My flock,my folks


For the Prompt at Sunday scribblings “Flock”

I seem to be writing from the other side more now-a-days. Could  the animal in me be coming out?

My flock- my folks

Easy to care for, easier to eat
I am a farm pet ,they call us silly geese
I am free to peck at the grass, free to waggle my neck
The kind master ,he locks me in a box and takes all my eggs.
When the sky turns grey and the sun hides behind some fluff
I cackle and cackle with joy as I spot my mother above.

 

We were once together, flying over oceans at noon
We were once a single shape streaking the rising ,pale moon
Beloved of the skein, pampered under her wings
We flew over worlds in patterns, lines and rings.
A shot rang above the desert, and I fell on earth-unfurled
Broken wings and terror, shattered my buoyant world.

 

She looked back and called but I was too weak
The hunter was at large, the flock had to leave
Now she knows me not but my cackles never cease
When I spot my newest sibling, I can’t help but weep
What wouldn’t I give to leave this wretched, dry ground
to float above the pearly moon with my own flock around.?

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Uncrowned royals


For poetry potluck at Jingles

Uncrowned royals

They are the true monarchs
living the accustomed regal life
in the simian way
In the granitic grandeur of Ranthambore Fort
guardians of our past today.

They never steal the marbled tiles
nor gouge out and hoard the gold.
nor scratch futile love signs on imperial walls
unlike their pitiful human cousins.
Ample proof of royal blood.

They knew it all along
history turns the pages of time
yet another era will bite the dust.
Erasing war results of ignorant vermin,
enmities lie merged under Mother Earth.

Immortal they remain
Watching evolution from the tall trees
Our ancestors who never claim
their rights to the royal throne
yet they alone occupy it today.

My friend, the moon


 

Lying in repose, with sleep in sight
For dreams to come and lighten the night
I spot your bright face, hiding behind a cloud
Beaming at me, like a friend I know
What was said, I no longer can say
But left me with feelings all aglow.

 

Days when the heart is sore
A bitter word or look seals the door
I tell myself, be patient for night will bring
Your smiling face to peep through my door.
And all the poison turns into dessert
As I drink deep from your beautiful soul. 

In early morn, before truth awakens
There is an interlude for you to come
I throw open every window, for your glimpse
There you are! Waltzing with stars galore!
A few moments, we spend in silence
You, me, our reminiscences of yore.

©Reena Prasad 23rd Nov 2010

 

   

A Dear Friend /Purrspectives


 Today we sat in perfect peace,
I on my easy chair
He on the window sill
Looking out together into the wintery garden
over the pebbles, at the fallen leaves
the burst of marigold sunshine, the guava laden trees
He stares gravely as if contemplating, perfectly still.
I watch his handsome face, wondering what he sees

His eyes give nothing away,
He seems to be smelling the breeze
while watching a butterfly
floating over the lawns at ease
I turn my chair toward him, to secretly read his thoughts.
Cleverer , he turns away as if to foil my plot
Does he wonder about the sun as it plays hide and seek
or accepts it without doubt as part of nature’s decrees? 

Maybe he wonders if I am out of my mind
sitting indoors though the weather is fine.
He bears with my every flaw, ever benign.
never going far, though I am rude sometimes
Do I live with him or does he live with me
An austere face, that stately walk- no less than any prince
Dignified and calm, his feline charm,
always soothes my hurt

A twitch of his tail, his ears go up, he crouches down, alert! 

He sees a bird, I know
his inborn instincts keeping time
One of us is a poet-which one?
but together, our days do rhyme.

©Reena Prasad  22nd Nov 2o10
Published in ‘THE PURRFECT ANTHOLOGY ” By Lost Tower Publications On 14th Nov 2014 . LINK HERE

the family

The king in Dubai


November1, 2010

 

The old lion lumbered up the steps

of the dingy enclosure

No longer majestic in his bondage

plagued by sickness, old age  

A pitiful sight for all with hearts

that could see beyond the fairy tale  

The bare patches on its yellow skin  

covered with sores, tick bites  

To little eyes he was still a King  

albeit to himself -a mere jailbird  

In the jungle, he was once the law perhaps  

Man trembled at a mere growl  

What did he do against human law  

except that he was born a lion?  

In a wretched prison for crimes never done  

suffering ignominy all his life  

Which rights for whom, who decides?  

Committees meet over tea and produce  

recommendations long as a perennial river  

while a beautiful life languishes in vain  

missing the free air and space

which nature had decreed for him to breathe  

He never caught a man for fun  

Never held any prey as hostage for life  

Merciful he was, he killed them right away  

Now he waits for an eternal flight  

to that unseen yet lush forest  

flourishing somewhere within him.

©Reena Prasad

THE LAST GOAT


October 11, 2010

In the unearthly morn,
A shrieking chill pierced the air
The sleeping goat wiggled its tail
Slumber won and he lay there.
Blood and life oozing out
Sacred to none but food for some
Where and what the fuss was about?
Why was he in a place so glum?

 

When he came with a few other goats,
food was all, he thought about.
Would there be grass enough for all
Or would hunger be their fall?
Didn’t he ever wonder, in his little mind
how savages made their brutal choice?
The fattest ones were the first to go.
He, being small, was left behind.

 

They gave him food and tied him up.
He missed the freedom of the fields
where he followed his mother and ran.
An innocent kid with unbridled glee.
Here she vanished on the first dawn.
His brother followed her next.
Soon his neighbours too disappeared
Perhaps he too felt perplexed.

 

A bony kid, he grew up too soon
Why they waited ,he now knew
Fattened and fed, soon to be dead
He passes his days in mortal dread.
Whenever a death cry or a bleat ,he hears
He laments the loss of his brothers dear.
Still he waits, his sweet eyes, wild with fear
Are you the one ,who will choose him, my dear?
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