Misty Eyes

veiled-1
Sue Vincent’s #Writephoto

Misty maven’s visit
Veils the mounts
Each day before sun saunters in
To lend its colors to all –

A fusion that fosters
Hope and harmony.
Can you sense the vibes?
Can you see the equity?

Open those misty eyes
Veiled with societal norms,
With self-written archaic laws
Look around and quit myopia

Living in the haze of past
Glowering at the inevitable change
Nursing prejudices that slash spirits
Wouldn’t change the color of blood.
© Balroop Singh

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

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Guardians

watchers
Sue Vincent’s #Writephoto

Frozen faces?
Don’t mistake them for stones
They are the faces of humanity
They tell the untold misery.

Sunburnt and sunken?
Don’t judge their color
They are unsung heroes
Tortured souls who refused to give up.

Ask the village elders
Their valor shines in their faces
They earned your freedom
They exemplify human values.

Sacrosanct sentinels of eons
Conceal sagas of savagery
Living reminders of venom
That is fed into human blood.

Wild flowers bloom around them
Comforting their distressed hearts
That still beat for those
Who value free thoughts.
© Balroop Singh

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

You can click here for more poetry.

Check my latest book: Moments We Love

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The Red Bridge

painted
Sue Vincent’s #Writephoto

We crossed the bridge and entered the forest.
Dense, dark, damp.
The uneven trail meandered
Roots of trees trounced our venture
But we trudged on.

Day four of our adventure ended at the same place.
Back on the same bridge,
Hanging over the pond
Painted by Mother Nature.
We stood confounded

Now what? We looked at each other
Four friends, full of fire
Explorations kept it ablaze
Such dead ends couldn’t douse
The light within that led us.

The red bridge was our anchor
But there were three of them
Two more we had to find –
Green and blue,
To win the rainbow contest.

The quest is on with
Cerulean sky – our sentinel
Green awning – our angel
Lucent gold – our mentor
Silvery Luna – our comforter
And each heart – the wanderer.
© Balroop Singh

Thanks to Sue Vincent for an inspiring Thursday #writephoto Painted

You can click here for more poetry.

Check my latest book: Moments We Love

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The Dance

dance
Sue Vincent’s #Writephoto

Ah! The invitation! The exhilaration!
A dream come true!

She looked forward to the dance party – an annual ritual that she had seen from the seams. Today she would be the center of attraction – the lady with the veil, an enigma for everyone.

Eager to see the lady, we started the long trek to the magical land, hoping to reach before getting dehydrated. A mirage that seemed so near yet kept receding.

A greenway led us to the circular dance stage. Mist melted as we neared the venue.

One beat converted the stones into drums. We watched, mesmerized by the music. The sun suddenly grew dim, as if commanded by some unknown force.

The crescendo could be heard beyond eternity.

And there she was! A perfect figure, as if chiseled by an artist, making her first appearance. Twirling round and round, creating a divine circle around her…no beginning…no ending, just like the circle of life – palpable, perpetual.

Many yearned to touch her but a weird circle of light whirled around her. Slowly she drifted into dusk. Just like life.
©Balroop Singh.

Thanks to Sue Vincent for a lovely Thursday #writephoto Dance.

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The Horizon

causeway
Sue Vincent’s #Writephoto

This image reminds me of a real story of two kids who thought that the sky and the earth meet and they would be able to touch the horizon. Everyday they watched in awe and yearned to go there. The day their moms left them in the care of their grandma, they got the opportunity. Holding each other’s hand they walked toward their favorite place. Grandma thought they must be playing with the ducks near the pond. Adventure ran through their blood.

They quickened their pace as the sun shone brighter. They walked and walked, far away to touch the horizon. When moms returned home in the afternoon to discover the missing kids, they were blamed for being careless and irresponsible. A frantic search ensued. Grandma rushed into neighboring houses, hoping the kids must be playing with their friends.

The big news was delivered to Mr. J. Singh, an authoritarian man with haughty demeanor who considered talking to women a waste of time. He was furious and thundered: “These women can’t even take care of two kids!” Only grandma could face his wrath and order him to send men all around the village. No success!

Having realized the gravity of the situation, Mr. Singh took his bike out and told grandma that the kids must have fallen in the canal. Mumbling some obscenities at the women of the house, he drove away to request the local authorities to stop the discharge of water so that the bodies could be retrieved.

Never could anyone imagine the delight at the face of Mr. Singh as he returned home with us, chatting away to glory! Grandma ran to the storehouse to carry round blocks of Gur (jaggery) to be distributed to all those who came to congratulate!

Nobody was interested in their story and who saved them!

Within hours, Mr. autocrat announced: “Catch the morning bus and go back to the city. I’ve had enough of your adventures.” Nobody dare argue with him but we tried. Still our vacation was cut short.

I was one of those kids and the other, my cousin.children-1586249__340

Balroop Singh.

Thanks to Sue Vincent for a lovely Thursday #writephoto Causeway.

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