• Five Poems

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    STILLNESS

    Still my room
    Is a lonely cave
    Tonight.
    Alone there’s nothing
    To feel or hear
    But the sad strain
    Of a night bird’s song
    Calling to a lost mate
    From a distance.

    Out there perhaps
    My soulmate is waiting,
    Lonely too.
    But alas she is faceless
    Unlike the newly awakened rose
    I saw this morning
    In my garden!

    * * *

    THE ROAD TO NOWHERE

    Time comes when we stop walking
    And contemplate where the road we are on
    Would lead us to.

    We believe we are on the right path
    To our successes and fulfillment of dreams
    And yet the end of the road is not reached.
    Then we stop walking again
    To realize that the road we are on
    Would lead us nowhere
    But to the grave.

    * * *

    ONCE I PICKED UP A STONE

    In my life I’ve picked up so many stones
    But what I couldn’t forget was that one
    I picked up from the silent and sandy shore.
    I was a child then and wanted to stop the waves
    From annoying the slumber of the shore.
    I threw the stone at the laughing sea.

    Where’s that stone now God only knows.
    BuI I like to think it’s somewhere far from the shore
    Deep under the sea among the sea anemones
    Untouched and resigned to its fate.
    I am now old and grey and waiting for Death
    To laugh at me.

    * * *

    AT HER LOVER’S FUNERAL

    She looks at his pallid face.
    How surreal the strangeness
    Of his countenance!
    At once it seems she doesn’t
    Know him anymore.

    Inside the coffin
    He recognizes not her mournful face.
    Do lovers become strangers
    At one’s funeral?

    Oh, God, what have you done to him?
    She shouts in her brain.
    Why take my lover away?
    I’m now lonely like a love-bird
    Whose mate has flown away
    Never to come back.

    She picks a red rose from the wreath
    Presses her lips upon the petals
    And gently places it
    On the coffin’s glass top.
    “Farewell, my beloved!
    This I give you with my aching heart.
    I can’t hold you now close in my arms.
    I can’t kiss your lips anymore.”

    * * *

    THE FLIGHT OF THE WHITE DOVE

    The white dove has flown away
    From the middle east
    Fearful of the clash of kinsmen
    And kindred, trailing the path of the wind
    To the southeast where a mighty giant
    Has awakened and claims the south seas
    All her own.

    Hear the cry of the white dove.
    Silently she prays under the old moon,
    “Let there be peace here lest the skie darken
    And the seas become poisonous,
    The air sick!”

    The white dove has flown back
    To the middle east still fearful
    Of the clash of warring kinsmen
    And their kindred.

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