THE TUNNEL OF LIGHT

image source here

I wonder

So many souls

Living so farther away

From time and space

 All

Speak alike

About

A Lazarus journey

They took

Transcending

This world

                    

It goes beyond my grasp

How could it be?

 

What does it matter

If I choose to be an atheist

And think this life

To be one and only

This world to be one and only

Death to be the end of everything

Or If I am a believer

Have faith in God

In the immortality of the soul

And in rebirth

And I feel my life fleeing

Hushed and gentle like the gazelle

 

Truth

Always remains

The Truth

 

Inspired by Gabriela Mistral’s poem Dusk, I used the last two lines (in italics & red fonts) of Dusk in my poem. This is written for Grace’s Sunday’s Mini-challenge: Gabriela Mistral @ Real Toads

&

I’m also sharing the poem with Poetry Pantry @ Poets United

MORNING

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 The golden iris of her

Softly stares

Pink clouds are her

Shy words

Her river dream

Meanders away

Wavy hands catches

The warmth

While icy darkness

Fades and hides

The morning slowly

Pledges to shine

 

(35 words)

 

Posted for Brian’s prompt: write with 40 words or less @ d’Verse MTB

 

GAZA OR HIROSHIMA

 Hiroshima city before and after the nuclear bomb blast in 1945. PU

Their mantra was ‘EFFACE’

So necropolises grew of that

They are still very much living

And counting beads in darkness

Chanting the same old mantra

There is no escape

Can’t ring in the “Christ that is to be”*

Sigh…….

 

 

*from 106^th verse of Tennyson’s In Memoriam

 

Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif ~ Hiroshima or Ring a Bell @ Poets United

AT HOME

courtesy : Poetry Jam

I always thought I’d perk up my looks

If I could wear those outfits

Displayed by mannequins

Beckoning at the doorsteps

Of the sparkling clothing stores

 

But that was not to be

 

Mother would choose cut pieces

Of floral prints and intricate laces

Her machine will sew her dream

With the magic touch of eternal love

But that inner me would want to be a drama queen

 

 

Posted for Mary’s prompt Home Made @ Poetry Jam

A TRUE STORY

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No one knows that the man

Who can’t stop clapping

Is originally a dragon

He can take any shape he wishes

And can turn anyone into anything

Let me tell you, don’t tell anyone

He is immortal too

So if you come across

A Greek god or goddess

Drinking ambrosia

From a cup with orange flowers painted on it

Or a sly crocodile eyeing

At an old liquor bottle

Be level headed

He might change his color

Becoming the black swan

And turn you into Leda

I shudder to think of the outcome

If you ever see a bluesman

Playing the saxophone

With two children

Hansel & Gretel like

Be aware              

They are originally

The dragon’s black cat

And dog with yellow teeth

You get me who the bluesman is?

Even Superman is scared of him

Once the dragon made him

His housekeeper

He would roam about the lawn

Picking this and that into

A red wheelbarrow

And whine all the while

(In a voice that resembled

The first violinist’s composition

Even a metronomic beat was present)

And clean the dragon’s blue car

Or that huge old tractor

No one knows what’s that for

The dragon is not merciless though

Couldn’t he have made Superman

Into a bat, a raven

Or a chicken, or even worse

The Icequeen’s nutcracker?

He only made him a laborer

 The Superman sighed and thought

Even being that fatty Obelix

Would have been so much better

He could own his quarry

And chisel menhirs himself

Now look at him……ugh

He wanted to become lost forever

Like the needle in the haystack

One day he was free

Don’t ask me I don’t know how

I last saw him on the screen

On a broken seat in a spaceship

Disappearing into the unfamiliar sky

Of some planets may be Neptune….

 

 

Posted for Claudia’s prompt @ d’Verse Poetics

NIGHT

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When the white hills

The crystal orb

The silver stream

The shaman air

The soft night untying

Her long silken hair

Become my guitar

I strum

Releasing words

That glint

With dream

And rise in the sky

Posted for Poetry Pantry @ Poets United

WHAT’S COMING

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Woe unto the wombs

Of those that gave birth

To the roaming killers

That live on oil, power

And children’s blood

 

Syria’s children

Feed on bread crumbs

Lying in the dust

 

Woe unto those

Rotten brain cells

From where birthed

Aggression on pretext

Of giving dreamy life

 

Man’s children

Feed on bread crumbs

Lying in the dust

 

Blood dripping from talons

Bomb dropping from wings

Burning burrows render

Rabbits in thousands homeless

Killers circling overhead

 

God’s children

Feed on bread crumbs

Lying in the dust

 

Such scenes were enacted before

Oppressors’ bones were scattered in the wind

A little bit impossible endurance needed

Before Time scourges the pestilence

From the shores

 

All children

Will feed on love

On this crystal globe

 

Posted for Marian’s prompt Jerusalem @ Real Toads