Innate shadows passed me by under
A dark unlit starless sky
Gaping mouths and hollow eyes
No response to my cries
Adrift above and everywhere
Lost souls of whom I shall not fear
Unmanned corpses lacking bone
Shapeshifting follow me home
I close my eyes they disappear
Oppressive presence overbear
And why I ask do they seek me
I alone please let me be
Or is it that I am the one
Who longs for darkness to be undone
I carry no light or no knife
I tarry along within the night
A lost and lonely host
Too many a ghoul and a ghost
Heralded by the death of others
From dusk till dawn sending shudders
To fearsome souls wandering around
In the darkness like circus clowns
Categories:
overbear, allusion,
Form: Free verse
After the heavy rain of bloodiest war
Broken directions are in front where to go
Nihilist eyes of visionary screen of boo
Neither life nor death of the rest of war
Victims are overbear to entomb the past
How it is ignored had the war of last
Victors insist to laugh and to cast
Crimes against humanity will not blast
Without minority called it is motherland
Without symbolic father called it is fatherland
Way of rhythm seems to be a grave land
War of victory celebrates in barren land
The capital runs trampling over the bodies of poor
Profit and commission are poured to the power
A Day today life of fate runs necessarily in low gear
Post war condition that is timeless, this my dear
Udaya R. Tennakoon
Categories:
overbear, dark, freedom, grief, peace,
Form: Rhyme
Bleak heavens overbear this roiling ship
As on a rail, does know its destiny
Quick as truth let loose from cast-off lover’s lips
Parts great tidal mounds and speeds her way
I recollect my precious little child
Abandoned now to its maternal care
How I will miss her innocent sweet smile
And send my wishes to her on the air.
Four black horses straineth hard in April’s mud
Their polished carriage wheels are firmly trapped.
In Waterloo’s cold soil still rust with blood
war souvenir’s, a cap, an inexpensive map,
A sword plucked from a Nero’s grasping hand.
Sent home, with mock disdain, to England's
shores, that feed me now with news as mother’s
milk poisoned by myself in accident.
Categories:
overbear, adventure, angst
Form: Iambic Pentameter