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A Promise of Life

I walk close to the tangled barks

and buzzing noise

where creatures of the dark

watch me unseen.

Fear battling with persistence,

I tread into the darkness.

Branches block my vision

and stones prick my feet.

I stumble,

but walk on

when a gust of breeze

sweeps over me.

I look up to see a paradise

of flowers. The buzzing noises are

that of Red Admirals,

hovering around undiscovered flowers.

The tangled barks spread to huge branches

that offer shelter to millions

of tiny creatures, crawling and flying.

Did I fear the darkness?

Doesn’t the dark ultimately

make way for light?

The light of never-ending life,

promise and vigor.

Path to Peace

The soldier saw

reddish-orange blood pouring out

of his enemy’s chest

as he thrust his glossy sword

deep inside.

Reddish-orange, the color of the setting sun,

he thought, pointless.

For the first time, he looked into his

enemy’s face. Was he 17 or 18?

His hands numbed and bones quivered as he

imagined his youngest brother

soaked in reddish-orange blood.

Another enemy lay beside the young one,

like crushed leaves,

his dark crimson blood reminiscent

of the sky before a storm.

What is the color of my blood?

he wondered. What did he fight for?

Expansion? Race? Religion?

A vulture sat in the stench of blood,

her mouth purplish-red,

jaw dripping,

observing and waiting.

Suddenly, scared of all the red around him,

the soldier dragged himself out

of the battlefield.

His helmet and sword slipped away

in search of a better warrior.

His legs strolled where his heart led and

he stopped in front of a monastery.

He knelt with force

as the monastery bells rang,

his knees brushing

the hard rock below.

He found that his blood

was reddish-yellow

like a scattered autumn leaf.

He lifted his eyes

as the sun broke through the trees

illuminating his path to peace.

Spark of Fire

I am the spark of fire

born from animosity.

I do not rue my birth

but transform into

a spark of hope

as I implant myself in

every child

who crosses my path.

I will burn in them

as a light of hope

and humanity,

till they pass me to others.

I will stay alight

with faith and joy

till the end of the world.

Hope

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I stare at the ceiling, wondering if it is 1 or 2 PM. At the corner of the table is a kerosene lantern, not used for many years. I light it and walk into the night. The creatures of the night hush at the sound of footsteps, but the persistent buzz of a bee holds my attention. The bee hovers around a wild plant; an orange bud. The bud sleeps on, unheeding the bee’s buzz and noise. But, the bee does not give up. It sits on the leaves and bends towards the bud, shaking it. Suddenly, there is a loud hiss. It is not the bee, but the flower. It opens up to reveal a yellow inner part, further illuminated by the lamp. The bee moves home and rekindles in my heart the hope to live.

Dawn
orange bud blooms
baby’s first word

My E-Chapbook Published in Proletaria

Hi Friends,

My E-Chapbook, Pinewood Hills, has been published in Proletaria. It contains haiku, one-line poetry and haibun. Proletaria publishes wonderful modern haiku and monostichs. If you like reading haiku and one-line poetry, do visit their site.

Do read and let me know what you think of my work. Here is the link.