yellow smiley emoji painted eggs
Inspiration, Legend, Love, poetry

Joyful Heart

Joyful is a human heart

aware that sorrow and joy

are two strokes of life’s art.

For the heart neither groans

nor shows any frown.

It struggles but wrestles on,

the grief of friends who are forever gone.

Heart is a traveller which dwells

in the crowd but wanders alone.

Tragedy of Oedipus
History, Legend, Literature, poetry

The Greater Tragedy Than Oedipus

Tragic Oedipus  wandered blind
In the bazaars of colorful Athens
crimson blood oozing out
from hollowed eyes. 
Cursing gods
for his fate so harsh 
carrying shame of
copulation with mother.
Strong guilt  sits heavy 
for slaying, his own father. 
Roaming from street to street
Asking same question,
“Why was I the chosen one”
Begotten out of the cursed
Womb of Jocasta 
Doomed by abhorrent 
act of Laius
In  self pity and gloating
had he forgotten of the
little boy sodomized 
Shame horror
subsequent death
Chrysippus condemned  
for acts of evil that men commit 
for which naive boys
and girls pay heavy price 
In his misfortune did he
think of young  Chrisypuss
dishonored , violated. 
Did he not ponder upon
wickedness that men carry
atrocities  for which many
Young ones are robbed
Of single drop of dignity.
Legend, life, Literature, Love, poetry

XANADU

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-

dome decree: Where Alph, the

sacred river, ran Through caverns

measureless to man Down to a sunless sea.

–Samuel Taylor Coleridge

As, I count my hours

with the endless jars’s

of poor man’s coffee,

I hallucinated about

Coleridge’s Xanadu.

May be it’s just

one meal a day or

is the opium that

Keats snorted.

As I lay bare

in grim winter

afternoon,

I see around me

a wasteland,

but I am dreaming of

Khan’s Xanadu.

History, Legend, life, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry, Self-Help, Spirtual

Devil in a Sea of Men

Disguised in the

hollow curves of

your eloquent words,

do I hear a vicious

hissing ; whispers of

a conniving heart?

Why do I visualize

a serpentine on the rock?

I’m not beguiled by

your deceptive talks.

By the tinkering of your

silver coins.

For I’ve on my hump back

burden of enough winters

to mark a

Devil in a sea of Men.

Legend, Literature, Nature

Ozymandias

PB Shelley

I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

Inspiration, Legend, Literature, poetry

The Second Coming By W.B Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

night
Legend, life, Love, poetry

Destiny

A sorcerer once looked

at my palm and held my

arm to enthrone destiny

in the deep criss-cross lines.

For I was young with crimson

blood , momentary bubble

bursted at my insolence.

The sneaky destiny flew out

of my palm and sat on a

very high wall.

“ Now what?” I asked

The sorcerer took my

destiny in his shack.

Resolute I never showed

a palm or counted stars

for Mars or Venus,

nothing is ever sealed

in gold.

Great Land
History, Inspiration, Legend, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry

The Great Land

Standing in the land of the great Apaches

Midst blooming wild poppies

and the mammoth elephant grasses,

thinking of the dream that once Martin Luther had.

May be the days of  chivalric Camelot are over,

as I heaved reclining on the grand arm chair;

vicious winds from the North gushed 

echoing footsteps of a massive feet

opening a narrow pass for the

grim shadow of Lincoln to flicker by,

leaving behind trails of the Fallen Soldiers

on the path once trodden by the

fierce Indian Tribes.