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”

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I Sing the Summer Blues

I love winter
With its promise
Of spring not far behind
You say you have
The winter blues
But hope is
All that I live for
I sing the
Summer blues
While sunshine
Lights up the world
I stay indoors
Don’t want to be burned
By the scorching sun
Or the raging envy
At the six pack abs
The sculpted bodies
On the beach
I hide my
Hibernating fats
Well hidden
By winter’s warm clothes
Summer shamelessly disrobes
For public view
Body shamed
I ruefully sing
The summer blues

Forlorn Friday

ForlornFriday_2

Nothing good comes from
Heart filled with hatred
Broken strings not
Good music make
A gloomy day
Even a forlorn Friday
Will pass
Like the tree in winter, patient
Knows spring will come
Keep that light burning
Hope will see us through
An eye for an eye
A blind world makes
Fill hearts with love
Darkest days sure
Will pass by

Morning Bloom

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Photo by author:Nov 12, 2017

‘He made the world to be a grassy road

Before her wandering feet.’ – W. B. Yeats

O’ morning bloom

Cheeks turned lovely pink

Gently touched by rising sun

One look at nature’s boon

All it took

To shrug off the gloom

 

O’ morning bloom

Fill my heart with joy

Banishing dark, gory mood

What a joy to behold

Your smiling, radiant face

Warming my heart

Driving away chilling cold

 

O’ morning bloom

Spread the joy all around

For a moment

Give us hope

Push away thoughts

Of dawning doom


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

Darkness as the sun shines

‘And he saw how the reeds grew dark
At the coming of night-tide,’  W.B. Yeats.

Darkness as the sun shines
Vultures are circling ready to dive
Sun hidden by their wings
Hyenas surreptitiously closing in
Beacon of hope to entire world
Crawling back to the womb
Alternate facts eviscerating truth
Enemy within us ready for the kill
Party time for the vultures and the hyenas
Smirking their lips
As darkness creeps slowly
On the land of the free
Swamp reeks
Home of the braves held
Hostage to fear and lies
Drain the swamp, yes
Start at the top


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

 

 

Crimson Crown

The streets are empty now, mourners have gone home
Lonely flower bouquets keeping each other company
Street lamps casting their lights as shadows roam
Here and there a few walk around drunkenly

What a lovely day it was full of laughter and hope
People milling around happily, sun shining through
A few shady characters trying to sell some dope
As I saw her coming down the street, my hope grew

She came with open arms and thousand roses bloomed
Her rosy cheeks and radiant smile filled my heart with joy
Never did I realized my love was to be short lived and doomed
In my imagination, she was more beautiful than Helen of Troy

Single red rose I offered she accepted with glee
Hand in hand we walked enjoying the day
Oblivious to the world around us, our spirits free
Ready to face the unknown future, come what may

When it came it came with a bang, no one expected
Peace was shattered, sun hid its face, the street exploded
Loud bang followed by deadly silence was all that remained
Blood and bones scattered everywhere, as chaos reigned

Amidst the ruins I looked for my love, where my joy has gone
Stem of the red rose bereft of its petals was the only memento I found
Heart filled with grief, bracing myself to a pole, looked up at the setting sun
Red rose petals mixed with gold blazed like a crimson crown


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

 

 

 

Day of Reckoning : Three Line Tales, Week 92

Sparkling lights, burning bright, lighting up the sky, hopes are high

Million strong, hoping to right the wrong, shouting we belong

Darkness underneath all encompassing, it’s still too far for the day of reckoning

photo by gn dim via Unsplash


Three Line Tales-Week 92