Tuesday, April 06, 2010

The Warrior.

The mighty warrior sets forth
wearing a crown of quiet pride.
With a fire in his brave heart
a purpose in his stride.

The world seems to glow
the colours seem to surge.
The reds of the earth with
the emeralds of the sky
today seem to merge.

As the moment comes nearer
as the enemy draws close.
As the tip of his arrow glints
the trepidation in his heart grows.

The win seems impossible
the enemy seems stronger.
The world seems to reel
the distances seem longer.

He clenches his fist
closes his eyes
feels his bow
its strength by his side.

The quiet pride returns
as he draws his bow taut.
He charges ahead into history
The battle, the greatest he fought.

Saturday, April 03, 2010

The afternoons

Loving you on a sultry afternoon.
The air languid,
the breeze still, quiet.
Birds not singing,
trees not whispering.
A blue bottle buzzing
lazily over the white lilies
you brought home.
Water dripping somewhere,
sand in the hourglass flowing.
Cats curled up in dark corners,
the milk in saucers souring.
The wall clock ticking.
An insistent tic-toc,
trying to make the
oblivious take notice.
Aah, what an attention seeker.
You ignore it.
I ignore it.
The silly flowery bedsheets,
the one too many cushions.
The forgotten tea cups
toppled over the blue rug.
The stained, dog-eared books
strewn across the floor.
The doors have been locked.
Curtains have been drawn.
The closed blinds,
make crisscrossing patterns
on the gleaming white tiles.
And the sun beams dance
to the moonlight sonata
playing on the old stereo.
A sliver of the ebony night,
a slice of the silvery moon,
on that long, sultry afternoon.