Miserable

Never ever it occurs to you,
But darkness swallows you whole.
Dark in the darkest corners of mind,
It does burns up the soul.
Words and actions benign and mild,
All go up in vain.
Feelings like a less cared child,
Left high and dry in rain.
Malice and avarice inside the heart,
Drips vitriol from the tongue.
And burns a hole straight through the heart,
Miserable it feels from pole to pole.
A touch of love, a sprinkle of respite,
Is all that I want despite.
Fresh and mild like morning dew,
I wish no pain, I wish no fright.

Life

Silence sometimes bodes well for life,
Without any events, without any strife.
Yet for the reason of sole directions,
Moving ahead with the best intentions,
Life chooses for you surprise and shock,
Uncertain things do arrive and knock.
Someday it can be a pleasant news,
Sometimes it might be of repaying the dues.
Ardour, love, compassion and rage,
An elated heart or a broken cage.
Right on the walk are thorns galore,
Yet we hold on to the life we adore.
Living on and leaving alone,
Everything that hurts.
I wish to live and so would I,
Braving the darkness that lurks.

The marbles of Mosul

At the dawn of man in some hundred B.C.
The Kings of Assyria did some marbles decree.
Countless unknown uncared hands,
Chiseled away stones in forbidding sands.
Out of the marble they created life,
A piece of art that bore no strife.
Craftsmen and sculptors toiled in the sun,
The things they achieved were not meager one.
Left for the world to behold and envy,
It did inspire the men to dream and to see.

Three thousand years down the line,
The ruins, the sculptures defy the time.
Harking back to the dawn of men,
Innocents wondered how, why and when?
There in the city of modern Mosul,
Still stood the pride of Assyrian men.

Yet for the reasons beyond imagination,
Shame of the mankind indeed boil down.
After the despairs of men women and children,
It was the turn of the prides of crown.
The endeavours of craftsmen had outlived time.
Yet they were punished without a crime.
Bludgeoned to pieces, now dust they would be,
Known as the marbles they now cease to be.

Visions!!

There in the oceans of endless deep,
Lies in the refuse, a secret asleep.
Haunts from the past bottled in glass
Covered in green and netted with sea grass.
That accursed curse of highest order,
On the brink of harmless, its look does border.
Sought by the evil and the angels alike,
No one was sure, how it would be like.
What forsaken spell, the parchment held,
Prophecy had it that it can't be dealt.
And as the solemn prophet once knelt,
He knew it was it, the wrath it held!!

Far away from the maddening crowds,
In the land of secrets and shrouds.
Was forged in secret with endless magic,
Something so dark, something so tragic.
Yet beyond the thoughts of man,
That evil that fiend that godless damn.
Lurking in depths of far off land,
That evil always had plans so grand.

My heart so shudders to think of the bottle,
The secret it holds, the lives it would throttle.
The countless counting of vicious fingers,
That danger that darkness effortlessly lingers.
The farther the man proceeds to discover,
Its only the evil that gets out of cover.
And in the corner, my sweet heart yells,
As the doom finally swells.
Let it be there, let it sleep!
Let it remain in the endless deep!!