Someone has said that life is a mystery
Wrapped in enigma’s folds of obscurity
None till this day has cracked this secrecy
That indeed, establishes its inscrutability.
The childhood and teen-age bestow fun
With lots and lots of time and dynamism
But what pinches most every youngster
Is an empty pocket that steals the revelry.
The grown-up man has abundant energy
And his wallet ever puffed-up with cash
Is nevertheless miserable and despairing
For, he has truly no time for fun and frolic.
When a man grows old, he is tormented
Then lacks energy that keeps him worried
Has enough of time for leisure and holiday
With purse that is brimming with currency.
This is true story of life of all individuals
With no worthwhile solution to set it right
Everyone have to suffer this predicament
Alas! There is no escaping from this plight.
The Wallachian fields of yore,
had such a prestigious decor.
Hanging corpses with his skill,
thirsting only for bloody thrill.
Crucifixes near a soulless heart,
fields of bodies displaying art.
Scorching the earth each crusade,
Islam cursing his torturous blade.
Cordial visits of clueless guests,
sharing ideas with the noblesse.
Later slicing their fattened sacks,
sharpening his broad stone axe.
There were nights never spoken,
gnashing teeth and bones broken.
Feeding more on their inscrutability,
severing limbs of purest nobility.
Rape and murder never repelled,
absolute grandeur from titles held.
Blackness ruled his ruthless mind,
the reaper unleashed on mankind.
Tyrant of destruction resting nigh,
earth consuming the hellish sky.
Blissful irony that never failed,
Vlad the impaler forever impaled.
She was crouched
semi collapsed
no one could touch her
a fire of dignity
would raise from her feet
to lift the line of her chin
determination etches new lines
worry brought
the sweat pig headed pain
corrugating furrows
soldiering on
striking and slashing
at every obstacle
till time had no mind
for her pride
and the spectre
that dogged every fall
every twitch
each scrap of scoundrel death
then her eyes fired
when her body could not
her spirit never diminished
even as she jumped up
to brush poppies in heaven
radiant inscrutability
she was ready
for the next campaign
and leapt
—-
dignity made wings
that now,
soar the stars
in one breath
liberation
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