Lost Portrait

She sat on the white sands

Of a lonely, get away beach

Keeping her chin rest upon

On folded legs, she gazed

At the symphony of waves

She shared her thoughts,

With the meditating waves

She received vibe of peace

 To calm her exuberance

About a secret romance   

Naughty breeze dillydallied

With her short beach drape

While the shallow lagoon

In her backdrop, sought

Impressions of her beauty

Voyeuristic sun smiled at her

While portraying her curves

Precisely on the sand canvas

She surrendered herself to sun

For a golden tan, for a surprise

She waited for the splashy sunset

To welcome the charming moon

To lit her evening with her man

   

Drowning Bridge

It stood tall for years

Slicing down the distance

Meeting the ends of two hearts

With its panels across the destiny

Sending the messengers to exchange

The news and goodwill

It grew in stature as the symbol of bonding

It saw the fondness blooming like spring

It saw the summers and winters of friendship

It saw the cajoling romance and bitterness of fights

It hoped to remain as the rope between them forever

But, one moment of madness or craziness of fate

It sank slowly, without catching fire, without screams

Silence mourned its slow drowning on one side

Noisy memories kept yelling at it to hold on other side

The remnants of that bridge remain floating

Hoping for a miraculous renaissance 

Image Couresy: Blog Carnival  Thursday Tales 

Welsh Traitors

They roam right after the winter

Grazing the overgrown lawns

Of welsh valleys

Unfazed by the onlookers gazing

They are the darlings of misty Wales

They outnumber the welsh speakers

But, once we cross the Severn bridge

And if we find one of them

Grazing the English grass

My pony tailed welsh friend would yell

You traitor, what are you doing in England?

You are welsh, you go back to homeland

It’s just sheeps, and all they care is grass

But they are welsh traitors in England 

Images Courtesy  : Thanks to rightful creators 

A summer day at Newport

The 3 am early sunrise

River birds act as alarm clock

Day grows longer living its dream

Summer sunshine a treasure in a cold land

Glitters the souls that seek the fun of holidays

Hangouts with friends at the Newport city centre

Watching the buzz of crowd like curious kids

Listening to the street musicians soul tunes

The squirrels of the Belle Vue Park

Wander around the trees and greens

With no fear to the visitors

To find the it’s favorite nuts

Their acts reminds puppet shows

Amusing the kids who play around

Try to catch them out of curiosity

The grand oldies warm up with bowling

On the greens up the hill

Life froze when I sat on the bench

And gazed at the floral arrangement at the square

As the dawn refused to grace the lives

My wait for the stars and the night beauty of river usk

Led me to the walkway along the river

An old man taught me to pluck the chestnuts

From the chestnut tree near the sitting area

When I sit in company of the river

Dreams flew like the breeze from the river

And I walk back to the harrow road

When the lights on the footbridge spruce to life 

Images courtesy : Google images and rightful creators 

Rivalry

“Life is too short,

 It’s easy to hide in the cellars of revenge,

Raring to bruise with armors to spit fire

And spill the soil with blood of the fallen

 it’s easy to avoid the flags raised for peace,

 Today, you have the right, as you are hurt

Tomorrow, who knows,

The very thought of agony may be worthless,

When the very enemy you fight within

Stop existing in this world

That will be your time,your success

Victorious moments for your pride

You enjoy it, until you lose the adrenaline

Your enemy may go bust towards eternity,

Miles away from your vision,

Miles away from your silence and roars

 Forever,

And you may never get to see again,

Then the rivalry, the agony, the feeling of revenge,

 It will all become vogue,

 Like a pile of damaged currency notes,

with no value to serve anyone

With the conquered patches of parched territories

laying bare to tell the tales of sorrow

You can rest for a while

Until another ruthless mercenary rise

To challenge you to the brink "

Images : Thanks to rightful creators 

Silence

Song sung by a chorus of benumb heartS

Intended for the drivers in a savage safarI

Lost in an alley of false pride and hardselL

Expressed to be heard aloud amidst noisE

Nips of misery, blazing tall with convictioN

Challenges the rival to address the arseniC

Emerged from bruises of emotional carnagE

Images : Thanks to rightful creators.

Promised land

We live in a world with manipulated justice

Ruled by dictators, with brute force

Groomed by greedy power mongers to vote

With manifestos written in golden lies

We know what we will get in return

Corruption, exploitation, and stagnation

Yet, we remain silent robots, with all anger

But,in a spring of change, some daredevils uprooted 

The corroded corridors of power with a wish for freedom 

We have a modern, but muted League of Nations

That remains blind when bombs dismantle civilizations

And dumb, when people cry loud for help and justice

Defenders of democracy, created new colonies

After massacring innocent societies to gift freedom

They installed puppet authorities to auction the resources

To the ever greedy behemoth corporations of Wild West

They sell arms to neighbors, and foes within

They reap profits while their bullets and shells splash blood

Millions ran for their lives, to find a promised land for refuge

To lead a peaceful life, with assurance of waking up alive

But they are the unwanted burden for the economies of benefits

People risks drowning in depths of chilly seas

Evades the scorching heat of the deserts

Thorn filled paths of unknown terrains

To engage in a proxy battle with eagles waiting to nab

To prevent the souls from entering promised land

This is the fate of refugees, asylum seekers, or illegal migrants

Lucky if they make it to the safe shore

Phasing through the camps of  asylum 

If not, await deportation back to the world of despair

If there is peace, no one will leave the paradise

When you can’t give them the peace and safety

While creating dilapidated hells for them afar

Exploiting their resources in front of their eyes

Without giving prosperity or hope

People will keep flocking the borders

I wonder, how these modern nero’s play fiddle

With utmost peace  

While the war games they played

Comes back to haunt them in flocks

Stretching the limits of their own economies 

Images: Thanks to rightful creators