Muted by the Tiny

Sunset is no longer beautiful
As it reminds me of flames
That wolfed many humans.

The smoke of cremations
Changed its radiance
Even hues of the sky seem muted.

Sunset seems that robber
Who colluded with a tiny virus
To deprive many of their basic right.

Souls soar to meet the unknown
While we look teary-eyed
As each home is in mourning. 

Soot sits on the trees
Lending darkness to the sun
Its glory snatched by the pyres.

The mighty and the powerful
Look helplessly
No defeat was ever so enormous!
© Balroop Singh, May, 2021.

This poem tries to express the emotions of Pandemic affected people of India, clawed by Covid – 19.

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Crescent

crescent-moon
Sue Vincent’s #Writephoto

 

Crescent is complacent
It knows its glorious glimmer
Would wilt the transient cover
Of clouds that may seem threatening
Sun whispers hope.
~

I could hear the melodies
Of crescent moon that hung above
Darkness melted with the lilting sound
That merged in the symphony of sun
I chose life.
~

Skeptical of stepping
Into the wider world of hope
Where darkness disturbed the quiet
She stood rooted to the threshold
Shackled by false safety.
~

If the night was dark
A new day is smiling at the horizon
You hug clouds but I look at the sun
The harbinger of new hues
That speak of life.

© Balroop Singh

Thanks to Sue Vincent for an inspiring Thursday #photoprompt Crescent

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They Soar Higher Than Clouds

storm-clouds-1-1
Sue Vincent’s #Writephoto

Dark, rumbling clouds stirred him out. He stretched and looked around. Some of his friends were flying high but he couldn’t miss the sound – muffled yet clear.

“What are you digging?” Vendatta stood at the edge of the valley.
“Souls.”
“What for?”
“To lend… to exchange.”
“Really? But souls are said to be free. They soar higher than clouds.”
“Beliefs don’t misguide me. I know my passion.”
“Where do you find them?”
“Some are buried and some fly high. Some I capture and bury.”
“Can you lend me one?”
“Sure,” said the Digger.
“Can I keep it forever?”
“Depends! If you have the inclination and the strength.”

All his depression melted.
Vendatta was a changed man now. He knew his destination.

Thanks to Sue Vincent for an inspiring Thursday #writephoto prompt Soar

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I Know You

I know you well
I know how you barge in
With your muffled face
To rob us of our happy days

I know your icy fingers are eagerlySounds of death
Whetting their nails
To dig deeper into my veins
I have just one request…

Come softly…tiptoe into my room
Clasp me gently in my sleep
I know you are not so nice
But you can’t be cruel to me twice.

Come when the sky is soft pink
I may not be awake to see
My soul would soak in the beauty
And leave this earth with good memories

My truce with you doesn’t speak of love
You know I hate you
I have always hated since you
Deprived me of my childhood!
© Balroop Singh

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Darkness And Decay

hope

When I look at
The dark clouds merging into white
With the sun smiling through them
I wonder…
Aren’t dark corridors natural?
Don’t they creep in uninvited?

The sun lies within
Its glow can permeate all around us
Darkness dispels with its power
That streak of hope, that blue oasis
Beckons for beacon of light
Which scatters slowly

When I look at the rain
I wonder…
Is isolation so cathartic?
Isn’t merging so natural
Like drops of water falling…
Blending back bemused!

When I look at the fall
I wonder…
How beauty changes its connotation
Decay doesn’t decimate it
Golden gifts that Mother Nature gathers
Are treasures for posterity!

fall-is-beautiful

© Balroop Singh
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