Moist air lingered before what would come,
‘The peace before the storm’
They would say.
Oh, I disagree,
The ‘Peace’ to me is overwhelming
A single form of unrecognised suppression,
Energy, a force,
Wanting to let go.
Let free.
Is it tired of hiding?
A crackle and flash,
Accompanied by the piercing downpour.
To many, this is danger;
To some, this is relief.
Now, all is still
All is over.
The ‘Peace’ has began
Once again.
Once on a bright new morning,
mama dragged me into the cold.
This triggered me into mourning,
and for every reluctance she gave me a scold.
My gentle cry pierced the tranquil atmosphere,
as she stripped me naked.
My heart raged like a burning spear,
as she scooped frosty water on my head.
“Let me use the BAYTLOOM,”
I shouted at mama naughtily.
Her angry eyes measured me like a tape rule,
as she hissed at me haughtily.
In a jiffy, neighbours gathered to look,
where I strove with mama and cried.
The cause of mother and child hullabaloo,
amazed them all as they laughed.
ÀTÒKÉ my play mate also came peeping,
as she covered her tooth detached mouth in a manner to ogle.
My heart continued leaping,
as if it was going to tumble.
How I wish- to my mother’s will I had concurred,
I thought as- my spit- I continued to swallow.
Then this mess wouldn’t have occurred,
In self pity I continued to wallow.
The bird sings tenderly to the boy among the stars,
Who dances with demons and steals kisses from jars.
But they don’t see what’s beneath,
Beneath the lies and beneath the sheets.
He is caged by the voices screaming in his head,
And still, the boy pleads
Pleads for mercy and pleads for freedom.
But still we are blind
And still we don’t listen.
However, there comes a time
In the middle of the night when the demons go to sleep.
That’s when the boy runs, runs, runs, runs
To the forest.
But he doesn’t hide, he dances with his fears
he dances with the trees
because he is alive and that’s enough for him
Yes, he cries and yes, he’s in pain
but no, he doesn’t run away
no, he doesn’t fall to his knees without standing again
because you don’t see
he is not alone
he was never alone
the bird always behind him
when he falls the bird lifts him again
“The demons will go away,” the bird sings tenderly to the boy among stars.
“you just keep dancing.”
See the works of God so great,
greater than what man’s lip can state,
during creation with no man did He debate,
nor to any man His plans did He relate.
See how mysteriously He arranged the rocks,
huge over small He piled them up in bulk,
mystically He made the tree leaves interlock,
all this mystery are His handiwork.
He raised the sky without a pillar,
neither did He grade the earth surface with a bulldozer,
He comprehends all language without an interpreter,
in battles He is always a winner.
God’s work is an ocean that man’s thought cannot sail,
men tried getting His secret but continued to fail,
He contacts men from above without a mail,
His power and potentials are never frail.
He created the sun to shine so bright,
the moon also gives its nocturnal light,
for several years the sun and moon never fight,
or engage in a duel to show their might.
I cannot but give God my humble praise,
the one who created me in replica of His own face,
In His divine heart He created for me a huge space,
His love for me is just divine grace.
The Pearl of the Indian Ocean
Shimmers
They have found land at last!
But the Great Powers’ promises beckon
Like treach’rous, blood-red white mirage.
As gunmen ravage the lost citadel
And smash through the ramparts
The explorer’s laments would shatter
Even the rock-hard Devil’s heart.
As the child scratches through rubble
A half-remembered name comes to her lips
Now but a name on a map- can you now
Remember Mogadishu?
I thought it was normal to look after your mum.
To cook, wash and clothe her.
I was really happy
No one ever knew though.
I started missing out on the fun,
They went to the beach, they played in the sun
I just stayed home and bathed my mum.
I wanted to play
I wanted to run
I wanted to do what the others done.
My mum needed me I couldn’t leave her,
Even if it was a concert for Justin Bieber!
I loved her too much for that.
My best friend left me,
I had no one
Except that mum
That couldn’t do anything for herself.
I always bought the shopping,
Then my grades started dropping.
The money I took,
Made me feel like a crook
I saw a flyer at school
“Are you under 18?
Do you look after a loved one alone with special needs?
If so come along to Carers!”
Yes I cried!
They fixed my life
It was never the same.
I played and had fun
I WAS A CHILD AGAIN!!
Thank you Carers,
I was saved.
Thanks to you,
MY MUM IS SAFE!
A slender spine of grass, trembles in the early morning breeze
It perseveres to balance, a fragile, brittle, tear-shaped jewel
The jewel trickles down its spine,
Moistening its aching vertebra
And seeps down, into the embrace of the fragrant soil
A crystal! An ethereally beautiful dewdrop!
‘O’ dewdrop! You’re ever so light-weighted,
You’re carried away by the wind,
Mother Nature ruffles the cascading sleeves of her gown,
And lets a sweet breeze blow,
Which gently lifts the corners of the shimmering veil,
Formed by you and your comrades,
Revealing a sheet of fresh, moistened grass
‘O’ dewdrop! You’re a tear of pride,
Paving a winding path down Mother Nature’s fair cheeks,
And when the sun’s effulgent rays
Trace along your delicate ends,
An infinitesimal spectrum of resplendent colours,
Escapes your glassy self, and gently drifts away
You faithfully stand by your assigned spear of grass
When a grey fog spreads itself,
Across the vast sheet of blue sky
Undaunted by the surrounding, transparent blanket of frost
You’re squashed to death by football studs,
And writhe in vulnerable agony, under the brisk footsteps
Of the swarming crowd of energetic morning walkers
Yet, the next day; you’re back again!
Comforting the quivering spear of grass,
With the same assuring smile
I bear the burden of fear
while I am desperate
to be strong
like an issue resting on my shoulders I shoulder my issue
flexing and burning my muscles
from morning to night
knowing tomorrow I must overcome
when I lay my head to rest
sometimes my burden is a pain in my chest
sometimes it’s as hard as stone in my belly
my burden is my goal, my goal to overcome fear
I try to conquer, slay, vanquish fear
like John Cena
All gagged and cooped in gaols of fate,
we all expect the fantasical saviour who told us all to wait,
our future served out to us as a hors d’oeuvre in corruptive plates,
and still we are mute like a helpless smelt caught with baits.
Everyday children wait at home for their hustling fathers,
the one who later comes home to render stories that makes them wonder,
before wives, husbands seems like slackers,
and to all children, parents appear to be liars.
Day by day – in our offices – squatters gain the recognition,
something that have – for ages past – been regarded as an abomination.
With sabre rattles and cudgels we are restricted from making any opposition,
and we all brook defeat like a soldier that ran out of ammunition.
Cheated by demented political ciphers who claim to be compos-mentis,
we all – with great alacrity – settle down to champ smithereens and debris,
poverty sniping straight at our heart with great bliss,
yet we all sit consenting like patients diagnosed of hypnosis.
We are all bludgeoned by ferocious sybarites,
the ones who – at our expense- bask in opulence like parasites,
inwardly – in our hearts – we shudder and rage like a ton of dynamite,
but forlornly we watch like a lion deprived of his teeth to bite.
In ignorance of our own rights we continue to grope,
blinkers on our eyes and on our necks are hulking slavery ropes,
sibyls and shamans accosting us with a sham of being our only hope,
but with our resources – to foreign countries – their kleptomania filled hearts wishes to elope,
We are all – in one way or the other – disarmed like a ju-jitsu combatant,
the one who expects a fisticuffs but was faced with armed militants,
after espying the militants’ guns, bazookas and bullets that are abundant,
eventually give in concluding that bearding the armed militants is – however- irrational and redundant.
History is past which did not last!
Some were fossiled while a few got enlightened.
History is really fizzy which still remains a mystery.
From Harshwardhana’s nobility to Aurangzeb’s cruelty,
all wanted power as if it was money!
Structures and structures were built along,
pity students had to learn them all 🙁
In sake of modernisation, they baked the Indians!
that left behind a rebellious neighbour.
Wars and wars were next to come
that required a huge lump-sum!
Not even the temples were spared
we all were already sped.
History gave some glee too’
which made our heads moo!
From Ashoka’s change of heart
to the system of bart.
History is past which did not last!