In the era of running for Instagram followers, try creating your own social media.— % &

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THE LAST BATTLE— % &

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AIN'T THOU PROUD (SHAKESPEAREAN SONNET)

Ain't thou proud? Thy motherland serves 'em all,
With a tinselled heart and resplendent soul,
Hear 'em hail; chorusing loud as they call,
And fete with delight; a reposeful goal.

Swaying tricolour with the foreign winds,
Proclaims triumph to fete and dance in glee.
A little nation with mammoths behind,
Now reins yon moorlands and each unquiet sea.

Neighbours all helpless to assist their men,
Raise bare hands as a consent to defeat.
And 'neath brute shellings and fiery rains,
For days they starve with wounded arms and feet.

Proud I am with a heart that yearns to speak,
My country stands strong amid winds too bleak.— % &

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QUEST FOR ATARAXIS

Ah! That I'd but in dreams,
Sought thy visage for years and eons,
To heal good men from anguish'd moans,
And purge ill ones in thy pious streams.

Ireful blares; I'd learned from ages,
Can ne'er appease a noble mind,
And all that's gory, bleak and blind,
Heave entombed as bygone pages.

Greatest wonders e'er so made,
Art but fruits of a placid soul.
Battles ne'er can sate a goal,
And offer jubilant roads to tread.

I've seen 'em fight for lands and brooks,
Perhaps a baffled quest to win.
I've seen 'em frown and ne'er grin;
And prance in pride as triumphant dukes.

Antagonistic storms they face,
Yet ne'er for peace they yearn,
Civilisations decay and burn,
And a day turn into a departed race.— % &

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THE TREASONIST— % &

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TRIANGULAR AMOUR

Amour,
Beguiling, tempting,
Pristine, lustful, euphonous,
Three souls; savouring amorous yearnings,
Triangle, embellished with love,
Thriving in delusional
Atmosphere.— % &

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THE LOST NIGHTINGALE— % &

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LOVE IS IN THE AIR

Here 'neath the starry sky my heart awaits,
The blushing orb floats witness to the night.
When will thou come defeating abject fates?
And drench me whole with thine amorous light?

Thy beaut blinds me of all the glimpses bright,
Yet the night seems bacchanal; in thine arms.
Dancing trees keep dancing sottish; the night
Keeps savouring the essence of thy charms.

O the silhouette prancing in delight,
Wherefore art thou waiting afar? O girl
Come closer amid the winds of the night,
And melt within me as a blushful pearl.

This man ofcourse for a word from thy lips,
Perches keen o'er thorny leas.
And waits long years with frozen hips,
To hear thy aubades within the tender breeze.

This tinselled bowl brimming in elixir drops;
Waiting asunder from the mortal crust,
Shall certainly arouse our sleeping crops,
And make us breathe in the zephyrs of lust.

And so tenderly in thy tepid bosoms,
I shall savour each moan thou make.
And the night must witness amour that blossoms
Bright with the new daybreak.— % &

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POETRY

Poetry isn't about rhymes or rhyming two lines,
It's about a voice, an extremely vehement outpour,
It's about hearing the unheard,
Speaking the unspoken,
Voicing out the unvoiced.
It's about relating things around with our life,
It's about highlighting the subtle,
It's about healing the unhealed,
It's about living in reality yet weaving dreams,
It's pure, sublime and a friend for a lifetime,
Come let's celebrate poetry because each human life,
Is nothing but poetry,
Each day we live through a new verse,
That is what life is all about.— % &

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EVELYN AND ME — % &

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