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

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The Door

The door
Sue Vincent’s #Writephoto

The door that locked me in
The door that became my canvas
Ignited my creativity,
Stirred my numb mind
I am glad I didn’t unlock it!

The door that barred my way
The door that masked my mirages
Peeping outside was a sin
It taught me to look within
I am glad I learnt to introspect.

The door that sparked curiosity
The door that revealed the world
Delusions died with the door
Realism was stark and stormy
I am glad I could see!

The door that I shunned willingly
The door that I churlishly closed
To emerge saner, subtle minded
Positive vibes kept me snug
I am glad it nurtured me!

Till the walls weakened
Inspiring me to look beyond
All fears embedded in that door
I move into the realms of my choice
Into the world of love and peace.
© Balroop Singh

Thanks to Sue Vincent for an inspiring Thursday #photoprompt Forgotten 

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The Fairy Who Couldn’t Fly

Fairy
Image from

Born in the lush green woods
She was the darling of elf hoods
Who loved to play pranks
And hovered around the banks
Where she grew.

Her beauty could dethrone
The king of kings who hone
A desire to possess a gemstone
An unbridled undertone
That mentors our passion.

Teary-eyed she looked around
Tried to hear the strange sound
Why she had been bound
To those weird wires in a mound
Where she lay trapped.

Wan and weary she thought
Of fairy grandmother who had taught
Never show your weakness if caught
Lie still with a secret draught
Of desires that disconcert.

Years of subjugation and crippled wings
Smothered her joy with nasty stings
Slayed her passion for warm springs
Erased her yearning for all the things
She lost the longing to spread her wings.
© Balroop Singh

 

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Outside and Inside #writephoto

#writephoto poetry

The wondrous window…
Her world, her only real realm
That connected her with clouds
Outside and inside.

The edges of the windowsill
Smoother than paths she trod
Reassured her that she was safe
In the arms of her benefactor

All fears receded within her
She licked her wounds and soothed herself
As she looked out…calmness prevailed
Outside and inside.

Starry nights churned the storm
Shook her out of her slumber
Wobbling towards the window
She looked out at the streaks of light

Which shrieked…‘coward!
How could you concede defeat?
How could you enter your own grave?
Cringe inside and outside’

The glow of each dawn descends
Deeper into her deliberations
She looks outside
To confine conflagration inside.
© Balroop Singh
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Thanks to Sue Vincent for the inspiration.

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Sound That Resounds…And Guides

Sound that resounds

I could hear that sound
So familiar, so conversant
Stifled within me,
Smothered by visceral eyes
 
I could hear that sound
Coercing me to respond, to shake off
The primitive touch… tearing off
My spirit, my confidence, my vivacity
 
I could hear that sound
The fire crackling within me
The flames consuming my esteem
Shrieking… suffocation is excruciating
 
I could hear that agony
Imploring me to rise, to react
Reminding me of my resolve
To live with dignity, dauntless
 
I can no longer snub that sound
That inner voice, my mentor
My only benefactor, cautioning me
Not to die of asphyxiation
 
I can no longer wait for droplets
Of that heavenly nectar
Pretense is peeping through
That cloak of compassion
 
I can no longer remain insignificant
Your harrowing hauteur is oppressive
Forgive me for finding my own avenues
My gratitude goes to my spirit.
© Balroop Singh.

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