poetry

Streams

In the middle of the dark night,

Her eyes woke up to streams gushing down those plump cheeks;

That tinge of red brighter,

Heat soaring through her ears,

Her head a furnace,

A volcano at the hem of eruption;

Fists clenched to breaking point,

Flesh tearing away

And nimble fingers breaking;

Then a shriek so loud,

Compelling heavens to shed a drop or two;

All she needed was a hand on those shoulders,

A pat on the back for triumphs,

A smile to share her joy;

And she would offer her shoulders

For tears to be shed on,

A warm hug to console for defeats

Moist eyes to share sorrow;

She had so much to give

Too much to ask for, perhaps!

A fragile heart writhed in pain,

As howls of desperation filled the air

The skies roared in inexplicable helplessness,

And streams gushed down, yet again!

poetry

Nightmare

It is dark where I live,

I have not felt anything in a long time

Just squalor gathered all around,

Mice nibbling at my toe nails,

Insects feeding on my skirt;

But that small little window

Up there, with grills

Some light that visits very morning,

Holy chants, flowers and incense;

I see the twilight

Birds chirping, returning home;

Children walking, talking,

Swinging their arms, teasing each other;

Their innocent sing song ways.

Silver nights, thereafter

And the same old – porridge, stories and lullabies;

As darkness settles, I gasp, gulp

A knot in my throat, oh!

The night closes on me,

Four walls of filth charging with might,

I want to shout; parched chords struggle

Then, a sudden flash of light,

And a warm touch

“It’s alright, darling! I’m right here.”

I throw my arms around the slender torso

“Ma!”

I sigh in relief.