The Silver Blade

The glittering sword in his hand
Was held higher than his head
Shone like some celestial silver blade
As through the woods he sped
Riding on his robust Arab stallion.

Fearless and full of conviction
He had won many a battle
And hearts and souls of men
Bedside stories of him were told
To children in the hope
That they would become as bold
Women died to be with him
When he had time for them.

Today he was on a warpath
He needed to settle a score
Men who did not deserve to live
Should tread on this earth no more
Immortal was he who lived in dreams
And in love and respect of the masses
Hence this silver blade would taste blood
Of the clan that scorched their lasses.

God willing, he would defeat them all
A fearless man amongst a million so small
He was born to stand deliriously tall.

 

 

Note: Names are of little importance. History has it that some men were taller than others.

Nurture me

Let me back
Into your heart,
Let me stay so close
That we never part.

I know you try
Very very hard,
To wean me away from you,
You try the best
To make up issues and
Be at your bitchiest best,
Even to humiliate me,
To show me the door
But I will not go away again
For nowhere without you
Feels like home.

For a fault somewhere
Down the dizzy line,
You sent me so far away,
I know how hard now
You have been trying,
Its like you have joined
Some acting classes,
Or are into revenge lessons,
For causing me pain,
But then you forget,
That  am a man amongst men.

You forget that
I live by my perseverance,
Even in daily life
With so many bones broken,
And body under knife many a time,
I live in physical pain,
And yet life itself,
As it should be is not there
Without your presence
I am a lonely man in a fair.

So for me
Quitting was never an option,
And will never be,
Life without you
Seems to be
No reason to live,
Or be at ease with my soul,
For you are my alter soul,
I know we are one,
Do not kill me,
Nurture me, love me
Have me and keep me.

Let me back
Into your heart,
Let me stay so close
That we never part.

Note:  This poem is inspired by the words shared by a close friend. Circumstances sometimes tend to dominate and one may be pushed away for a while, but if the love really love he finds his way back... 'Home is where the heart is....Let me home.'

The Waiting Cake

He was crazy about me
But I thought he was just another irritating bee
One day he got so close
I could feel his breath on my nose
Friendship I did not mind
And so I was carefully kind
He invited me on a date
It was his birthday he said at the gate
He would wait for me to come
Cake cutting otherwise would be none.

I forgot the date and day
Since he was not a part of my way
I never saw him again
But it caused me no pain
I forgot all of it and went on with life
Ten years later, wiser and more mature
I was in the same town after ages
I heard a knock on my door every night
But there was no one to be seen on sight
I thought it was strange and odd
Couldnt figure out on how to prod
Until one day when I lost my way around.

Driving round a bend my car took a sway
I was out in minutes and drenched in the rain
Not a living being could the surrounding claim
Fear gripped my heart as I stepped forward
And I knocked the door hard like a coward
The door swung open on its own accord
Not a soul had tread this dwelling in ages
I was sure of that as I took in the discoloured images
Dark though it was I spotted the table in the centre
The cake stood there with unlit candles like a blunder.

Then I spotted the knife right there
And beside it was the ghost of the boy
Who stilled in time waiting for me on his birthday
My horror knew no bounds as he looked at me thrilled
His eyes shone so bright that I was grilled
Ugly, sinister and monsterly was he
A long dead man, absolutely ghostly
His intensions I knew would be as gory
I was already as good as stone-dead
Even as he carried me in his arms
And walked toward the table
That for ten years had been laid.

Note: We take things for granted many a time. Most of the time we never realize or give a thought to what it may do to the other person. This dark poetry of sorts brings out one extreme of such a situation...