Category: Uncategorized

 

That noise irritates my stolen peace

Tide retreating revealing the thirst of rocks

Epics remain silent but not unaware

Devouring the sounds of aching hearts

Soft voice surrounds me as I pull me back

Vision now meets the plain blue horizon.

Courage it cannot be called; valour never

To access a sword to divide one’s heart

I will do it or perhaps hope I will not be called to do it

Decisions are hard, when lost remains your trust in you

compliments and nice words have no meanings for me

I turn away from wonderful descriptions about myself

But why many tasks for me? let me sleep and dream

Away sends me huddled in my arms, a shivering me

My scary thoughts, without a chance to turn back

Choice of each step worries me, nothing hides my despair

Bitter thoughts of failure, sinking down deep with no reclaim

Judge not by the shadows they turn long and short

Sometimes it zooms, but the sun alone can show it

Pure heart only trembles as it is light as a leaf.

The gates never opened for anyone, but the delivery boys

Groceries and fruits suddenly seemed to be not so available

The state fed the helpless and heard their pleading voice

In the “HEIGHTS RISING” all were striving to be humble.

 

Children bored with English, Yoga and other lessons online

Missed their cousins, the get togethers, busy malls and 7D movies

Snacks made at home, no dream of Pizza Hut visit to dine

What a loss! No picnics ! but a citizen cannot give up his duties.

 

While some women shared on Facebook; their school photos with new friends

Files and folders piled up for some; as their babies sat on potty, their phones rang.

A nurse’s mom called her on video, prayed for those in the isolation wards

Sharing news fake or not, hoping the markets to boom before the profits sank.

 

They only had a parrot for company, in a silver painted cage

Not possible to use the lift, no strength to spend on stairs, climbing.

Days remained the same; oats, fruits and medicines for their old age

The tall man brought in provisions, to help he was always willing.

 

Alone, tired of himself, closed in the room he was worried

Courage was elusive, especially when he needed it every minute

Was there a cough, that came with him along the borders he had crossed?

To keep everyone else safe he chose a long, lonely and scary wait.

 

The gym and the swimming pool lay idle, untouched, in wait

The beautiful and the strong seemed not to worry about their BMI

When the deadly virus might be hiding to get you by a bait

Then everyone has to stay indoors with a watchful eye.

 

Streets seemed unfamiliar, life uncertain as her purse grew thin

News not very reassuring, yet there showed some light in the darkness

Daily wages of a woman who ironed is not there now to feed her kin

Misfortune, a curse, travelled around he world, had not made a small mess.

 

Only a light up there in a corner, on the right side of the western block

Somewhere on the eleventh floor, where an artist might have been painting, is on

He kept looking at it, and kept guard all night, the land had put on itself a lock

It gave him strength for his duty, earn for his home, with the stars that shone.

 

What else can save the people, now in all nations of this ailing world

But personal hygiene and social distancing to be kept by all, strict

Human race now subdued by the deadly outbreak of disease covid

There is no room for arguments, only a short time for any rescuing act.

 

 

SCHOOL WAS LIKE….
By Sherin Mary Zacharia

A layered coat of dust and timeless
serenity
Serves to cover me with an ancient charm
My memorable remains lie withered in the
past
Those were the times when the fables were
read
Loved by the generations that once existed
Where are those tiny feet that moved
around the mango tree?
The ribbons fluttering in the day light bright
Rhymes no longer repeated, no babbling
heard
Coloured paper not flying in pieces
No inky pinky ponkies, no mulberry bush
Who will chase the theif? Who is the police?
Never have they sat next to each other
Nor played basket, shared juice and lunch.
The bell was dark heavyvand loud then
A key press now boots well into the new
school day
To take notes about a world that had once
thrived
With sports, dance, picnics and
get togethers
More virtual friends zoomed in to video call
Links were plenty, but the souls longed for a
warm hug.

About the migrant labourer who paints the apartments

photograph by Shreya Susan Zacharia

 

The view, real from top did not scare him

The wind strong shook only his dry brown hair

When a vacant seat beckoned, he doubted his destiny

Everything was fine, hanging by the rope to paint.

A job, an income, which made beautiful all walls

A smile, a hope in a small house distant to reach

Doors assured to open, trains set to hoot, time runs.

A virus cannot turn upside his dreams, he is sure

He worked in the sun and in rain, set to serve his Co.

A decision to hang on to the thick rope from heaven

Kindness and care all around, he kept his word to be safe

When his brothers marched towards their ends tragic

He held on and painted his life’s colours, in increasing faith

Cyclone Amphen was spiralling homewards, killer winds rise

His folks may soon need money, trouble seems to double

He held tight to the long brush as he painted

poems written for the Napowrimo event held online by the group                                 The significant league aka rejected stuff

Stolen Things

A chocolate   ball Ferrero Rocher                                                                                          But that’s because she tried to be smarter                                                                        My grandma had given me a Five Star                                                                        Now  I know she  has eaten that bar                                                                     Somedays back my small white Bounty was lost                                                           I planned revenge and ate all Lindt to the last                                                                 Sure I have stolen  many  a sweet chocolate                                                                     Did so to stop my sister from getting very fat                                                              Guylian is always her favorite I know                                                                                  I was ready to trade it for a  Toblerone or  so                                                                    But our love for  each other is  the sweetest                                                          Always we try to   give each other our very  best

Reflection

Tears erupt from my eyes                                                                                               when not able to find myself                                                                                              as I search in the mirror                                                                                                        hanging on the wall.                                                                                                                    This is not at all my image in front of me.                                                                         Many hours i stare without a wink                                                                                 Mist covers my reflection with an umbrella                                                                     No! It is not me, where is the real me?                                                                          This is not the self that really I am.                                                                                       How do I dig deep into my mind and                                                                       discover my true inner self?                                                                                                   Wiping off the dust, dirt and grime                                                                                        Brushing away the cobwebs of sad thoughts,                                                       l          lost confidence and crumbled self esteem                                                                   Then my true self will be revealed                                                                                          my glowing visage and golden heart will be reflected.

Windows

Windows of my room let in the soft rays of the rising Sun                             Waking me up with the noise of the bicycle bells                                                 Busy men on scooters                                                                                                                 some speeding away on cars

My window reminds me of my worthless thoughts,                                                     wingless travelling into the sky.                                                                                             The cat sneaks out through the window                                                                             Her tail up like a free digit one                                                                                             Hot air blows in, it has asked not my permission                                                           Clouds want to fight, shout and flash lights                                                                      My window throws on me drops of joy                                                                              Tree tops high, close to heaven swing my prayers up                                             Winged friends flying south,                                                                                                   my dreams I wish could fly with them                                                                                 The moon peeks in from behind the coconut trees                                                        The yellow light illuminates the street outside                                                             My windows shut goodnight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Act sensibly with all the responsibility

our life is neither ours nor theirs.

we are forming the links in a chain

percentiles flicker graphs vary

the numbers change randomly

embraced tight pulled together

engaged in things good and bad

there remain some surprises some accidents

but the chain is never broken

for your right actions you found friends

who told right stories, fought evils together

found homes for the homeless

made followers to feed the hungry

giving only goodness to the next

but greed fixed another link

hatred made longer  chains

carless are the covid chains

that shake hands and wash them not

with every link broken does life thrive?

chains are needed to support to care

stronger ones, to pull up our fallen fellow beings

the war is never fought alone

but with each warrior ready

How many hours more for the Sun to go down

under the expanse of the  roaring sea

pulling over it the thickness of night?

How many hours left as the moonlight polishes

everything clear and  bright

to tell the world  it is perfect?

How many hours remain

before this day passes off into history?

It takes with it memories hard and

opens  slowly the blossoms  scented.

How much time will it take

by which the morning rays befall on earth

turning warm the moist blades of grass?

How long to wait

To hear the bell ring and

my name being called

for the act that is  to begin on the wide stage

set under the white clouds.

The scene I do not know

estranged from the plot as the curtain rises

cannot morph myself into the role.

My red gown missing

gleaning my costumes from the wall

they cover not my inner self

dare not hide the real me

unable to slip into the character of  another human

far away from my rituals.

How many more moments to spend

searching the strings that have tied me here

and  cut them off.

Let the lights glow!

To my wish , set me free.

 

Doors  restrict only those  that move

locks  imagine your thoughts will not flee.

A fine  dress  waits  silently  to  enter the banquet hall

from the days it stayed in a cold corner of the cloth rack.

Were sentences hiding in the pages

as words refused the escape to pen  from the soul.

Fingers  round the tool that create the mind’s reflection

paused  never

wanting to throttle each letter birthed anew.

Smearing a feeling  on paper is incomplete

like a photograph of a rose

that cannot give  the sweet smell.

Words  struggle to  be true to the heart

which feels  and each emotion sets out on a journey long

all  the way straight down to the pen

held captive by the fingers.

Sedated by the  rocking movement of the wrist

words forget their way to  the paper

where they are to  get imprinted

and sleep off  in the pen like  a baby.

Let words sleep

as only sleep can  bring dreams

without them  more meaning is impossible

to be given to words that no longer remember

what they had meant.