That’s the end!
A feeling crawls in
Times unaware
So creepy, so ghoulish
Gaping at the unseen
Schedules crushed
Strategies lost
Plans all crumbled
Listings crippled
And a doleful heart
Proclaimed by pals
As a resolute soul
Was I one
I did ask myself,
Once and more
Here I stand
Frozen and inert
Staring at nothing
All hollow and bare
Wishing if it all ends
Cool winds blow
Harsh and hard
Turning my cheek
Over to the path
Bright behind
Leading its way,
To Freedom and Love
New Horizons Bright
As the storm clouds of unforeseen gloom hover low
with the shattered sky’s diffused light of uncertain future,
I gift my soul sinking within the abyss of dire darkness,
glints of lingering hope from the cornucopia of nature.
The symphony of spring cascades in the cadence of air,
in the orchestra of zephyr its mesmeric melody I hear.
On sunburst sky turning to argosy of splintered ember
the flotilla of chromatic clouds makes flaming furrows.
As the mystic mist melts on the dew of the meadow,
the blushing blades of grass adorn the crystal crown.
From the canvas of sapphire spread on the pellucid sky,
drizzles the patina of ebullience on the rustling leaves.
The flushing fresco of flowers the bursting buds unfurl,
designing the tapestry of grandeur on beguiling garden.
The flitting butterfly swarm creates collage of spectrum,
serene scenes of sublime beauty brighten somber times.
April 9, 2020
Contest : Serenity In Scenes Of Mother Nature
Sponsor : Chantelle Anne Cooke
May 24, 2020
Contest : Strand No. 770
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Like a bouquet of tulips in spring
on wings of passion I sing
Growing strong like Taurus star
Together with you, heaven never far
13.02.2018
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Romantic charm in 4 lines - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
2nd place in the contest
F-rom dawn till midnight,
R-apture fills the earth;
E-ve of new year has come,
D-elighting the day of your birth.
P-leasure December thirty-first
U-ses the Saturday night;
R-eady to display the fireworks,
A-ir is brightened by the
L-ight.
C-old chilling raindrop
H-as left Tuesday night;
A-n early morn has broken,
R-ising sun shares the light.
L-et eighth February warm
Y-our soul and your heart;
N-ew dawn denies the dusk, as the dark shadows depart.
O-ne sweet lovely Wednesday
G-reets the sky all the while;
A-n amazing face is painted,
D-ay is brightened by a smile.
I dreamt of a brightened past
Where my love use to laugh,
Smiles and kind eyes
Never would I imagine that our happiness to die.
Living in fear of losing him
It never seems to dim,
Call me a coward
Call me a waste
But this love is more than anyone can imagine.
It hit on me one sable, chilly night,
Of masquerade is life made?
Out of the blue I realized I had to fight,
in order not to miserably fade..
But then again I gave a second thought..
Ought I to achieve stardom? I'd rather not..
Cause I knew how the world worked,
with all the prejudices and hypocritic jerks..
Sometimes I wish I could do my best,
to carve a smile on people's face..
And then I end up like all the rest,
failing to save their souls from today's pace..
It's just funny how people would rather
fret over the scratches on their cars,
than the countless lives lost in wars..
figures they're too conceited to even bother..
Isn't it a crying shame,
when everyone yearns for fleeting fame?
If only they realized the fact,
that there's more to life than titles and tags..
And there came a point where i could speak no more,
for sometimes I've lost and sometimes I've won..
There were things to learn and peaks to soar,
and i figured i had a long way to go..
Under the starry sky i then slept,
long after wondering what the future might have kept..
Tonight sleep was not coming to me.
Tears had washed the splinters out of the bruised eyes.
It was becoming extremely hard to pulversize
the legacy, the tendrils of violence.
Wrapped in white shrouds the bodies were laid out
on the grass. The pearly sunlight was ready
to give anything for a name.
The pitted legs, the shattered bones,
black moles of the final darkness. Descending
on the battle ground, parched throats
licking up the dew from the mute bodies of ancestors.
I would eat death, shapeless, as blunt
questions, as medallions. Millions of years will be ready
to make out the fossils of time machines.
Are not the pinnacles of snow shining on the
mountains of silent hate ? You keep the windows
open, so that the blasts does not shatter the glass.
When this calamity will end ? The new born
babies are thrown out on heaps of garbage, bloody
rags of unhinged bloughs. A hunch-backed
god was tottering on the broken planks.
SATISH VERMA