An Ode to a Banyan tree

O Merciful ‘n’ kind banyan tree-
In thy shade thrive the Lord’s other beautiful beings
Thou welcomes the burning molten rays and,
Tranforms them into a mothers’ protective embrace!

Does it not ache thee, when thou arms are cut and bleeding?
When gratitude is forgotten, what difference does it make?
In our cunning and naivety, we often forget;
The more we cut, the more we burn and suffer.

This is my humble attempt at weaving a poem from 3 given words!! Please check out amazing write-ups at 3WW: Three Word Wednesday here.

Loss and longing

Often I wonder when I look up at the sky
The twinkling stars in the moonlit gaze
Are these the spirits of the loved ones gone by?

Thou, the creator of the dark, mystic alibi
Pray, tell me which star shineth the least
Pray, tell me which star dulls the most

And would thy sky be any less brighter,
Had thou let go of thus star?
For its precious to me, this little star

And if you would heed
To all thy children, every precious star
Would soon be given,

And I wonder who would look up at your dark alibi;
Who would long to see the once twinkling sky?
For these little stars are more precious

And if truth be told, it would be all dark and scary
So thy alibi would take all our precious spirits
And put them back as stars into thy sky!

Just a poem

Spread her wings
far and wide;
Flap them to and fro,

from side to side.
A feather, a bubble,

a wish, a trinket
All things dear to her,

yet so fragile!
Memories of broken dreams

fill her in,
As she walks the path,

the forbidden path.

‘Hey, you’, whispers
the voice of her soul
Dare she heed any,

lest her destiny deny her role,
She hastens on the path –

the call from the wild
The Devil’s more powerful

than her disheartened own.
She steps in tiptoe,

as quiet as her shadow
Her ignorance divine,

her mind aglow

Like the wonderland
through a rabbit-hole,
Seeks yet another

Alice of its own
The call was enchanting,

the promise so soothing
The Lord, her shepherd

tends to her soul
Alas the Devil tempts her

to the path unknown
O dear child, her fear is

but not a word spoken.

The Devil, the fantasy,
the mirage the sands have seen
Speak of a world through

the looking-glass
A world manifested

full of promises galore
For what seems real may not be and

what isn’t may seem so!
Yet again, her faith is shattered,

her dream broken
Yet another path seeks her,

seeks the gossamer of her dreams!