The Bridge

The Bridge

Ever heard 'Bridge' the differences?

Ever heard 'Bridge' the gaps?

Of a bridge one can make several inferences,

Most importantly two ends together it clasps.

A bridge is a binding force,

One of many a name.

To the force that many endorse,

But their work is all the same.

Some call it the cementing material,

Of the building blocks of the society.

Yet others find the description unreal,

But hey! I'm not here to discuss their anxiety.

The Bridge seems fine by me.

And it wouldn't be wrong to think,

That we need lots of them to be,

For the people to interlink!

For the society to act as one,

For communities to be united.

Many ideas are born under the sun,

But none of them have left me so delighted!

So let's create bridges wherever we go!

For they be the seeds of happiness we sow.

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The Laughing King

The Laughing King

Once upon a time, in a land not far away,

Laughter was all that'd be heard through the day.

For it had a king whose all interests lay,

In laughing at jokes throughout the day.

The king in his dwelling had a score of clowns,

Professionals, hired from the best of towns.

Practical jokers too, were high in demand,

To quench the laughter of the king of the land.

The battalion of clowns and the army of jokers,

All had the same job offers:

Keep his majesty's pot belly jumping up and down,

And take home his own weight of silver crowns.

For money to the state was secondary,

And a happy king to the people meant prosperity.

But even when the things were all good and smooth sailing,

There certainly were lots of serious things worth discussing.

And so the ministers would hold a grand meeting,

For the king, there'd be arranged a special seating.

And while the ministers would argue and debate,

The king in his chair, would keep shifting his weight.

And would occasionally wipe some sweat off his brow,

He'd wish he could just run away from there somehow.

He'd really miss all the clowns and their jokes,

And would sadly wait for the arguing folks.

To just come to an agreement for a second!

Huh... I hope it doesn't take long he reckoned.

And then! As if by magic they all stopped!

And brought forth a new resolution to adopt.

Finally, the king had been relieved,

A long sigh of relief he heaved.

And he could now attend to the more important matters at hand,

Like laughing his wits off till no more jokes he could stand.

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Snowflakes

Snowflakes

United they come as the winter dawns,

Blanketing white, the hedges and the lawns.

Formed in the sky, millions of icy shapes,

For the trees, make the perfect winter capes!

Swirling slowly as they descend,

Young and old, they befriend.

A soft white fleece they come to be,

Over which, the delighted children ski.

Fluttering as they float in the winter wind,

Each one different from its fellow twin.

Bearing the most intricate patterns and designs,

Each in its brilliance, incandescently shines.

Glistening like gems in the moonlight,

Setting ablaze the darkness of the night,

They swirl and swirl and forever descend,

Till at last into the landscape they blend.

******************

End of The Road

End of The Road

It feels as though you've nothing more to give,

It feels as though you've nothing left for to live,

Left all alone without a comforting friend,

It's apparent that the road has come to an end.

The daylight is covered by a veil of darkness,

Life seems to you but a beautiful mess.

And to your open wounds with no one to tend,

It's apparent that the road has come to an end.

Where has all your strength gone you wonder,

Where did it all start to go wrong you ponder.

Wondering if your ways you'll ever mend,

It's apparent that the road has come to an end.

Standing at life's crossroads helpless,

With no words to express your distress.

When finally you run out of happiness to pretend,

It's apparent that the road has come to an end.

Just get out of your grief for an instant,

And fix your gaze on that 'end' not so distant. 

For what you yourself made a so called 'end',

Was actually nothing more than a mere 'bend'.

************************

The Ark of Good Hope

The Ark of Good Hope

Our ship; our vessel is battered and damaged,

Sleepless nights have left the crew famished.

And over each and every decaying log of wood,

My worthy crew, once pompously stood.

But now, they're thrown to every corner,

I beg of them to bear with me a little longer.

The raging storms have left us all battered,

And the black horizon above: hope's shattered.

Oh how we long to the warmth of the sun,

Oh if we could lay our hands upon some bun!

But I've got keep them from wailing and despairing.

You see? I say. Our hope, the Ark's still sailing.

We'll soon make it ashore, to the bells,

To the harbour, the sun and the sea shells.

Oh men get up and take your positions,

We won't abandon the finest of expeditions!

And ah! finally! Some hope within them stirs,

The storm we then faced, my memory it blurs.

Yet when we opened our eyes through our shrouds,

Our star; the sun, shone brightly through the clouds.

Oh wake each of you from your deathly slumber!

The Most Merciful has made the storm encumber.

And see! At a distance is an earthly piece of land,

Our ship will now only rest on its golden sand.

Our ghost ship was greeted with whistles and bells,

And although my tattered Ark now peacefully dwells.

It's safe in the harbour but that's not what it's for,

It's meant to sail the oceans, it's meant to explore.

Regardless of it being made of wood and scrap,

It's meant to sail beyond the edges of the map.

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Gladiator

Gladiator

Standing by the Colosseum's door,

In the shimmering armour he wore.

He grunts and takes a step forward,

As the massive doors open inward.

His metal chains clink as he paces,

Staring up at the thousands of faces.

That greet him with screams of death,

Fueling the gladiator's so fiery a breath.

A table is laid over which the blades rest,

He tries them all, then chooses the best.

The choice of which he makes,

There is no room for mistakes.

The sun batters down upon the field,

He looks upwards and raises his shield.

Standing at a distance is his foe, 

His death would be painful and slow.

Both ready to fight till the death'd bite,

Either or both of them and end this fight

With no further thought they charged,

As the massive doors were barred.

The crowd burst into screams of life and death,

As dodging a blow, he swore under his breath.

His adversary was furious, he no less,

Each move counted, like a game of chess.

Blows he'd dodge and blows he'd give,

It was for what he'd come down to live.

The crowd chants death as if it were a hymn,

Spilling blood had become routine for him.

And when it was felt they fought equally hard,

One swift move of his caught the foe off guard.

The crowd erupted into screams once again,

As it looked like he won his part of the bargain.

The foe numb with pain, started to sway,

Death for him was just a fatal blow away.

He crouched, now at the mercy of his foe,

Closing his eyes, awaiting the final blow.

With a sword in his hand, a helpless foe at his feet.

The dominance he felt, was strangely incomplete.

Although the sword he bore was at his will,

Ready to strike down his worthy kill.

A faint conscience somewhere within him stirs,

Which expeditiously grows till him it blurs.

An ominous silence now covers the crowd,

As guilt, now hovers above him like a cloud.

Astonishingly, his sword rises to take the blow,

Bringing it fiercely downwards then he lets go.

It's a moment previously  unwitnessed in history,

That someone lets go an inch away from victory.

The crowd, their mouths now wide open,

His deed, screamed what couldn't be spoken.

Cowardice! Someone from the crowd bellowed,

Soon enough, across the Colosseum 'coward' echoed.

He ignored them and turned around,

His feet still felt shaky on the ground.

But his mighty heart was content at last,

Never had he felt happiness so vast.

His foe though hadn't forgotten his part,

He had long practised, mastered the art.

The final blow, he was the one to impart,

As he put his sword through a content heart.

And as he fell, a feeble smile escaped his lips,

As with both hands his bleeding heart he grips.

The feeble smile now a painful laughter,

As he'd achieved the much sought after.

The hooting crowd now fell dead silent,

Was the scene for them a bit too violent?

Or perhaps the dead had become the valiant? 

Hearts were moved. That was apparent.

And even as the gladiator peacefully lay,

People had learnt a lesson, if only for a day.

****************************

The Radioactive Man

The Radioactive Man

This is my humble tribute to the radioactive man,

Who returned to the nightmare from which everyone else ran.

And for 4 years, he's been working hard,

In a region from which everyone is barred.

The Fukushima incident  brought great suffering,

Yet the survivors had someone for their comforting.

But what about those who were left behind,

Living souls like us, their salvation denied?

A great population, pretty much like us they were,

Then what? They were left all alone to suffer.

Some were left as they were, in cages or chains,

Others roamed helplessly, scouring the drains.

This was the plight of the animals of Fukushima,

About rescuing them? Neither a  plan nor a schema.

Their road was more or less heading to a dead end,

But there just happened to be for them, a luck bend.

By the way, who said heroes were young folks?

Naoto Matsumura is worth dozens of those blokes.

At 50, his family are the pitiable survivors,

Of the 12.5 mile radiation zone with no supervisors.

He'd returned for them, knowing the risk,

Whose effects on his body'd be quite brisk.

In a city where nothing's left but standing stone,

'The Guardian of Fukushima's animals' he's known.

Lives in his farm, surrounded by animals,

He being the admiral, they his generals.

Alone he takes care of not only cats and birds,

But of dogs, rabbits even cattle and their herds.

"I couldn't have cared less" he casually says,

When people point out radiation and his ways.

Redefining love and affection here comes a man,

We proudly call him, 'The Radioactive Man of Japan'.

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Dreams

Dreams

Close your eyes! And get ready to dream,

Light 'em up with your imagination's gleam.

Create an intricate mystical world of your own,

Fill it up with all the quixotic stuff you've ever known.

The closed door that's blocking your view,

Gently knock at it and just walk through.

It's the door of imagination, of fantasy unheard,

Which as a rule would seem most absurd.

Take a walk in the gardens of fantasy,

You shall come to face with a reality.

The reality of dreams, so profound, so true,

It's sparkling beauty, hiding in plain view.

Dream as though you never could have thought,

Of all the beautiful places you ever sought.

Of open fields, warm sun, and the unending sky,

But, most important of all, never let them go wry.

For they are different, original like people's views,

And now as such I'd quote Sir Langston Hughes:

"Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die,

Life is a broken-winged bird,

Unable to fly."

"Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go,

Life is a barren field,

Frozen with snow."

Thus, dreams are precious and now you know why,

So wake up every morning but don't say good bye.

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The Philosophical Kid

The Philosophical Kid

The world was a strange place for a little kid,

He used to feel accountable for all that he did.

There was no evil in that world he knew,

Only good. In everyone. That was his view.

Yet, one thing about that child was really odd,

That clothing of all sorts, he'd label them as fraud.

It was a strange fact, very strange indeed,

But the little brain had an explanation for the deed.

For it would change the people he'd recognize,

Not people exactly, their personalities to be precise.

The way they'd walk, and how they'd behave,

It would all confuse the little child so naive.

From casuals to fancy suits and dresses,

Their behavioral changes met his guesses.

Expensive clothing had a serious effect,

The clothes themselves demanded respect!

The child went on and on with his imagination,

He concluded. It was all an act of domination.

With the clothes ironically, the masters,

And the people; slaves of their captors!

People could only behave, he admitted,

The way their fancy clothing permitted.

And obliterated was the idea of men born free,

Enslaved they were since their first clothing thought he.

And while fancy clothes stood by waiting to be adorned,

An innocent little kid, into a philosopher had transformed.

*******************************

As If Time Stood Still

As If Time Stood Still

It was as if the time stood still,

 Down the valley and up the hill.

Across the fields and round the corner,

Van Gogh's works did him great honour.

It was as if the time stood still,

When the peasants tore down Bastille.

When they marched in, chanting slogans

Death upon the king was their only notion.

And yet again, time stood terribly still,

As the atom bombs made their first kill.

Vaporising all there ever was of happiness,

Bestowing upon them profound darkness.

Stood back and patiently waited  time and tide,

As the first man-made bird stretched it's wings wide.

Made up of but spruce and canvas,

Effectively clothing it's wooden truss.

Time must have stood still and watched,

As humans, one small step up we notched.

But that small step was one of its kind,

It was one giant leap for mankind.

Caesar fell as the time watched,

Some say that it had even stopped.

Bursting through his heart was a  dagger,

His once most loyal friend was his attacker

Clocks of that room stood still in a silent awe

As it was the single greatest thing they ever saw.

Having cracked the Enigma, stood a team of men,

Hitler and the Nazi were defeated only then.

*******************************************

The Stone Face

   The Stone Face

It was but an anonymous face,

Of a man of an unknown race.

Of some great leader perhaps,

Someone who'd redesigned maps.

It was as if he watched over the town,

And in all these years, he didn't frown.

The lines on his face were smooth,

Of a man, at the prime of his youth.

There he was, engraved in a hill,

His face, carved with great skill.

Highlighting his presence was a folklore,

Justifying its integrity, people swore.

According to the legend, the people were sure,

That the great man had never walked their shore.

He was yet to come, a harbinger of good,

They longed to see him, if only they could!

One fine day, the mysterious man appeared,

Just according to the legend they'd reared!

"It's him!" Shrieked an old woman with delight,

As she opened her door to the man, gaily bedight.

He was taken aback by her sudden reaction,

Couldn't decide the next course of action.

The woman then held out her hand, pointing afar,

At his stone face, as radiant as an evening star.

Astonished he stood, in an awe,

Couldn't digest what he just saw.

Before he could pull himself all  together,

The old woman had left, full of endeavor.

Spreading the news, she ran from house to house,

And through the orchards, sleeping men she'd rouse.

They had all started to gather around the man,

Without any delay, with all his might he ran!

For little did he know of what was happening,

All he knew to save his life he was scrambling.

And they darted after him like maniacs,

Trying to stop him dead in his tracks.

He ran expeditiously to the shore,

Untied his boat that was offshore. 

And by the time to the shore they'd drawn,

Their long awaited legend had already gone.

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Hahaha unexpected ending huh? I just love twists here and there in the plot. Hope you all enjoyed it!

The Cave of Lost Dreams part 2

Continued............

"Ah! I see it's the scroll you seek",

"Enchanted by the cave's mystique".

"The scroll has only twice been previously opened.",

"Well I must have deserved it" the prince reckoned."

The prince reached out and took the scroll,

As himself, he could no longer control.

The old man retreated, yet said nothing,

His strange manner indicated something.

Finally he spoke, his manner grave, voice commanding,

The prince wondered what would he now be demanding?

"People have killed, been killed for the cave."

"And it's secret lies beyond the scroll I gave."

"Even so, what makes ye think ye'll find it?"

In ominous silence he stood, facing the twit.

"It invokes not in men mere curiosity.",

"It beseeches in them vulgar brutality."

The prince could now visualise in his head,

Blood being shed and entire armies dead.

He looked at the scroll, expressions grim,

Took a deep breath, handed it back to him.

The prince was nihilistic all over again,

The cave was indeed far beyond his domain.

He had finally looked forward to something,

But all his elation was chipped down to nothing.

Then for the first time in a while the old man smiled,

His expressions returned back to being soft and mild.

"Noble prince is thy dream this short lived?"

"That ye won't get up once you've tripped?"

"But would reaching the cave do me any good?",

"For it's a place of beauty, nothing else I've understood."

"My father's kingdom stretches far and wide.",

"With landscapes that hath left men open eyed."

"The cave of lost dreams.." The old man began,

As if it were all a part of some master plan.

"The cave of lost dreams or as it is said,"

"Is a place where dreams go once they're dead."

"But what's in it for me, the prince bluntly enquired",

"It holds all that thou heart once deeply desired."

"Happiness ye shall find of all sorts and kind",

"Wasn't that what thou were dying to find!?"

And yet again the old man's mystical ways,

Left the prince aghast, without a phrase.

The old man handed him back the scroll,

"Ye are now fit enough to pursue thou goal."

He turned to the door to depart at last,

"Who are you?" The prince suddenly asked.

The old man halted, his hand on the doorknob,

The prince's heart started to violently throb.

He turned around wearing a strange smile,

That sent a chill down his spine for a while.

"I'm the guardian of the cave I just told you,"

Opened the door and went straight through.

The prince went back and sat on his bed,

And reflected upon what the old man said.

He then opened the scroll after all,

Which hath never failed to enthrall.

What he saw of it eluded him,

But nevertheless excited him.

For it was a riddle like none he had seen,

And so adamant to solve one he'd never been.

On a parched, old paper with plush black ink,

Was written something it'd take  years to think.

For an ordinary man perhaps but not him,

Cause solving it had now become his whim.

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The Cave of Lost Dreams part 1

Writing is an underestimated art. People should heed the gravity of the fact that we writers paint colorful pictures in people's minds using mere words of black. That being said, Oh and happy Friendship Day dear viewers. And it's a Sunday as a matter of fact so yaay. I may have an extra post for that. So anyway 'Dreams'. What are dreams? Dreams believe it or not are in some way or the other related to happiness. They kind of give incentive to people to look forward to a new day. And this quote; "The richer you get, more expensive happiness becomes." I don't remember the author of this quote but, it's so deep and true. Dreams are what we all look forward to in life. We associate the fulfillment of that dream with happiness and contentment, and we pursue it with all our vigor and might. But, what if someone has no dreams? Someone has no reason to wake up every morning? Someone always searching for something but has no idea of what it is. And so is the story you all are about to go through. Of a Prince, who finally finds a dream and dares pursue it. 

The Cave of Lost Dreams

This story should particularly interest you,

Cause it has to it a rare and a mystical hue.

It's a story unlike anything you've previously read,

Of a noble prince, warm at heart and cool at head.

A young man he was, full of hope and means,

But oddly enough, he had no wishes or dreams.

He had everything that the heart could desire,

From horses and servants to the best of attire.

Yet had nothing to wake up to every morn,

And would often wonder "why was I born"?

And yet he was a man most kind and just,

In all of land well known for his trust.

And thus, everyday the prince would set out,

In quest of some exotic dream, full of doubt.

And he'd ask his people: what were theirs,

They'd turn up to be for him, petty wares.

Ever so unmotivated, yet he treaded on,

And would be gone from dusk to dawn.

But one day, illness caught him at bay,

Retiring him to bed, all sore and gray.

Finest doctors in all of land were called up,

But none could get him on his feet, back up.

They'd say he'd drunk from the death cup,

And long ago on his life he had given up.

The king, sent for the wisest man he knew,

As more worried and enraged he grew.

With an air of humility the old man turned up,

With a flowing white beard and face cheered up.

His face was illuminated with a brilliant white glow,

Peace upon the king and his family he'd come to bestow.

He then gently moved in into the prince's room,

And motioned everyone to stay out of the room

.

He took a plush chair by the prince's bed,

And in his mesmerizing voice he said:

"Dear prince, how hast thou fallen so low?"

Then replied the prince, his voice soft, words slow.

"Death for me is a peaceful retreat",

"and its nothing to fear for the elite".

"My Lord has been to my to entirely merciful",

"But I'm afraid myself together, I cannot pull".

"So what's thy last wish?" Enquired the old man,

"Narrate to me a story for you are a wise man."

The old man's eyes gleamed in excitement,

And stroked his beard, full of incitement.

"I shall narrate to thy a beautiful narrative",

And thus he began in a manner so imperative,

There's a cave he said." Aye a cave like none other."

"To get to it, a man would slay his brother."

And what is it called inquired the latter,

"The cave of lost dreams. Of dreams that'd shatter'd."

The prince had been mystified, sat bolt upright,

Thus continued the old man, his eyes ever so bright.

"In a remote corner of this busy world",

"There lies a cave, in itself, peacefully curled".

And he said a cave of mesmerising beauty it was,

"Explorers from all over the world it draws".

He demanded "Tell me of its location!",

The prince was clearly getting impatient.

"Noble prince thy must first be patient",

"for indeed, unsuccessful are the impatient".

He immediately regretted, apologized for his actions,

For they were accompanied by the strangest reactions.

"The cave is a place of impeccable beauty",

"But, to know further you'll have to fulfill a duty".

"And what would that be?" He inquired,

For he had now definitely been inspired.

"Promise me thy will get well soon",

"And never again shall thy swoon"

"For you shall find the cave; it's thy dream",

"And will be fired up with a new self esteem"

And so, the wise old man took his leave,

His visit had an effect none could perceive.

The prince astonishingly started to get well,

And felt that In his bed, he could no longer dwell.

And he read more and more of the mystical cave,

To find it, his heart had made him to crave.

With books around his bed, all piled up,

He had decided that he'd now pack up.

He'd long waited for the old man to be back,

He thought as he stared out into the black.

And suddenly, there was a knock on his door,

Quivering with excitement, he jumped to the floor.

And as he reached out to the door,

It was the old man, of it he was sure.

And he opened the door to that same soul,

But this time, in his hands he had a scroll.

"Ah my prince, how well can you now stand!"

But the prince's senses were fixed on his hand.

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Huh I couldn't find pictures that would go with the first part of the poem. Nevertheless, for the second part and the actual cave, I've come across loads of awesome pics. So, see you all next week with more from my best work till date. So long then. Ciao!