Christmas, Legend, Love, satire

The First Coming

Adorning the scarlet crown of thorns

he graced the parched sands of 

ancient Bethlehem with legendary 

bounties of those infinite compassions.

A messiah took birth in the shanty

dwellings of the humblest shepherds,

A shooting star sighted somewhere,

It was the first tremors,those calm

                whispers and silent tears.

 He silently trudged on those impotent

lands leaving in every-footprint a gushing

fountain brimming with divine mercy

Brought down the mighty

Roman Empire  not with a saddle or sword 

but with a single drop of his blood

And when the lighting struck  

the barren lands, he humbly took upon

himself the sins of all those around,

resurrecting from his humanly abode 

It was the first coming, the most

anticipated one.

 

(Merry Christmas to all my Christian Friends, it’s my humble take on the spirit of Christmas and the legendary story Of Christ) 

Misfortune
Legend, Love, Nature, poetry

Deliquesced

In the murkiest corner of my

house, behind vintage armarium

lingers shadowy smoke of a

lone candle lite once.

 

The flame long extinguished

leaving behind a sooty smog

that hovers an abandoned cloud

 

Reminiscence of days when

arrogant flicker competed

with the mighty rays of Sun.

 

Callously it turned its head

towards the scorching beam

In exhilaration of youth before

time melted away.

 

The satin wax of exotic bees

deliquesced and fell apart like

the fall of Icarus leaving a dark

cloud on the walls…

 

 

 

 

 

Train
Inspiration, Legend, Nature, poetry

A Lone Train

Chuk Chuk Chuk Chuk…

A lone train screeches

as it travels through

the hollower valleys

and gasping Wastelands

 

Chuk Chuk Chuk Chuk…

Piercing through the

bare empty winds

bursting into open clouds

thundering straight into

the darker nights on

narrowest bridges

 

Chuk Chuk Chuk Chuk…

carrying in it the ghost

passengers, yes those lost

trekkers pacing across

the numb eerie silences

keeping  wrecked promises

 

Chuk Chuk Chuk Chuk…

stopping at  the haunted

junctions of few spirited

bandits, headless inherited

curse of slained and martyred

those slaughtered and mattered

to some cause.

 

Chuk Chuk Chuk Chuk.

The train trails along

Cracked tracks beyond

Dense woods, those wronged

Pilgrims but still moves on

on lonely lanes treasuring in it

vowed wrecked promises

of now vanished travelers 

Chuk Chuk Chuk Chuk…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a lone rover
Legend, Love, Nature, poetry

A LONE ROVER


A lone rover wandering in,
In the ancient city of Byzantium
Flying through the narrow lanes
Of colorful bazaars embellished.

With tapestries of doe-eyed hoories

Sweet aroma of brewing Turkish coffee
Lingering in the air, koo hoo of pigeons
In the throbbing kare pazar.

Tall turquoise minarets echoing with
A melodious song of bulbul seated on
Withered old chestnut tree, a song of
Some far off exotic  land separated

Over two waters, by the grand range of
The Hindu Kush, the ballad of crystal blue waters
In the lap of mighty snow-covered Himalayas,
A lake flowed down through white clouds

Descended from heavens on whose divine,
Waters exquisite golden swans float,
On the smooth frosty edges Buddhist
Monks meditate for days and nights

Abode of the great lord the mighty
God of wrath and destruction. As the lone
Rover listened to the hymn astonishingly,
Little bulbul, flew across the mighty sea

Rover being a wanderer decided at once
To follow the bird and travel into the distant
Lands, for his quench to travel, is insatiable
And time in the world limited.

Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Inspiration, Legend, Literature, Love, Nature

Refuge

I took refuge in myself as a

hermit in an ancient cage,

enduring the thunders and 

the howls of angry wolves

in my brain, as the centers

would not hold, no one ever

cared for my broken words

so I started to scribble long

verses on my aching heart

while taking refuge in my

my withered soul caged by

the barrage of human folly. 

feminine, Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Legend, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry, sensual, Spirtual, woman

Final Liberation

The exquisite hope diamond ring that was

tightly wrapped around my shaking finger,

is it enough to keep me chained or do you

think I stayed for a few golden jewels?

You can very well tie me with the,shackles

of your heart’s desire and lock my yearnings

in an embellished magical lamp and seal it

with an Indian pearl. But are the ruby and

topaz strings strong enough to tie my soul to

some wooden vows? Has any sorcerer ever

been able to trap a soul? My soul has been

emancipated long before you were born it 

flew across many deserts, crossed many

channels and soared much above the azure

skies. And for my wild heart, you can scribble

many criss-cross lines with a marker of your

desire.Could any illusionist ever conjure up 

the strength to tame a heart? The profanities

that you hurl at me are no longer the cause

of my woes. I no longer feel humiliated

when you mock at me with a grin on your

handsome face or call me a whore or an

unstable lot. Much before you since centuries

men have called me different names and

temples and shrines haves offered me

several offers of redemption and even tried

to chastise me in the holy waters of sacred

rivers. But while pundits and priests were

performing fire rituals for the purification of

my sinful flesh my soul was busy consummating

with the hollow winds and erect trees on the

moonless nights. My spirit paid ablutions

and offered few locks of raven hair as a

sacrifice to the  Goddess of Earth, Gaia and

my soul just soared higher and higher

after being blessed with the final liberation. 

Tragedy of Oedipus
Books, History, Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Legend, Literature, Love

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.
Tanya Shukla

(In Greek mythology, Chrysippus  was a divine hero of Elis in the Peloponnesus, the bastard son of Pelops king of Pisa in the Peloponnesus and the nymph Axioche or Danais. He was kidnapped by the Theban Laius, his tutor, who was escorting him to the Nemean Games, where the boy planned to compete. Instead, Laius ran away with him to Thebes and raped him, a crime for which he, his city, and his family were later punished by the gods. But over the years while studying Greek Mythology, people often remember tragedy of Oedipus but left out Chryisppus which according to me is a bigger tragedy. Many young boys get raped or sodomized but their stories never come to surface, this is just my attempt to bring Chrysippus story through poetry. who was sodomized and raped in the Greek mythology of Oedipus)

Source:

Chrisypuss, Wikipedia

 

ring
feminine, Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Inspiration, Legend, Love, poetry, Self-Help, woman

A Brute For A Man

What evil dwells in men who lock up

their women in golden cages and deny them

the freedom which nature bestows upon them

the freewill which the lord rests on them 

What kind of love justifies binding up feet

of their women so they can never walk freely,

strangulate their feelings so they never have any

dreams of liberation? They  suffer silently with men

of such devilish brutality, for whom their wives

are just trophies and machines to bear children

which they threaten to take away because the

law is on their side and the house is on their land.

These wives are made to bow more and everyday

and any last vestige of  shredded-esteem that is left

in the gaunt  hollow body and parched heart is

trampled and crushed upon. Even the wisest and

fairest of damsels fall into the charms of these

kinds of brutes who walk ten feet in front of women,

for they are men and carry the burden of their mothers

while their women have already paid for six feet deep.

Their women smile and carefully mask their purplish

dark circles with concealers and expensive mascaras,

however the blueish veins still remain visible beneath

the six layers of dark makeup, The diamond ring

of unholy matrimony used as a bait to catch the

rare fish, digs deep in fragile fingers obstructing the flow

of any life present inside, the wedding gown lay hanging

of a bride who ordered a pretty shroud for herself. 

Still these wives carry neat appearances and smile even 

when chained with hot iron shackles of pride and disdain.

Thoughts of mercy- killing  lingers and echos all the time

but still they carry on for the sake of the newborn babies,

they  bear every-year with a single wish if they are born

as girls never to mistake brutes for men as their mothers did.

For she  can have an unfortunate fate like mine or yours….

Tanya Shukla