Sonnet 275

After the wetness of the rain,
on open prairies, lush and green;
after the endless waves of sand
in the glare of a desert sun;
after the lashing of the wind
atop the foggy mountain peaks;
after the broad-leaved trees become
deciduous with rose and amber
bathing as the day’s knell is tolled –
this is who I am in the end:

An applicant who has too often failed
to get into the human club
for refusing to be a cannibal;
a global citizen,
a refugee, imprisoned
in his own motherland!

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A Broken Song

It’s a small world, you said!
A world that might have been
large enough to unite with my beloved
but woe, the plague of borders and bayonets!

    

A weird time, undoubtedly,
when the governments and their polities
thrive on fear, conjured up by empty words
and a hatred for the presumed divergence!

   

Wish I had the means to ask for your hands,
a horse, a sail to leave this barren land!
Perhaps you would let me belong
to the corner you call your home,
near the mountain, decked with a forest, green,
where your cloud of hair is ruffled by the wind!

  

Still, with most of my numbered days already gone
what rights do I have on that heavy cloud,
streaked with golden rays from the sun,
woven from the same stuff as dreams?

    

Yet, since I have vowed not to leave
a single word unsaid, let me conclude by
pledging these humble words at your feet –
if I were Hades, would you be my Persephone?
I promise to keep the world unthawed
and the winter, running all year long!

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Missing Poetry

Watch and Listen to a Reading of the Poem.

[Forewords]: Regretfully, since starting the channel @ The Lone Wolf Creations, I have not been able to write poems at all. Here are some words I just wrote while brooding over the fact. After all, as a poet, no act of creation makes me feel more complete than the act of writing a poem.

Am I officially single now, a celibate?
Where are the words, the sole love of my life?
O my dear syllables, how I miss your throbbing gaits
on our bed, discolored pages, once white!

And I miss playing with your minute phonemes as well,
through my fingertips, throbbing even more
at the sheer bliss of heaven while being in a hell,
that is what creation feels like to my core!

So, please show me your countenance, my dear poetry,
for I have sought you like the whirling waters seek
the comfort of an ocean in their destiny
as they keep falling down from a blue mountain’s peak!

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© Amit Rahman, 27 August 2016

Lady Fate

Once I tried to tame the nomad within my blood,
little did I know, Fate had a pitying smirk for me
on her stoic face but I, a gambler too, the kind
that played with a smirk of their own at ruthless life,
had become too well versed in losing all by then!
   

No, I did not cry, not with visible tears at least,
rather felt like a cloud which had outwept its rain,
heading back to its equatorial home, the sea
to become darker and swollen with mist again
and retrace another route to a thunderstorm!
   

Can a compulsive nomad ever build a home,
be it with four walls or around another soul,
lady Fate’s own wanderer, who has always been
a loner walking on the lonely path of life!
    

Once I tried to send my dreams to a mountain top,
covered with cherry blossoms as soft as the mist
in gradient of colors from white to mauve and pink,
little did I know, lady Fate had her own plans too
for turning me into a symbol made of stone!
    

One cannot hope to petrify a vagabond,
and have I not become a name, though it cursed be,
for always roaming with an ever hungry heart
to follow lady Fate like a sinking star beyond
the western sky, the utmost bound of human thoughts!
    

Despite the cool, windy comfort of an oasis,
a Bedouin has to return to the desert sands,
his love was for the pleasant shadows soothing him
but he belonged there, out on the blistering land!
    

So I raised my hands in submission and resigned,
claiming the duality of Sekhmet and Bastet as mine!*

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*Sekhmet and Bastet are ancient Egyptian goddesses.

 

Promethus Bound*

   * The post was deleted due to a technical glitch in my Server. Reposting with due apologies to each of the kind readers who read, liked and commented on the piece. 

I must die or become a god tonight,
taste the earth or the sky,
with a conviction that shall make
even Prometheus white and pale!

    

I shall be both the cold Winter and Spring,
as humble and accepting
as the first but as haughty too,
basking in the lush and green hue!

    

The heavy mountains shall float in the air,
like cotton clouds stripped bare,
as I preserve in destruction
and drive the raindrops to their home!

   

Yes, I guess the world will know tonight that it’s me,
when I lay siege and override my destiny! 

    

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