Skip to main content

Loud Rain

The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
Post a Comment

A blind dove

 The blind dove

A white blind dove

Sat on a tree

He had no morning or light

For nothing he could see.

The doves having sight

To spring and autumn see

Laughed aloud

And all around their feathers flee.

One day the forest roared

And the trees all burning down came

To light the grass and dry leaves

In quick, spreading flame.

The ones who saw the light

Unrolled their wings in pride

And the blind with his toned ears

Followed along behind.

The rising ash turned their wings black

And they their splendour lacked.

They pricked and scratched their feathers all

Until they had no feathers at all.

It seems too wise to have sight.

Later they saw no day, no light.

For from the clouds they fell into the flame

For a mistake so stupid and lame.

The blind dove still flew ahead

Before the twigs and trees could turn red.

When he couldn't feel the heat,

He thanked the lord

For carrying him in his hand

Away from the burning gallore.

He called his friends aloud

But no voice in his ear arrived

Because all of them were gone

And none were alive.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I'll tell her

 I want to tell her, But she might be seeing me as a friend. I want to tell her, But what if she doesn't like it. I've always been that dreamy kid Sitting in some corner, On some bench, Ignored, Marked as absent by the teacher. I've always been that dreamy kid Everyone gossips about. No one has come close. No one has the courage To look into my eyes and see the lava Popping bubbles in me. No one has the courage To look at these hanging spikes of ice, Waiting to fall on the young deer with broken legs. But she saw it. She doesn’t feel the heat, But she at least counts the popping bubbles. She doesn’t feel the heat, But she's the only one who wants to. She'll push me downhill And I’ll break a rib or two. But the spikes of ice won’t fall on me. I’ll break a rib or two. But she'll take this young deer home, Wrap him in a blanket And put him near the fireplace. I want to tell her. And I have to tell her, Because she's too smart  To understand what I feel. She too...
Post a Comment
Read more

Magic and logic

 A white horse with wings Can come out of the ocean, Cats afraid of water Can develop a taste for fish, Bats dying on power lines  Still roam around at night. Logic is not enough in this world. Logic is not enough When a rhinoceros chases you through the Savannah. Nature steps in And tells you to run for your life. It doesn’t tell you to wait And make a trap in the sand. Maybe The weird is just what has not become logic yet. But Should we make it logic? Should we really ooze out the magic in everything? We have become Too smart. We have become Too selfish. We have become  Too organised, Too fixed our ways. And we don’t see the magic in anything.
Post a Comment
Read more

Can't death come quick?

 A flower fell off a bouquet, And someone stepped on it. And they all went about with their business. But I can’t help but stare at it; The act of hastening death. Everyone went about their business. But I can’t help but stare at it; The dewless petals, The red colour blackening with the creeping shadow of death, The stalk separated from the head Like with a guillotine. It might have been plucked from it's family, From the other flowers. But it's okay. They'll die as well. It's just that this flower will die faster. But in this world where everything happens in a rush, Can’t death do the same?
2 comments
Read more