7/25/2013
The Hidden Verse
By Shannon Rutan
A catalogue of verses on diverse topics.
My moon
The moon in its shining armor, glows on the lake. Black shadows chase the dark meadows childishly. The water runs fast and time goes slow, its mammoth golden shape and the black clouds in distance, it could swallow me easily. How the night hushes everything in silence before it goes to bed? I wonder except the noise of naughty cockroaches. The world of the moon would be so bright, the people so different. Do they stare at me as I stare at them? I see the festivities going on in the lap of a mountain, Alas! The moon sits alone and stares at the show. Loneliness among them is beautiful.
Oh the Wind
This green river, this white mountain, this wind which hums in a Sufi style as if it whispers something to me. Oh Wind! Come near me, Hug me warmly and tell me about this silent loneliness. Come and tell me why is this world not so lonely as Im now. How can this river sing so mystically? Oh Wind! My Wind! Come.
Dirty Hearts
Ah thou hearts how can be dirty , Clogged with white blood of selfishness , Thou art born like silk cloth clean of blots , which the sky has no might to rust it , Thou heart sees no one superior, struggles to shatter kins ambitions, Alas the peril gets broken and thou left with ruthless beasts on earth. I pity you earth, how do you witness and still pain to endure their rowdiness. I pity you, I pity !
If hearts could speak
If the hearts could speak, Imagine what would they say. A bleeding hearts plead to its lover. The cries , sufferings , the wait and the hopeless hope. If a poors heart could speak , how intense the feeling will be. the desires , unrelenting struggle , the dejection. If a mans heart could speak all the plaints and woes. Tis would not need a tongue to talk where lies the black snape. It makes a wound which bleeds and heals and bleeds again. I pity at the fragile heart soft as delicate cotton. when touched loses its warmth. The heart inside its core which surrounds images Broken , stiff , dusty. Oh ! How the earth would be , if hearts could speak.
Love in Battlefield
Eyeing the grave of ruins, Makes my heart bleed, cut and through. Ye know the tremor of shrapnel , the hellish noise of a bullet , which spears through the winds core. Sad the scene it is. The dark tear rolls down , makes every white face turn to evil black, the fear boils with the cold blood , dripping on calm sand. Ye Shannon wants to find love here ? Dont you see , eyes cannot sleep , limbs dont surrender . Those red lips through which honey drips down, Sweet dew floating on wind. That smile , mighty and spreads its fragrance to air. O where it is , years are low, less breath to take , more to gaze at. Ye are mindless ! Ye hope to find her in never ending smoke. Pieces of metal , heaps of debris, Shrieks the mother , Whines the newborn baby.
Love is a sacred water which flows , in a perfumed paradise. She cannot breathe here , the darkness tarnishes her milky cheeks. Love never cries but she will, bleed here. Oh your whines are affectless. I smell the presence of an entity. All the tress bow , the winds hush in silence. In yonder there I can see. Love growing in the blood-drenched sand. In midst of bodies lying still , Love rises , wildness bows.
Purpose of Life
Behold the glamour of life, the spring of rapture. Every man hath one life to live. I ask what is our purpose , what is it we are destined for. A man plays the show hungry for heaps of golds and silver. Thou are imbecile wildly. You not know this ship will wreck one day. Every crew of your folk , the treasure of desires, will abandon into a graveyard of souls. But ye will not find graves, this ship will drown in a beastly sea. Ponder before its late. Come out of foolish herd. Oh Shannon ! Atlast I have found the reason of me here. See the smile on a childs face ? To make happy , stuff your hands with gifts of the world, to do that , I m made.
In Airport
I sit like an ant in the lions den, staring at the growing populace. An army moves in front of me , Some summoned by the king of this castle , Some waiting to be called. This old man has a mind to stay inside the airport, the fatigue flows down from him. And that young girl is quiet in her slumber ! Such haste I have never seen. This place reflects the human character , Who is blurry-eyed , tired from race. Some of them race for gold Some for unreal comfort, How mighty the outside could be , Manhood will never know.
