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

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How many more moons

‘Where time is drowned in odour-laden winds
And Druid moons, and murmuring of boughs,’ – W.B. Yeats

Rains have stopped long ago
The river shifted
Land under deep water, now
Caked mud  and mass of shifting sand
Million moons have passed
Monsoon and drought
Everpresent harrowing floods
Curse of erosion, a
Constantly changing landscape
Amidst the hardship
Life moves on
Chanting and dancing
Music and culture
Living monasteries
Cycle of life
Constant struggle of
Destruction and construction
As the dragon to the north
Dreams ambitious
To throttle the life line
Turning enchanting island
To lifeless desert
Simple souls carry on
Oblivious of the fate
That may soon befall
How many more moons
How many more moons
Only time will tell

Image result for image of majuli river island
Image of Majuli Island from Google


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