A Rose With A Sigh.

A Rose With A Sigh

( On the pathetic situation of Manipur)

Music! The string of life,

Melody, the doleful sister twin;

Pulsate the vibrating turmoil,

Fill my cup of joy with tears. ( Or vice versa)

Oh! Trailing moods in ecstasy,

In the meadow of wild frenzy;

Counting the colours of the rainbow forever,

Flaming hearts in distant calls.

A rose with a wailing night,

Fragrance in the icy beads;

Trodden in frozen pavements,

A winter's tale, that is music.

In your birth,

A music was heard;

In my death...........

....... a poem is born.

                                          G.K

Carta Magna

CARTA MAGNA

I love you.

Do you love me?

Yes, I love you too.

Hmm....................

A long silence.

We don't need tanks and fighters.

We don't need fighters and tanks.

My airfields, I'll dismantle, destroy, demolish.

Will make a farm instead.

Growing corns and watermelons I'll live.

Maybe someday I'll produce more and share with you.

My tank plants a plenty that you fear,

I'll make farms of it too,

Growing sweet potatoes and beans.

Maybe someday I'll produce more and share with you.

Lets make a deal.

Let the pact be signed.

The treaty is Charted.

Yet, deep down my thought,

I feel insecure. I'll spare some of my fighters.

Some of my artilleries I'll save.

I feel insecure deep down my thought.

              

                                                        G.K

A Poem Without A Rhyme

A Poem Without A Rhyme

'T is a poem, a poem without a rhyme,
Like some music without a beat,
Kingdom sans it's queens or kings,
With no rhythm, a life.

To make it amusing, I tried,
Yet trying it was to rhyme not.
And away it's beauty I took,
For if rhyme it did so,
How can it be,
A poem without a rhyme.

Senseless it may be, my poem,
But life as it is,
No beauties real for true,
No joy yet only laughter hollow;
Life, A poem without a Rhyme.

                                     G.K

Vox Clamantis in Deserto

Vox Clamantis in Deserto

(If there be any fear I fear most, I fear myself the most)

Whilst strolling down the purple moor,

Among the chilly winter fogs that eve;

I saw no men (nor any women either), along the frosty moor,

As far as my vision could perceive.

Like dancing ghouls the trees did stand,

Vicious shadowy figures of a lofty height;

It chilled my bones and froze my hand,

Like a daunted dream of a ghastly night.

Among the gusty trees, I heard a sound,( or  maybe from somewhere farer)

Startled, yet not to fear, I tried so hard;

Was that the howl of a bloody hound,

Or a piquant tune of a lonely bard?

The eerie winds brought to my numbing ear,

Sinful melancholous wails from the wild;

It rattled my ruffled soul with fear,

And left me dismayed as a lone child.

I heard cries of agony and of pain,

Oft of despair, filled with a morbid tear;

Looked for the one lamenting, yet in vain,

For I saw no soul upon, far and near.

A thought sinister came to my frightened mind,

That it was my deepest fear, I just heed;( fear from self, howsoever awkward it may seem)

For some soul I looked for, yet never did find,

Alas! It was not a cry from the wilderness,

But of my heart instead.

                                                                    G.K

The Shade Of A Lighter Green

The Shade Of A Lighter Green

In a feeling of subdued memories,

And the fragrance of that; litter'd

here and there,

In that self-seeking unconsciousness,

Of distorted and blurred images; somewhere

in the past,

Of the soaring freedom, joy and yet,

Beyond the mortal realm, unreachable by men; since

time has past,

And of the pathos, the laments of the humanists,

Midst the hallowed universal plot; music

a temporal chaos.

I cry, I weep,

But I live on...

                                                     G.K

La fée et l'enfant ( The Fairy And The Child)

The Fairy And The Child

(Pour ma chérie, afin qu'il puisse bien dormir)

Glittering crystal wings, gold smile adorned,

With a child's first laugh, A fairy 's born;

Giving hope, holding him by his hands,

Takes to a beautiful magical land.

Little child there he sees, his wee heart desire,

Soothing, like a warm comforting fire;

Away gone all worries and the pain,

That fear not he may, ever in vain.

The fairy carries him to her wonderful unknown realms,

Into that mystical land of hopes and of golden dreams;

To let you feel, what you must deem,

Without trouble, or fear.... forever as it may seem.

Yet a fairy each time ceases to live,

When you say, "In fairies I don't believe"

What else could she do, the fairy so poor,

'came a stranger, knocking at the child's door;

With a cry of agony she had to leave,

For the child, in fairies, did not believe.

All hopes withered away with the little fairy dead,

And the child cried, lowering his slumbered head;

Happy the child might have been, hopes always,

with the fairy no more, like dark nights became his vivid days.

To believe in her, is all that she asks,

To hope and to pray, isn't after all a mighty task;

But what could she do, the fairy so poor....

Became a stranger, Knocking at your door.

                                                    G.K

                                                  17-04-2013