Jetblack sunrise ashen, breastbone of the final dark.
My priest must leave to return to his ghostly parish.
Where traitors necks stretch down from moss to swamp.
I met the host of my companions, caught by first dawn’s watchfire dogs, waits for his beloved no more.
Oh, his Clara, I must console before chill sets too deep within bone and lung.
I will guard my deathbed promise to him, for to wipe her fair brow.
To finger her dark ringlets with ever my trigger torn hands.
Considering myself curious to love a West Indies fleshy maid.
The poked corporal would find me, on ghastly red steed to behead twice over for him, my host, and her my temptress Clara.
The belle of run through young soldiers.
Categories:
jetblack, lost love, soldier, war,
Form: Ode
Ilakkiya my love
Ilakkiya is her name
From the lips to heart she will enjoy the sweet
Breeze will come and ask her to blow
Sun will come polish her face
Many angels are her maidens
She is Ilakkiya, My love
Her jetblack hair will cover the face of moon
Her sweet red lips will cover the morning sun
She is Ilakkiya', My Love
Every daybreak her smiles spread the rays
Her walk creates new steps in the dance
Her words are borrowed by cuckoo to sing
She is Ilakkiya, My love
The charms of love start from her eyes and
pierce my heart as arrows to fill the pores
deer comes to learn how gleefully to leap
She is Ilakkiya, My love
In the corridors of her memory
I have walked five and forty years
To hear her songs of love the rest of the life
Open I shall keep my ears
Categories:
jetblack, loveheart, sweet, heart, love,
Form: Free verse