Friday, November 30, 2007

Revenge- A realization( just some wandering thoughts strewn together)



Burning and bubbling, the volcano smokes,

The lava of revenge in its bowels does writhe.

To come and burn the outside folks,

And cut their lives with the sharpest scythe.

A man’s mind must hence be pure,

To keep the sizzling lava asleep.

For if he is even a bit unsure,

Then he might change to make a stone weep.

The dark spots will then turn darker,

His thoughts will turn towards evil.

Vengeance will be his only marker,

Be ready to do anything for that he will.

Haven shall be the lost faith,

Seek he must with hope his tool.

If found, his soul is saved from being a wraith,

And his emotions wisely will he rule.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

FATE’S PLAY


Glasses empty upon the table,

In the bar did symbolize,

The state of him, whose tale is a fable,

Which as he sang began to traumatize.

He was a child happy and care free,

With his parents, his life went smooth.

He graduated and climbed the lover’s tree,

Now his life became a dangling tooth.

In their love both of them did dream,

Like a starved child licking an ice cream.

Like ripples that go-fast when stone is pelted,

Their dream also like the ice cream had melted.

For the girl had met a tragic end,

As her car did crash the next day.

I felt sad for my drunken friend,

On whose life the cruel fate did play.

He did not stop with that sad note,

It seemed as though he had more to tell.

Now he told of the girl in the boat,

Who rescued him when into the sea he fell.

He had wanted to die with his lover’s fall,

However, fate did give him another girl to love.

His savior became his partner at ball,

They wanted to be like a boxer and his glove.

They took a trip to a holy place,

With the thought of putting their mind at peace.

There sudden violence grew strong like a mace,

All they could do was hide behind a tree.

Yet a bullet was aimed at his chest,

His savior took it between her breasts.

She fell with the grace of a ballerina,

Making the man an unstrung veena.

Thus from that day he drank,

The ale that taught a liar truth.

Refusing to sink like a wreck’s plank,

He went on with his life in solitude.

Ending his tale he got up and left,

Forever of love was he bereft.

When I went to sleep, I did hear,

In my mind his voice, that summoned a tear.

S.Anand