The lonely nightingale !


whence shall I be freed from the bondage of destiny
in blind clutches,
tied securely with strings
Breathlessly the body sinks,
ageing with the duties endlessly…
the cluster of orchids drooped
whilst I was busy in the chores of world
not once I got to touch the
enchanteur
failed the effort…
nothing earned…
why does the lonely nightingale then sing
song of solitude in melancholy
there’s a melody in her voice
inside the four walls
she sings and dies.
 
photocredit: king.portlandschools.org
red-winged blackbird

THE HIGHLAND LASS !


Winslow Homer-676928photocredit:www.fineart-china.com
 
O! Nifty , delicate highland lass,
beneath your trampled feet lies my heart
carefully walk and ride the horse
somewhere on the moorland , my soul drags along…whip when you , the lazy horse
watch the lengthy rope
moving in tangent harms
and sheds the cluster of flowers pink
those which hung from branches long.O! princess of mesa,
thou attire the floral skirt…
my love has decked the fabric
with embroider
and life hums the tune
of thy love song.

ADIEU!


Who knoweth the serrated pangs

of the piercing of poisoned dart

Alas! it pierced and pierced.

That nostalgia of the suffocating breath

memories flash in  visuals

history held the pen in hand

 bleed the pages…

prior being written.

the shrill and softness of the yearn

the quivering voice ,lost in sunburn,

drips through the sides with sweat or raindrops

as the oozing blood from the bruised heart gets frozen…

Brush, I aside the reason,

why and what for,should such happen,

isn’t trust , the jewel of faith,

blind how can be then a soul of reason…

wounded which my existence by charring words

turning me to ash,

…ablaze my integrity and conscience…

I sunk in oblivion

Knoweth not the world

neither can e’er

wish I, the sun dawns

when the ephemeral second arrives

stand when we across…and the mirror shines

Till then thou ! and me shall remain away

from the clutches of time…

photocredit:blog.selfarcheology.com

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Truth of Life


TRUTH OF LIFE
 

It’s the truth of life,what we crave for is lost ,
like the golden particles of sand,
that slide between the fingers,
even from a tight fist…
what we cannot hold ,
is the truth of time.

That which flows like a stream
open, unended, unclosed,
incessant,
like the love of a pure heart
unselfish, uncanny, selfless..

Beyond this altruistic reality
is nothing but a mirage,
world of images and fantasies
ready to get crushed by folds of time…
illusions many,
how much we wary
breaks the mirror of our whimsies
in broad daylight.

.

 Photocredit:www.terragalleria.com

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“I & my solitary creeper”


The fortress is my companion,
its walls my confidante
within the fortified ramparts
lie ,I and my solitary creeper.

It clings to a side
with a desire to feel the warmth
I, lost and abandoned
look for an auspice …

together we bind
knot ourselves in a string
hope where swings
light shines …

Hail ! thy wind ,we call upon
send us the fresh breath of the faraway blossoms
our air is stale
sleeps,the fortress in silence
I and my solitary creeper
fly away with the wind!