Ghostly Christmas...

This poem was written after listening to a Serbian acquaintance of mine. He narrated how his country had problems with war and how dank Christmas would be out there.. So this poem is actually inspired by that..As we enjoy Christmas, we must spare a thought for those who are too grief-stricken to celebrate Christmas and whose lives are so uncertain that they are not sure whether they will still be alive when the day ends.




Memories jingling of church bells,
Scatterings distant, of broken glass,
Lauding harmony of ever gone choral songs,
Ghostly Christmas; visited my war struck town.

Hushed together in cellars stone cold,
Humming carols with a mind forgone,
Counting shots of mad rebels treading south,
Another Christmas, marched in my war torn town.

Crevices revealing ghostly pines afar,
A moment; eyes saw gay spectral lights.
Imaginations silvered flashed; of good times,
Christmas came again to my war stripped town.

Berries iced blue on oak with mistletoe,
Longed to bless kisses of the jubilant young,
Alas! Nay shall this dream come alive again,
Christmas reigned again in this strife land.

Shots reverberating in ears for long,
From distant bonfire of guerilla wars,
Drunken soldiers discarded hymnal songs,
Welcomed Christmas to my war torn land.

Death wrapped in guise of Santa’s gift,
Awaited us all beneath some Christmas pine,
Abandoned our manger Lord ye again,
Yet Christmas celebrates in this land today.

The Magic of Winter...

Fiery yellows and bright oranges,
Hallmarks of the sultry autumn..
Slowly give way to a heavenly white.
Replacing the days too bright.
Cold winds fondle the cheek
A luminous fire, the living room adorns
Snow falls peacefully down
While a somnolent moon looks on.

The world wears a glittering veil
All embellished with flakes of snow
Mornings chilly as the sun sleeps on
Crystals in place of dew drops at dawn.
Flocks of birds flying in the skies above,
And some staying behind to face tough days
Blossoms concealed till others emerge
The landscape varied in bountiful ways.

The evenings brooding and beautiful too
The deserted streets sans the kids’ games
The swing swinging alone in the empty park
The intensity of winter leaves its mark.
The sun will shine again, with vigour renewed
A new season will fresh hopes bring
Winter, with its snow and romance
Will give way to a beautiful spring.

The Emptiness in a Lover...(Haiku No. 4)

Barren I feel dear,
Dry as a bone here I stay,
My soul aches for ye!

Prayer at break of dawn...(Haiku No.3)

Birds chirp on the trees,
Waiting for the morning sun,
Takes my mind to Thee !

My longing (Haiku No. 2)

Rustling of the trees,
In mirth of the gentle breeze,
Makes me yearn for ye !

The Sunflower smiling said...(Haiku No.1)

Haiku is a Japanese lyric form that has seventeen syllables, arranged in 3 lines of 5/7/5 syllables each; usually invoking an aspect of nature or the seasons (From Answers.com)

It consists of two sentences, separated by a puntuation mark, and usually, the last line holds a sort of key to the verse, a point to drive home so to speak.It is usually build around the beauty and feelings depicted by nature.






Kiss me please O sun,
As my being longs for thee,
Burn me not O please !

Victim..

My world was dark
yet I was safe
in my mothers womb I lay
I felt her warmth
I lived in her
from the beginning of my day
a foetus I was, not yet a child
yet in my mind I knew
some day I would see the world
I would be a baby new
the world I’d see
and I would grow
slowly into a man…
and later on when time would come
a family I would plan
alas! For me
I felt a chill
when suddenly my parents planned to kill me
they wanted to get rid of me
as children they did not want
"oh no!” I shouted
"I want to live
I want to be a child
I want to see your lovely world
I’ll be meek and mild!"
No one heard my cry of pain
when instruments tore at me
and in my mothers womb I was slain
now I’ll never be a child
nor the world I’ll see........

PAINT ME A PICTURE, WON’T YOU?

Paint me a picture,
won’t you?
of not images,
but words that trickle
out of your lips.
the light that shines
in your eyes,
in the dark hours.
a picture of love and
its tender shower.
the unsaid vows that
beat in the hearts.
the warmth that you
give to my veins.
the tingle in the spine,
the blush on my
cheeks.
the aura around me,
that on me,
you bestowed.
the moment, when the
heart missed a beat,
and the window left open,
through which my
heart flew away
to you.
the moment, when I lost
myself,
and found us.

paint me a picture, won’t you...
of the unexplained feelings
and the unleashed emotions?

but don’t pick up the brush,
and don’t mix colours in your
palette and don’t you look
for a bare canvas...

paint on my heart, my soul
and my skin...
the colours of you...
and let me be totally
tinted by your hues...

paint on me a picture,
unseen by others...
won’t you?