Questions Futile

Life is like a flowing river;
Are you life, I asked the river;
The river did not stop
To answer,
It just kept flowing;
My dejected sigh
Failed to ruffle the surface
Of the stagnated pool,
Tadpoles scurrying merrily;
Retorted the frog,
On your way, move;
The crest of the wave
Caught the sunlight,
Twinkled;
Got your answer, it said,
And was gone;
The flowing river marched on,
Carrying the caricature of
My broken reflection,
To a place unknown.

and my futile question remained unanswered.

Home — Jane Dougherty Writes

This started as a comment I made to Jane’s poem today morning to which she responded immediately with a beautiful follow up and I responded back instantly.  As people say, the rest is history.  

 

The Oracle suggested the first section of this poem which became a collaborative poem when Pranab (in bold) chimed in. Why ask where home lies? Look out on the night ocean, listen to its wings beating, see how green morning wakes, slow and soft as peace falling, stars wheeling, in the vast silence of […]

via Home — Jane Dougherty Writes

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

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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

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