The life of the dutiful kind

Version 2

Earlier I turned the corner, the sleepy morning had casts its fog
embracing the buildings, concealing the rivers and folding its breath
around those men and creatures who’d already risen to go find their chores.

I tightened the collar around my neck, and wondered how I could hardly remember those warm days that just had flown by, when sunrays tickled the earth to cough up the crop, and a dog that lolled in a bed of grass. The present blurred my sight, I had lost the vision of bygones and past.

“Press on, press on!”, a wind gust was urging, “life lies before you and regret’s left behind”.

I crossed the street, a figure flitted by.  A life just like mine:
joy and family, sadness and work. No sooner come, it had already gone,
and of none to no importance to me.
One day we’ll both be dead.

“Others will follow and look to the future”, the river was chuckling, when spring and summer still lie ahead”.

I shivered and shuddered; The cold or the thought? Not sure if the that water
under the bridge looked alluring for a moment or two.
I quickened my step, I pierced through the mist, and focused hard to conjure up a sun.

“No dutiful life is dire and vain”, the leaves started rustling, “you still have your autumn; and snow is too far.”

A spark in the Rainbow

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Had longed to hear the colour’s song
had searched for substance in the light
had called the stars for comfort’s sight

but none so far had given way
so my heart’s howls would all allay.

Was tensed with worries of the bolt
was lost for darkness in my steps
was pained for gloom in all respects

but none so far had reached its aim
that this and all was not in vain.

Had borne the thoughts like cracks of dusk
had carried stones in head and soul
had dragged these bones as piles of coal

but none so far had come to ease
the fear of that futility’s breeze.

But when I turned my glance outside
and there, it was – undoubtedly bright

A rainbow touchdown in my yard.

(…no answers yet, if just a spark)

The eternal transcience

IMG_0460

 

 

 

Little petal’s white on the grass
a stain in time.
They have been thrown – simply to pass

Noble peacock’s call in the grove
a plea in haste.
They have been reared – only to rove

Tender lamb’s black on the green
a flash in life.
They have been bred – plainly to wean

Gentle mother’s tears on the face
a cry in gloom.
They have been sent – purely to brace

Greater grief will lapse in season
but leave a trace.
They have been cast  – surely with reason

The ballet of a lonely poet

Sculpture A. Tallil

Sculpture A. Tallil

Words that tumbled through head & meadows
were randomly danced in sound & in echoes
there wasn’t a score or a note to be followed
then why does it feel but clumsy & hollowed?

One of the days, I swore, it would change
then days became but years in a range
my shoulders slumped with burden of times
my age was counted in strokes & in dimes

Could I have betrayed the truth and the real?
Could I have reshaped the spin of the wheel?
I wonder most & on every corner
why others succeed when I am a mourner.

I fret, bewail, do stretch & bemoan
senseless it seems; the fate’s to be worn.

Absurdity of an ordinary existence

IMG_0436

I

The rains of eyes have left a stream;
the thoughts of morn upset the mist

II

I’ve lost my footsteps in the mud;
have searched the skies and found but void;
believes and truths have overturned

III

The bark of dog proclaims new light;
a virgin breeze affects the ridge;
a noble drop commends the seed;
small hopes pervade the rays of dawn

IV

I choke until I breathe again

 

Nostalgia on an automn’s day

IMG_0299Septemberwings
they bring the chill
to pull off summertired leaves
to suck the breath off warmer lakes

I learned the seasons by my heart
they know on how to play their part
as stars wipe out the evening glow
then chased by sun with light in tow

Automngasp
it brings the mists
to stroke off all the wilted vines
to push the birds towards the South

I gathered years in broken jars
locked them far behind soul’s bars
as age removes the trace of youth
followed by the aches of truth

Eveningsilence
it brings the dusk
to cover up the dog day’s heat
to tell the fields they now must shiver

I sailed through time on borrowed boats
forgot to look for beacon’s coasts
as people loot and leave my sorrows
replacing old for new tomorrows

Requiem for Fugacity

IMG_0095a rip in the haze
a split in the rays
a seed in the bloom
a room in the womb
a print in the cloud

so not
to
end
in a
grievous
shroud

one drop in the air
one line in a prayer
one seat in a town
one gem in a crown
one truth in a lie

so not
to
end
in a
rueful
sigh

we deal with life’s board
to lift off the sword
that hangs as a threat
and tend to forget
what is our lot

to
matter
at
all
or
probably not

Idle Curse of a Pretentious Broad

IMG_0105Poison seeping from my bones
dripping into convenient veins
beguiling stomach, heart and brain
till dust and rust are left to call

No hunger nor ache
no sickness nor chain

I have a roof and people to love
a work to pursue, a talent to hug
my mind is not shut
my body not bent

There should be no poison
to savage my soul

Luxury problems,
vanity fair,
when I should be dancing
like Sundays in May

Sculpture © A.Tallil