Despair

Dark is the hour
when happiness tends to flee.
Leaving behind a gaping hole,
absorbing all the glee.

Dark clouds on horizon,
threatening thunder and gale.
Where does one gaze,
searching hope should prayers fail.

The fading light mocks you,
taunting with cynical smile.
Nightmares come to haunt you,
bewitching with their guile.

Dreams torn asunder,
your descent's painful, slow.
The gaping abyss beckons,
to deal the fatal blow.

It's claws grabbing at you,
rending you beyond repair.
Always warring blissful happiness,
is the omnipresent despair.

On a rainy day...

Rains - to most of us - are harbingers of joy. When the heavens open to let through a downpour of relief, they inevitably herald visions of lush, sparkling greenery, rich white, flowing water, and monsoon trips.

Living in a city however, means muddy roads, potholes, dirty sidewalks, and of course increased density of traffic. This short piece was a result of being caught in traffic during heavy rains.

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Pouring down in sheets,
splattering against the road.
Caring not for the earth beneath,
the heavens opened and roared.

Confined in the three-wheeler,
a haze covered the sight.
Like a phoenix rising from ashes,
imagination took a flight.

To the lush green farmlands,
savoring the touch of life.

Dancing in the sweet nectar,
filled with heavenly delight.

To the high and mighty mountains,
dressed in lush green coat.
The canopy of wispy clouds
caressing as they float.

To the tall steep falls,
nestled in mountain's womb.
Water daring the heights,
yet not meeting its doom.

To the angry roaring river,
shackles broken, set free.
Sweeping away one and all,
who dared not to flee.

To the rambunctious childhood,
danced away in first rains.
Feet splashing in the puddles,
not bothered by the stains.

Blaring horns and pungent smells,
clear the mist that led astray.
Leaving behind a smile on lips,
on a dank and muddy rainy day.

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Betrayal

'Pon the cliff he stood so proud,

bethinking glories in the days gone past.

Victories won with blades flashing hard,

smiting all who dared to waylay his path.

Riding with the valorous, more brothers than comrades,

honoring the mortals immortalised by their deeds.

Fair he was, to foes, broken and defeated,

winning over hearts with kindness befitting a king.

His foes vanquished and kingdoms conquered,

he dreamt of ballads sung to honor their deeds.

Thus stood he, lost in glories achieved,

looking over his lands stretched beyond mortal sight.

The hand laid on his shoulder, to a brother belonged.

Alas! T'was too late to know the purpose of the hand.

One hand fastening on his shoulder,

the other driving in the blade.

Grief overwhelmed him, driving away the pain,

As the blade pierced his heart ringing his death knell,

his eyes seeking answer, met with the betrayer's.

Regret he saw first, overcome by jealousy.

'O my brother!' said the King, 'may you be blessed and live a life long!

Remember though that jealousy is unworthy of a king to be.

I beseech to thee to leave it be, for a mighty heart befits a king.'

And then he fell down the cliff, plummeting down helplessly,

till he was but a speck of sand, lost in the dunes of eternity.

In Hibernation

'Tis a time to slog not to frolic and play.

Thus says the clock commanding attention.

The mind struggles on, wanting plenty to say.

Mourning the days of coerced hibernation.

Random Musings

A lonely Drop in the vast ocean,

Tossed and turned and by the wind blown.

Journeying seven lands, over mountains and stones,

never in control, I wonder does it ever moan?

A Beam of sunlight bringing hope to all,

clearing the shadows wherever it falls.

Warming all hearts, gladdening all spirits,

who gives her the joy that she rightly merits?

The delicate Lotus standing tall amidst the filth,

Praised by all, it floats unnoticed, adrift.

Beauty it radiates, shining pearls on its leaves,

Surrounded by squalor, does it rejoice or grieve?

Standing proud and majestic, towering above all,

Unyielding to nature, come summer, spring, or fall.

Thus stands the mighty Oak, sheltering the lost wayfarer.

Neither tales nor songs speak of the behemoth’s valor.

Random thoughts drift ‘cross the mind,

Queries aplenty, no answers to find.

The many hues conflict, in the cauldron they strife.

Is this why they say it’s a wonderful life?