Beats of a Mourning Drum. (Short Poem)

Like each breath, inching closer to the chasm
that knows not mercy,
I am stepping on your soul,
with a mourning drum,
playing the tune of sorrow, of grief.

I am nurtured by your ignorance
I am everything you fear from,
You cannot escape…
Ye cannot slay…
I reign over you…
I leave you lifeless…
I am your darker side…

Marooned island. (a poem)

walking past the dead slaves
rotting in the gleaming sun
miles of water, no boats to row
a withered soul, for life, craves,
imprints of feet upon the mud
like dents in memory past,
searching home in jungles vast
arrives at door with a thud,
old memories like spider-webs
deter him from moving on
abandoned home on a marooned island
where dead slaves lay, dusk and dawn…

Remembering…

A MINOR BIRD by Robert Frost

I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;

Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more.

The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key.

And of course there must be something wrong
In wanting to silence any song.

Bury the Hatchet. (a poem)

I wake up every day only to notice the newspapers citing heinous acts of crime.

weary eyes, wounded soul,
pit of flesh, writhing, falls,
hits the pearl of your eyes,
laughes thee as it drifts by,
pit of flesh, it is naught,
torn, melted, wrought
a gift of nature drifts by
when will I again fly?

At Other End. (a poem)

with every breath, I wonder,
with every post I gather clue,
I wonder how your life unveiled
and on WordPress, I met you…

with every Follow two lives connect,
with every Like an acknowledgment made,
connects with every comment a subtle path,
we shelter beneath blogging’s shade…

an author you are, or aspire to be,
or a bard; verses spread from thee,
or a blithe traveller echoing your soul,
or a wanderer, searching your goal…

Life will lead to summits you seek
Flow with your thoughts and you will reach…

~~~

Acceptance. (a poem)

How can I be free
while dragging the boulders of regretfulness,
while drinking from the goblets of sins,
while soaring in the miasma of pretentiousness…

How can I be free
while moulding my own shackles
of greed, ego,
while bowing down
to the guillotine of deceit…

How long will I be aloof
of my own being,
my death or the patience of eternity,
How long will I take
to muster courage
and extend hands
for my own acceptance…
~~~