Sigh

Courtesy: Google Image

Do you remember

The thirty year old young man*

Whom you called ‘Cyclonic Monk’?

To whom you said “We’ve come to you

As we would go to Jesus”

He told you, “If only I could set you free like Him”

Do you remember

The thirty year old young man

Whose love flowed in the words

“My sisters and brothers of America”

And you flowed towards him

For the sake of a touch of his godly hands

Do you remember

The thirty year old young man

Whose words deluged America

It was one 11^th September, 1893

At Parliament of Religions in Chicago

It was you who said, “He is Strength and Love personified”

Ah, mark the date

9/11

Love bloomed then

An epoch making nineties

Of the Nineteenth Century

Sigh…………………………………

*Swami Vivekananda

Posted for Susan’s Midweek motif ~ Ninety / The Nineties @ Poets United
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Shared with Open Link Night # 169 @ dVerse

Extremes

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You live in the extreme

When you live without darkness

Yet beauty envelops knowledge

And you yearn for escapades

Courting chaos

Like Helen did

You live in the extreme

When you live without light

Until knowledge illumines

So that you can feel a word

Even the abstract ones

By a simple touch

Like Helen did

 

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Posted for Kerry’s hosting Flash 55 Plus! @ Real Toads

This Poem is an Artist, a Rainbow, a Forest

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This poem is a color happy Artist

This poem is a rainbow born from a seed

This poem is a forest of fairy tale trees

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This poem is an abstract art

A canvas with crazy hues

Each color vying with the other

To dazzle and hypnotize you

The invisible brush in Her hand

Paints with strokes and splatters

To make you marvel at Her mastery

This poem is a color happy Artist

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This poem is Eucalyptus deglupta

Birthed from cracking a seed

It races towards the sky in no time

It yearns to touch its love hidden there

While its bark peels like paint

It morphs into a solid rainbow itself

With strong roots well grounded

This poem is a rainbow born from a seed

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This poem is a spectacular forest

An almost impossible treescape

Of living and scintillating rainbows

One might mistake it for Eden

Though there’s no fruit for Adam or Eve

But the dreams of others grow unhindered

And reality stands on the threshold of dream

This poem is a forest of fairy tale trees

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This poem is a tale of Nature as an abstract artist

This poem is a ground born rainbow dreaming high

This poem is a dream of a forest of fairy tale trees

[This is my attempt at Hannah Gosselin’sBoomerang Metaphors]

                                                           

Posted for Sanaa’s Prompt Nights – When besotted with Green [8]

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Shared with Poetry Pantry @ Poets United

My Flower

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A flower was offered to me,

It was the spirit of beauty

With its petals of innocence

It whispered in fragrance

To forget it never

As it won’t last forever

When the scented days were spent

I realized what My flower meant

 

 

Posted for Poets United Midweek Motif ~ A Flower Was Offered To Me