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

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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

Contradictions

A clear blue sky
Lacks definition.
Without a dark night,
For a bright day
There is no appreciation.
Without its spots
Moon won’t be as beautiful,
Road lacking few road bumps,
Journey is uneventful.
A blemish free life
There is no story to tell,
Without the past of Jean Valjean
Les Misérables won’t ring a bell.
Calm sea hides
Deep secrets in its bosom,
Vibrant nature in a moment
Wrecks havoc and destruction.
A world at peace,
Will it be boring?
Thought of violence
To appreciate peace,
It is depressing.
Even without appreciation
Rose will still bloom,
Even if no one looks
Beauty is not doomed.
A bipolar world
May be the norm,
Not an aberration.
Life is a saga
Full of contradictions.

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