The uprising


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Gleb Goloubetski
‘Autumn Breeze’

Watch me as I rise
drinking up the black liquid of night
The wind in my golden stalks

He lies on the lapping surface
to carry me away
from all that is dark

The bamboo in my basket of love
is covered with its swan flowers
The sunlight, my last sheath

I see his handsome heart
and the big stakes driven into them
but I am not a frail concept, I am Earth

out to reclaim my colours
from the paint and word palettes
of plagiarist beings called artists
©Reena Prasad  26th May 2013

Give peace a chance


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Thunderous frowns darkened the sky
trees stood gloomy in a brooding silence
flowers  doubted their wilting powers
to paint faded gardens all over again
The wind grew impatient waiting for spring.
the sea rumbled its discontent at the heavens.
and out of nowhere came  flying a dove
peace written on every feather
love flowing from its soul
it kissed the clouds, the sky turned blue
happy  trees turned green once more
flowers spread a carpet on Earth
gentle breezes rocked the sea to rest
the dove flew around on wings of hope
sharing the joy she had brought with her
till the happy echoes prompted heaven
to shower divine blessings on earthly beings
The dove, a messenger of  the  human heart
came to calm restless spirits
soothing  troubled brows, bringing soft glows
her touch faded every sorrow
her breath melted the desert heat
the season transformed from sad to sweet
Let us build her a beautiful nest on Earth
so that she stays forever with us.

©Reena Prasad  2nd nov 2011 (Published in World peace World healing  Vol. 1 -A poetry anthology)

Wake up~


The bells toll
but these are of bicycles
Jostling and pushing each other
in their hurry to reach where ever.
Small tea-shops, odd assortment
of ties, lungi, vest and shoes
gossip centering around the news.

Bread and cheese ones, in swanky mansions
– the television juggling their views.
Money controlling facial gestures
Get – a smile, take – a frown
Changing mental wallpapers
now simplified
The gory killing on the screen
neither shocks nor registers.
Indifference
and no after effects.

Murder
cold blooded murder
yet not of the person they think it was
Murder of faith as men turn into mercenaries
Misled by hunger- induced hallucinatory
images of being missionaries
Murder of the lone human race
Why kill? Why want something
in exchange of a death?

Humble origins of homo sapiens
maybe we still carry
some blue-green algae in our bloody veins
Our fishes, our trees, our tribe
Now
my land, my state, my country
Mission forgotten
to carry evolution forward
to safely hand over earth
to the unborn warriors
untaught in the chakravyuh of politics.

Exaggerating trivial issues
to the gory point
of a fellow being’s ultimate sacrifice
dividing lives into countries, faiths
amidst noise and hollow victories.

Hear pleas
crafted with the essence of loss
of crushed, sacrificed, innocent buds.
This was the promised land
They too wanted to throw stones
into the pond
to take a rain walk
to dream in the moon shine
But they could not
For their life lines were cut with hateful blades
even though earth had enough
for all.

Generation of blood art
Let us wipe out this unholy graffiti
from human walls
It is not too late.
©Reena Prasad 7th Feb 2012
Published in Brian Wrixon’s Anthology “The poetry of war and peace”

Earth roots


 A leg stretched, the other bent

 he lies sprawled on her muddy curves

 their wetness, a drop away

 grassy intrusions tickling his sides

 softening rough edges

His head buried contentedly in her

 though she has pushed him out partially

 into the sunlight

 His green burdens branding their shadows

 upon him

 as he stretches further in his quest

 to fulfill their needs too.

©Reena Prasad 5th October 2012

Blueprints~


Plans roll down the slope

haphazardly zigzagging,

pulled by the gravity of the situation

some lie stuck on uncertain tufts of doubts

chewing upon their future

others find themselves in a murky drain

to be washed away without a say

A few evaporate into thin air

never to be spoken of again

 unable to withstand the heat

when the lava of Life rears up

 tearing fault lines apart into steaming craters

 frying ignorance into crisp nuggets of awareness

 spewing its compelling wisdom

on the temporary beings playing house

 with empty boxes of hope and reason.

©Reena Prasad 7th October 2012

Rapunzel, Rapunzel! Let down your hair.


rapunxel

On the loftiest tower above us all
Spinning her silk, is a youthful rhyme
Her cascading hair held up aloft
by anguished hands running against Time
As yet another sun merges with the sand
She weeps into the dusky orange glow
A wraith, wiping her tears on a wisp of cloud
Will these red rivers ever cease their flow?

The ocean has receded into the blue,
She still waits here looking out for you
to welcome a warrior, from across the sea
Her tresses spread, a shadow over the trees
Come, for the choked fishes no longer swim
Come, for the birds have lost their wings
Pastel green trees have turned gnarled and brown,
Smiling faces are few, far more are the frowns.

Black bullets glitter, embedded on nursery walls,
black waters hover over the milky waterfalls
The season of spring has gone far away,
Flames now scorch, for love has turned grey.
Every gate shut, every door locked
but a small window of hope could never be blocked
Come’ O’ Prince! She will throw her plait
Blackened by grime since that fairy tale,
mothers used to read aloud
Little angels used to dream about
The golden waves that will kiss your core
But before that prize, still remain some chores.

If you can stop the storms swirling around,
If you can build a bridge over the troubled ground
if you can shield the melting glaciers from the flames
If you can cover the desert with green grass again
If you can find a sparkle of love in the apathy around
Then ‘O’ Earth warrior,
here comes her gold falling onto your ground
For she is Earth- The princess of Life
Kiss her golden ropes and rescue that fairy rhyme,
the one called Rapunzel, once upon a time.
©Reena Prasad

(This poem has been published in the book “Once upon a time ” by Barry Mowles and Friends)

Ganga


Ganga stood
beautifully poised
on the brink of heaven
And then she began
Her free fall
upon Earth
Accelerating towards the ground
Her lithe, streamlined form
Swaying silkily down
Determined to make earth bear
the brunt
of her hurt arrogance.

Destructive force
of her descent
absorbed calmly by The Destroyer
without a lapse in  concentration
She meandered, stunned  by her inability
to sweep away the great God
Losing her way instead
among his tangled locks,
till he showed her the path
gently bringing her down to earth
dissolving her ego by his move
Her sweet purity reinstated with a mission
to mitigate a universal thirst
till the end of Kalyug.

Earth rejoiced
in the arrival of the mountain daughter
Turning green and blue
Swirling around, teeming with joy
sprouting life wherever
the divine waters touched.

North and then east
in several streams, she flowed
Turning into Bhageerathi
till the ocean beckoned.
Will she too follow Saraswati
blackened by man’s sins?
Dry and condemned
a lost spiritual flow.

Meditate not on her banks,’ O’ god men
Touch her not with your sinful feet
But immerse your soul into her purity
Let go, let go of all the Maaya
in the lethargic smoke that spouts from you
wipe those wick-oil smeared shutters
And see through an inner frame
Snip away those matted bird nests
Wash away those flaky ash smears
Sporting those half dead snakes
cannot make you Shiva.

Cleanse those guilty cavities
let your sins be your Guru
Maybe you still can feel
the rush, the roar and the force
as she lands on those coiled dreadlocks
entwined with serpent slaves of a mastered ego
and see
a crescent on his forehead
a glittering trophy of his timelessness.

As you drown in the inner knowledge
of your worthless existence,
pray it opens unto you
His third eye of knowledge
To dispel the black, ignorant miasma
To reduce to holy ash
the falseness of life on earth.

Washing the ashes of more than the purported
sixty thousand sons,
She still sways,
The spiritual Ganga  running in our veins
Suffering the same fate
as the tearful, throttled one
Carrying  moral corpses
Stagnant and poisoned
for a lost mind
can no longer mimic
a lotus leaf.

For Ganga leans
Tired, ravished
Waiting for the Bull,
standing on one leg
To stand on all fours
again

©Reena Prasad

Wake up


The bells toll
but these are of bicycles
Jostling and pushing each other
in their hurry to reach where ever.
Small tea-shops, odd assortment
of ties, lungi, vest and shoes
gossip centering around  the news.

Bread and cheese ones, in swanky mansions
– the television juggling their views.
Money controlling facial gestures
Get – a smile, take – a frown
Changing mental wallpapers
now simplified
The gory killing on the screen
neither shocks nor registers.
Indifference
and no after effects.

Murder
cold blooded murder
yet not of the person they think it was
Murder of faith as men turn into mercenaries
Misled by hunger- induced hallucinatory
images of being missionaries
Murder of the lone human race
Why  kill? Why want something
in exchange of a death?

Humble origins of homo sapiens
maybe we still carry
some  blue-green algae in our bloody veins
Our fishes ,our trees, our tribe
Now
My land, my state, my country
Mission forgotten
to carry evolution forward
To safely hand over earth
To the unborn warriors
untaught in the chakravyuh of politics.

Exaggerating trivial  issues
to the gory point
of a fellow being’s ultimate sacrifice
dividing  lives into countries, faiths
amidst noise and  hollow victories.

Hear pleas
crafted with the essence of loss
of crushed, sacrificed, innocent buds.
This was the promised land
They too wanted to throw stones
into the pond
to take a rain walk
to dream  in the moon shine
But they could not
For their life lines were cut with hateful blades
even though earth had enough
for all.

Generation of blood art
Let us wipe out this unholy graffiti
from human walls
It is not too late.
©Reena