Showing posts with label wounded. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wounded. Show all posts

Thursday, 29 September 2016

A Tempest Of Sorts



Wind of the solitude,
Streamed for a breeze,
The calm bequeaths me,
As I envision the storm.

There lying before me,
A child yells for his mother,
As people huddle,
For they have lost their sole will.

It has struck fast,
A tempest of sorts,
Taking away our land,
And away our very brethren.

Breeze after breeze,
Hitting harder as time passes on,
Oh! please stop my Lord,
For we cannot move on.

Into the eye of the storm,
I hear wails on and on,
As I see people getting flung around,
Oh my! What is this state we are on?

Oh! Ravicious wind please smooth on,
Please forgive us if we have done wrong,
Leave for the far away,
As it is hard for us to leave all.

Trashing our ancestral land,
We cannot tread on,
Because connected are we with this fine land,
That has given us our own.

As time passed on,
And the dust swept by,
I then saw what was left behind,
Heaps of bodies mistaken as trash,
Thrown askew in despairs form.

Ah! This is not the dream I envision,
For in my sight and my vision,
I see a future of peace,
Not drugged with misery.

But alas! Man doth art know thy mistakes,
The path thy treaded on,
Briddled with mistakes and further storms,
Being unable to conquer all.

Try to unite as one,
Cultivate this harmonious symphony,
Be one with nature's form,
For then you would hear this heart's beat.

For then you would hear the nature's beat,
That has skipped through generations,
To be one with those destined,
With a green thumb and a beauty of a mind,
To be one with those destined,
To save what is left of a crumbling heart.

Thursday, 5 May 2016

100 Faces




The man with 100 faces,
Passes through the town in a daze,
As people enquire about thee,
Will they find no history.

The face changes time to time,
Situations arise and subside,
No one knows your true face,
Or your murderous gaze.

Fickle or sweet thy decide,
As he changes his face,
Like a scene from a dream,
Fast and ever changing is his face.

A sneer behind that infamous mask,
Plotting for the next act,
Smiling and deceptive at all times,
Until the tiger has pounced and attacked.

Sweet you may feel he is,
Soft hearted you may say,
When truly frozen is he,
Iced from head to toe.

It as hardships thy say,
That changed him into the beast,
But pray tell innocence,
Are thou a simple being mutated.

As the 100 faces he possess,
Turn around and escape thy wonder,
Is it a poor soul or a vicious beast,
Behind this sweet mask that he possess.