Door closed for the last time

‘The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,’ —W.B. Yeats

The door closed for the last time
The old occupant had left
No light will be shining today
The hushed voices, furtive exchanges
Business transacted in darkness
Comings and goings at odd hours
Night owls were they
All will cease momentarily
Resistance was futile
Free will broken and subdued
Tears ran dry long ago
Scant cover of modesty
Snatched and thrown away
Colorful dresses just an allure
Before being routinely disrobed
First time the door slammed shut
Rainbow had vanished
Somewhere over the roof
Sky hidden by darkness
No rainbows shined today
Under cover of the whitesheet
Closed eyes could not see
Tears  running down from the sky
Perhaps appropriately
Last journey under a
Canopy of dark clouds
A life lived hiding
Behind closed doors
Dim lights unable to lift
Perpetual veil of darkness
Left that all behind
On a starless night
None left to weep
Behind closed doors, mourners
Busy selling their wares
They have to survive
Till their call comes
Somewhere a new occupant
Being prepared
To satisfy animal lust
The door will open soon
For innocence to be lost forever


This poem is in response to Jane Dougherty’s A Month (November) with Yeats Challenge day Seventeen

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She did not come to steal my heart

‘Do you not hear me calling, white deer with no horns?’—W.B. Yeats

The doe eyed beauty looked up and my heart melt

She walked daintily as if not to leave any mark, full of grace

Nature endowed her with all the beauty, she looked resplendent

A graceful curvaceous body  adorned by a beautiful face

My heart aching to reach out to her but I was afraid

She stole my heart as I looked at her hazel eyes

A red rose from the garden an appropriate gift, I surmised

Thanks I was not expecting but her acceptance  be my prize

Called out to her softly, asked her to wait

My heart beating, gently I went to pluck a rose

Surprised she darted changing her gait

As I saw my devastated garden, my heart froze

Did not wait for my rose, she did not come to steal my heart

After her voracious appetite, my rose garden will need a fresh start
deer (2)
©Pranab2017


This poem is in response to Jane Dougherty’s A Month (November) with Yeats Challenge day Sixteen

 

 

Bai is there : Three Line Tales, Week 94

Life did not treat her fair, working day and night as a maid and a family to take care
Even if she was sick, she had to work to earn her wages so that her children could eat
Water tap running dry, no issues, to carry water from the well Bai* is there

photo by Scott Umstattd via Unsplash


 

* Bai (or didi etc.) – a generic name by which maids are called in many Indian households

Three Line Tales-Week 94

Launch, not lunch, you fool

Lunch! I jumped up with joy
I will join you in a minute
Let me collect my toys
Hunger pain was acute

Where did everyone vanish
Cafetaria was empty
My enthusiasm tarnished
I am now sweaty

Searched every nook
Everyone in meeting hall
Launching Sacha’s book
Mama mia! I am a fool


This post is in response to Sacha Black’s 32 weeks in 52 words – week 46

Kindergarten Teacher: Thanks to Hank Ketcham for the laugh

KindergartenTeacher

Let me start with the disclaimer that I have utmost respect to teachers and specially teachers working with children. That’s an awfully hard job.
I always enjoyed reading Dennis the Menace cartoon strips.  Even after so many years, reading old strips brings a smile to my face. So when a friend shared some selected cartoon strips in whatsapp today, it brought some happiness to a gloomy day. Sharing the one that brought the loudest laugh and again with my apologies to all kindergarten teachers.

Bell tolls for all

‘You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled
Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring
The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing.’ —W.B. Yeats

Battlefields were gone long ago, bones turned to dust
Thousands perished here feeding conquerors’ power lust

They were young once, full of ambitions and dreams
Life cut short in distant lands amid pain and screams

Call of duty, false pride or manipulated by the powerful
They came in hordes, primed to kill, but dying like fools

Promises unfulfilled, broken hearts’ lonely cries unheard
Silent cries crush the hearts of myriad orphans left behind

Crumpled statues litter the landscape, those who gave the war calls
Take heart lost ones, when the dust settles, the bell tolls for all


This poem is in response to Jane Dougherty’s A Month (November) with Yeats Challenge day Fifteen

Deer Encounter

dear2
She decided to pose for me
dear3
And then there were two

Today morning during my morning walk with my four legged companion, Skooby, I was graced by the presence of this deer family.  I have seen them before but never been able to take a photo.  Generally Skooby will try to bark or try to give a chase.  But familiarity must have given rise to boredom or the short leash may have helped.  The doe kept eyeing me, assessing if we are any threat, moving slowly away from us and then stopping briefly to look at us again.  Everytime she stopped, I stopped. Finally she must have been reassured enough to stay at one place to shoot her, albeit with my cell phone.  Soon she had company but the big guy decided to stay at a distance, out of my cell phone camera’s reach for a good photograph.

Maybe this encounter today was predestined as my morning started with a post from Jane (A month with Yeats Day Fifteen) where she commented that a deer had come up to her window and peeped at her. There must be a deer connection somewhere.