Tag: questions

Ripple On Our Radius

In vast countries where a billion different voices

Murmur in their work and mull in thought

Are the seeds of revolution because choices

Lack the freedom, doing what we ought.

In the stitching of the garments and the ploughing

Fields we furrow for vague greater good

There are questions as we bow our heads to tasking

Asking if we’re doing all we should

To be the one, the only one, we’re born to,

To realise the goals, the greater aims,

To be the actions that may speak because we owe to

Selves and world, justice in our names.

In the factories and countries wide where souls ache,

Trammeled while we’re working for the man,

Eked existence slowly lived while hearts break,

Years swiftly bypass doing, as we think, the best we can.

In the motion of the moon and yearly tidings

Howls inside are rising, seeking sky,

Portents of a future, bands of wildness,

Growling in the question, why me, why.

Dare we risk, in idle speculation,

The what ifs, should I’s, didn’ts, not my job,

Plodding on, a controlled automation,

While frustrations muster, gathering in mob.

Can we be the changes in our lifetime,

The only voice we’re given for a while,

Can we work and think, still being active,

Ripple on a radius within our mile. 

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Anna

I lay abed, lazy, this morning,

My 7 year-old wrapped in my arms,

Answering myriad questions,

Curiosity, (her default position!),

Just one of her many sweet charms.

Questions and reasons for answers

Leading to topics anew,

Pride in her thoughtful responses, humour

At so young, so much known, so true.

I lay abed, glad of the chances

To inform inquisitive mind,

Not surprised in the least but delighted

Her queries help me to open and find

Fresh ways of seeing the present,

The past, the memories we’ve shared,

Future unfolding before us, my fruit,

My treasures not spared

In giving, receiving, in loving,

She warms right through to my core,

My youngest, my sweet little Anna,

One of seven I truly adore.

Unplugged

Drawn from deepest recesses,

Risen from dead to haunt,

Levered occasions long buried,

Memories suppressed yet taunt.

A song, a whisper in spirit,

Voices exhumed from the past,

Post-mortem’d questions reflected,

Power unplugged with a blast.

Discovery

In dreams

I find the answers

To my searching,

In scenes

Depicted of

Another world.

On waking

I redeem

My body,

Reclaim my soul,

Exposed,

Quite unfurled.

Travels

Of a weird  and

Winding nature,

Travails

Enacted in

Etheric plain.

With smile

On lips

And laughter

Surging upwards

I rejoin life,

New perspectives gained.

 

Drenched

Attempt at a Shakespearean sonnet.

 

Would rain cease to fall if our love ended?

Oceans and waterways parched into land?

Clear skies disclosed, cloudy days transcended,

Drought and aridity forced by fate’s hand?

Should sun bursts of loving, scattered and few,

Cast shadows on earth and thirst for all man,

Could we forgive any need to eschew,

Or safeguard future as best as we can?

Drenched in outpouring of heavenly storm

We gaze into blue and plead for release,

Monsoon’s donation absorbed without harm,

Entreaties to god to hear earnest pleas;

Tempests’ cascades to shower forever,

Flooding bank balance of deepest river.

Strength

Give me reasons. I need reasons.

Sometimes love is not enough.

                        Give me choices. I need choices.

                        Sometimes fear makes choices tough.

Give me answers. I need answers.

Sometimes answers are hard to take

                       Give me peace, please. I need peace.

                       Sometimes peace is a welcome break.

Take my mind, please. And my heart.

Take my hands and show the way,

                        Take my freedom and captivity,

                        Take my feet and lead away.

Give me patience. I need patience.

Take my restless spirit and hold.

                        Give me balance; equilibrium,

                        Calmer life, but with actions bold.

Leave my worries and my thoughts, please,

In a lake that’s deeper than miles,

                        Remove the fretting and the workplace;

                        All the trials that forsake my smiles.

When it’s written I feel better,

Like an ocean has subdued, consumed

                       All the reasons that in life I

                      Have been wound up; upon presumed.

Now the melee is behind me

And my refuge is in sight,

                    Quieter moments, pad and pen here

                    Soothing words I have to write.

Gentle thrumming, plucked in time, the guitar chords

Within my mind, music strumming, tempoed to my written words.

                   There are reasons why we suffer, moments lost that crush the soul,

                  Angry thoughts blurring serenity, fragments chipped from what is whole.

I can do this, just like you can, I can rise up after fall.

Time to think, pull together, remember why I’m here at all.

                   Too much doing, no time to think, too much action, moments lost.

                  Days like this, in life so chosen, I stop, at last, to count the cost.

Arena

Arena fills swiftly and fills with speculation.

Sacrificial blood fills the air.

Such jubilation!

Audience cries for action;

Sensory exaltation.

Even death; such minor revelation.

Gladiators sweat the cause,

Armed for action;

Such tribulation.

Come then the lions fierce,

The enemy, all known;

Extreme vexation.

The fight ensues;

All blood spilled,

An exhortation

To gods

Of direst fate,

More suppuration.

Spurts gore, entrails and guts;

Some sweet salvation,

In knowing death was priced ; someone’s  salvation.

In horror,  so some seek

Fortification.

No answers thus, just haunted devastation.

Come one who fills the night

With expectation.

 A clearer sense of self; manifestation.

For all that exists

Here, now, prepare

Justification.

Sometimes……

For every moment there is a rightness;

Sometimes that moment is now.

For every question there is an answer;

Sometimes that question is, ‘how?’

For every problem there’s a solution,

Though sometimes found without aim.

For every man there’s a woman;

Sometimes the question’s the same.