Calling out to mate lost

Dawn broke with the melancholy call to her mate

Mournful cooing of the one left alone and sad

Does she not realize by now that her mate is gone

Taken by someone higher up on the food chain

Nature had dealt her a blow, her mate will not return

Alas, the promise that was to be a new beginning

Shattered, her mate left without a good bye, never to be seen

She still hopes and comes back to the abandoned nest

May be if she calls long enough he will hear and be back

I don’t know if her heart breaks as one whose love has left

But her mournful call to her mate sure makes my heart break

As I look at her through the window she looks back at me

Her sad eyes inquiring if I know what happened to him

Silently I send up a pray to whoever can hear

Up in the sky the hawk may carry her to her dear

As she looks around the empty nest one last time and fly away

I close the blinds and hope some one does hear me pray

Sad though it may be as the empty nest rots away

The heart breaking cry I don’t want to hear to start my day


Few weeks back a pair of doves started making a nest under the roof on our front porch. At first they would fly away when we opened the front door. The day the eggs were laid, I was going out in the early afternoon. As I opened the front door, the male flew in from somewhere and spread his wings to cover the female sitting in the nest. I wish I had my camera with me. Then one day the male never returned. I feared the worst. The female kept on sitting on the nest. By that time she had become accustomed to us and would just look at us without flying away. By the third day after the male was gone, it was apparent that the female cannot sustain without food. Then she was gone too. I was sad but nature took its own course.

However to make the matter worse, the female started visiting the empty nest from time to time and call out to her mate. It is simply heartbreaking. First she used to come in the afternoon or evening but last couple of days she started coming in the morning. It is painful to see her sitting in the empty nest and calling her mate.

Sunset do not excite me anymore

Sunsets do not excite me anymore
As I sit by the sea looking over the horizon
Capturing the colorful hues most distant from my thoughts


Modern day electronic entrapments lying unused as
Creeping fingers of darkness ride the waves
Whitecaps no longer translucent
Ocean darkening does not reflect
Radiant colors of the sky subdued
The murmur of the gentle waves
Does not sing a song of rejuvenation
Melancholy reigns as darkness falls
Sunset is no longer a harbinger of night
To be followed by daybreak, as I
Hear the whisper of the hooded boatman
Ferrying the returning souls
It’s time to go home
Somewhere on the distant horizon
As the last ray of the setting sun
Slowly sinks into a bottomless pit
I see a beacon, a point of light
A flickering hope whispers
As the dark waves crash onto the shore
A tiny iridescence whispers in my ear
Somewhere it’s the beginning
It’s a new dawn
You have lost the path, but
The search is still on


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

Week 10 of My Fifty Two Weeks Journey with “W”

Not sure why I have not been focussed at all today.  I sat down to write and I digressed. No, it is not writer’s’ block. Ideas are continuously bombarding my mind, pushing to come out and defile the computer screen. It’s just that extra push I am not been able to give myself to sit quietly and write. That extra push that is needed for many of us to get out of bed and start the day. That extra push that is needed to take us out of a funk and go out and achieve something.  That extra push that is needed to get out of our night clothes , shower and go ahead to start the day. That extra push that converts work from drudgery and chores to fun. That extra push that is needed to lift us from thinking “what’s the point of doing all these” to “Yes, we can”.  Sometimes we need help, but the best help as we all know is self help.  It will have to come from within ourselves to respect us. If we do not love us, how can we love others? Nothing great comes out of hatred. Feelings of depression and melancholy will definitely trickle down to one’s expression including writing.

Ah! writing.  I still have to find a word starting with the letter “W” for my poem for week ten of my fifty two weeks journey with “W”.  Already half of Wednesday is over and I have not yet posted anything for “Write Anything Wednesday” for April 6. I have made this commitment to myself for the year long journey and I do plan to keep it, if I can find anything. Now that’s funny, anything for “Write Anything Wednesday”. I don’t think I am getting any external help in this, so I have to look within myself to find the word and write a poem about it. “Within”, now that’s a word starting with “W”. So why not write a poem starting with “Within”.  What can go wrong? Nobody reads poems anyway.  So with that thought, it’s off to lunch I go. Digressing again, but promise to come back soon, write my poem and post it before Wednesday is over. Who knows what Thursday holds.


This post is in response to  Write Anything Wednesday 4-6-2016, Daily Post Community Event, organized by  Writerish Ramblings

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