Red is the color of blood

Four preachers came to the square today,
With followers in tow and scriptures in hands,
They came to spread the message of peace
Preaching peace but hearts full with venomous hate.

With unwavering faith in their scriptures and in supremacy of their creators,
They spoke of harmony but stuck to their own studied faiths,
The city was burning fueled by division, its citizens at risk,
Blind followers’ rants heat up the atmosphere, citizens afraid.

Suddenly what went wrong no one knew, chaos ensued,
Amid pushing and shoving, fisticuffs and stabbings, mayhem reigned,
When the preachers were thrown to the ground, no one saw,
Crushed under the feet of the crowd, they cried out for help, as the stampede grew. 

Nurtured back to health with expert treatment and needed blood transfusion,
The preachers prayed to the Lords of their faiths in humble submissions,
Taking the name of their creators constantly, they offered their salutations,
Praising the physicians for their dedication, inquired about those who gave them life with blood donations.

Humbly replied the doctors, serving humanity without division is our religion,
Neither Christians nor Jews, nor Hindus nor Muslims here,
Knew not who donated blood, nor whose blood flow in veins of yours,
Black, white or brown, American, African, Asian or Mexican, unknown were the donors.

Only one thing is certain, an absolute truth, blood has no religion,
The blood that flows in your veins, same flows in everyone’s, that you also know.
It’s neither white nor brown nor black,
Red is the only color of blood.

Resurrection 2020

A short poem for Easter, of faith and belief in renewal.

Rejoice ye of little faith,
End of the crisis may be near, with
Spring in the air and sun coming out from
Under the clouds,
Renewal is near though misgivings may
Rear its ugly head, let’s not
Entertain negative thoughts
Clouding our judgement,
Terrifying though the current situation is,
In time this will also pass, have faith and
Onward march,
Never say die.
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Photos are by author.

Peace be on you

I am neither lost
Nor seeking
Neither I lack faith
Nor indoctrinated
Atheist I am not
Nor a believer
In a world gone mad
Everyone preaching
My way or highway
Who is to judge
Wrong or right 
I shall let you
Have your say
Will keep my
Opinion to myself
Lest I make a
Fool of me
Opening my mouth
Peace be on you
I have found mine

She wants to live

The idea that germinated as a short story became a poem because of my inability to sit still for a long time to write a story. While the words just flow for a poem, I stumble in writing a story. I realized the poem became long. My apologies.

Her name is not important, a Jane Doe will do
At times she was called by various names
Sweetie pie, princes, baby, love, and whore, Continue reading “She wants to live”

Skooby’s Call : RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge # 204 Home & Free

This post is in response to Ronovan’s Weekly Haiku Challenge .

Also in recognition of Ronovan’s warning ( or disclaimer ) ” , this post is neither about religion or any political issue

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His blind faith on us
Little did he know our choice
Nine rewarding years


We picked up Skooby about nine years back from Humane Society. He definitely was our choice as we saw his photo while researching for a dog.  When we went to see him first, he did not show any interest towards us at all and the lady volunteer who was looking after Skooby told us that he may not be a good fit and we should look for some more.  As we came out of the room and went to another rook to look at some other dogs, we realized that our daughter ( eleven at that time) was not with us. We went back to the other room and saw that she was sitting on the ground in front of Skooby’s crate and cuddling his feet and snout that he had out through the bars of the crate door.  Well, as people say, the rest is history and our bundle of joy is still with us all these years.  As the kids grew up and moved out to college, he is our happy companion keeping us away from empty nester syndrome.

Faith, Creation and Creator

Rose is a rose
By any other name
Creator, not sanctioned by
One’s own faith
Why is not the same

Losing our faith
We stopped seeking
Finding solace in miracles
Allowing us to be fooled
By afterlife’s dreams

Lured by promise
Of redeeming our souls
Of a heaven unseen
We sold ourselves
Committing the original sin

Peddlers of faith
Conquered and plundered
In the name of the creator
Rained unspeakable destruction
Offer us salvation

Where did we go wrong
We all of different faith
Enjoy the same creation
But with daggers drawn
Defend our creator’s name

Manipulated by the unscrupulous
Mortgaging our brains
We dance, celebrating division
In our creator’s name
Who says creator not the same

Game of Love

The game of love

Is not what you think

Takes two to tango

Just one to break up

A spring of dreams

Laid barren by

Midsummer’s sun

Sent to cold storage

Deep Winter’s snow

Yesterday’s rose petals

Withered and blown away

The game of love

Flourishes watered by

Faith and hope

Patience and desire

Compromise makes it bloom

The game of love

Not for the faint hearted

Commitment keeps it alive

Weathering storms of doubt

The game of love

Rich pleasure

For those

Willing for

A slow waltz

Fistful of Stars Covered by Dark Clouds : Collection of Five Short Poems

Wrote this collection of five short poems first in my mother tongue, Axomiya(Assamese), couple of weeks back.  Translated these to English today with the Axomiya version following.  The first poem, titled If Death be a Lover was posted on my blog on March 16, 2018.

If death be a lover
And grants only one wish
Will make death promise
To embrace and take me whole

Continue reading “Fistful of Stars Covered by Dark Clouds : Collection of Five Short Poems”

Nearing Journey’s End

‘…your hair was bound and wound

About the stars and moon and sun:’—W.B. Yeats

Many a miles we traveled together

Sunshine and starry nights as guide

Dark clouds and moonless nights

We stumbled but always had each other

Words superfluous, we were bound by love

Words not spoken we could clearly hear

Now at journey’s end, we have no fear

Even with eyes closed, faith will guide us there

Even if we can not hear each other

Looking into each other’s eyes, we can decipher

When our sights will fail us, gentle touch will suffice

Even if unforseen calamities do happen

Pathway to our hearts will remain open

And when all our senses fail, my dear

We will know time to say goodbye is near


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

Non-believer

I believe in the goodness of humanity
Believe that dawn will follow night surely
Believe in all things beautiful
Though the world is full of misery
Believe in  oneness of mankind, disappearance
Of artificial boundaries dividing us
Believe one day we shall overcome, and
Win our fight against eradication of crippling diseases
Believe we will be able to stop all abuses and exploitation
And rise above our shortsighted, mean spirited oppressors
I believe that peace will prevail over terror
Truth will always trump fake
Those who preach hatred
Will be consumed by their own hatred
But I do also believe that we the people
Of diverse faith, color and race
Working together will create wonder
To make this world better
Because I am not ready to wait
For grace of almighty
And believe in miracles to happen
You shun me as a non-believer
I will rather have my faith
In the goodness of humanity
And burn in hell if need be