears today

Silently into hours of the night,

Even Gods can feel her dismay

But cry in love past the hours of light.

 

They would rather not be seen

Watching their loved one mellow,

So tonight, unlike other nights have been,

They turn to the aid of a glad fellow.

 

Make her smile, they say

For she is hope, we sent down,

To see clear paths everyday

And turn into joys, every frown.

 

And tried as he did to make her smile

The boy grew fonder of her heart,

Till he could see her beyond barriers of mile

That put those twined souls apart.

 

Oh, for when she smiles now,

The Gods smile in radiant glow

Wondering what he did and how,

But glad that her smile did show.

 

Far from her he sits down, glad

That her smile has now returned,

He packs his bag and leaves, but sad,

To where the Gods have now turned.

...