After setting the sun rises again


With

a smile on your lips
a dagger underneath
fingers clasped tightly
around the hilt slyly
you let me in

PostCategoryIcon

Owning up to it

A life fit for a king
a song fit for a sing
we all dream

No matter how poor
no matter how sore
we all want more

How do we stop
how do we drop
staying on the top

where do we find
peace from this grind
a calm within the mind

rummage, dig, rake
let the ugly surface
let it
evaporate into nothingness

Could you be?
as deep as the sea
as rooted as the tree
as dark as a starless night
as cruel as the knife
as gossipy as the Meerkat
as broken as a door latch

I think you could
but I doubt it
I seriously doubt it
because you’d never own up to it

Image by www.deviantart.com

Broken


Cracks and pieces
fragmented and crippled
the world
lies in shambles
broken
PostCategoryIcon

and while the sky sadly weeps

Somewhere above
the jagged mountains
in the east,
the sky weeps
weeps because
the jarring convoy
of people below
do not see
the truth
PostCategoryIcon

On the brink of an apocalypse

 

My gentle respite
safest of havens
my past
my origin
my sleepy little
hometown
it used to be

Puddled roads and
over-stuffed drains
monsoon rains
rush like the river
gush like the river
on the pock-marked road
carrying sins
carrying curses
diseases and
obscenities
PostCategoryIcon

For Love’s Sake

Love for love’s sake
you dedicate
to another
it’s needless
PostCategoryIcon

Tags


No Tag Available

Share This


Facebook
Twitter

 

Ode to Blåjungfrun The Blue Maiden

Wrote this poem to express my awe and fascination for Blåjungfrun or The Blue Maiden, a bewitching island arising out in the middle of the vast Kalmar Channel, an island that is closely associated with witchcraft and sorcery. This long awaited trip to the island was most fulfilling and the experience was unforgettable.

I have been to a sacred place of magick*
and felt a myriad of pulse,
quivering from the core of its granite heart,
finding a passage, thus finding me.
Ageless stories floating in the wind,
of hunters and warriors
of witches both black and white.
That which the sea shapes
into most confounding contours
must be older than age itself.
PostCategoryIcon

Tags


No Tag Available

Share This


Facebook
Twitter

 

Housemaids and Mobile Phones

This is a light poem I wrote some time ago to bring up the inevitable tension between housemaids and mistresses. While on one hand, you think you are being very generous when you hand a mobile phone to your housemaid, on the other hand, you are not at all mentally prepared to see her indulge in it. These days mobiles come equipped with playlists and you can fill it up will all the songs you like at a minimal cost. Thus if your housemaid is one great music lover, doomed are your days, because you have already lost her to the profound world of Bollywood songs. Calls coming in at night and you hear it because, she has not yet learnt to switch her mobile to the silent mode. The smell of burnt dinner reaches you when you find her happily learning how to text. All that is left of you then, is one seething, cursing, mumbling bitter person under the weight of unwashed dishes, burnt food and layers of dust gathered on every flat surface.
PostCategoryIcon

Nothing is Alright (Lyrics)

This a song dedicated to Ben, a figment of a person who resides in the corner of my head. I feel sorry at the way things are for him but he really is an epitome of a malcontent human being. A serious whiner :)

Why can’t I just be alright
Why can’t I just break a fall
No I can’t remember it all
how i came to be where i am
PostCategoryIcon

Forsaken

Once again, a poem has been inspired by one of the most fascinating characters of  the television series Vampire Diaries.  He is the ruthless, heartless and purely pernicious older brother of Stephen Salvatore. Damon Salvatore is completely devoid of any conscience, at least not until he arrives at Mystic Falls. As the serial unfolds he does show some really wonderful redeeming qualities but my poem is about another time. The character of Damon Salvatore is entirely irredeemable as Milton’s Satan in Paradise Lost and yet one cannot help feeling sympathetic towards him. An uncontested dark prince of his own right but he is hunted too.
PostCategoryIcon

Yoshay Lama

I welcome you warmly to my blog. This is the resting place of most of my creative work. This blog consists of book reviews, articles, poems, mere reflections and excerpts from my stories.

Please feel free to read and comment. I appreciate my readers tremendously.

Follow Me on Pinterest

Bloglovin

 

    bloglovin    bloglovin
© Yoshay's Blog. All Rights Reserved.