PSsst!

Elle led me deep into the woods. By a shallow stream,she stopped.

"There", she squeaked, raising on her hind legs.

I nodded.

The stream led into a dungeon."You're doing this, Prince?"

One last wink at the retreating mouse, then i sneaked in.

The Low dungeon became a cave and evolved into a thundering underground waterfall, lit by just a hole high above.Random steps down, i found IT. Camouflaged to the grim background, it lay there deep in slumber. The huge form breathing created ripples in the water.Sheathing sword, i hooked the double arrow.

Aimed, pulled and released.

STRIKE ONE.

The giant FROG woke with a cry. Lunar eyes found the tiny rebellian. Long tongue lashed out and my bow fell apart.Evil grin settled.

I was not done yet.
Shield and sword, i galloped towards it, with all my might.It leaped high into the air, bound towards my tiny form....its filght covered all distance...and its fall is about to squash me...

"Psst....Psst....FourB....fourth....FOURTH?"

I looked down.

4B. Who opposed the Moghal Dynasty?

I was making history alright! ;-)

PRINCESS

Frozen hands grip my heart
Heavy guilt burns my eyes
I lie down cuddled and shut them tight
Even tears fail in shame of being mine.

A year now has passed
But the memory, the pain...the loss
That moment of pleasure and days of indecision
Is like but yesterday.

I dream of her coming out of me
Kicking....screaming
With bright green eyes, her father's nose,
Brown curly hair, upturned lips....

I watch her grow...
Into a beautiful little PRINCESS
Dancing in her white frock
Like a flickering light, far upon the blue sea.

And there she remains forever
As i stop dreaming
As i stop breathing
Held in that shy smile of a daughter

MY daughter
Who had never been...

FIre!

It ai'nt a tough call.

With a broke father and a never-home mom,

Ai'nt a tough call at all.

Fate hung to my boat's sail,

No food, no coins, just my violin case,

And a fiery urge to follow my heart's trail.

Beaten, bruised, bleeding, i woke to the evening moon,

In the city of hanging dreams, and sweared to self;

"I'll rule the radio soon"

Cleaned tables, walked dogs and ran errands a few,

Survived weeks on raw fish and stolen eggs,

with haystacks to warm the tired night's dew.

Years down, an odd chance hit to play the midnight blues,

My Lord had pressing issues on hand i presume,

for I made music, while powercrisis made the news.

YET....

The melody of the wind,

Ignites a fire within,

that consumes all regrets and pain,

and leaves an unfliching armour....

of humour and HOPE!

Sheep Life!

I skipped the wall,

Quit the job.

Burnt the proof,

Of a "ME" who was!

Sick of the tyranny

Of routine and uniformity

Caught in the play

Of plugged, machined, daily living.

I fled,

From the sheep;evergrazing on wafers green.

From the shepard;just another sheep, fat and mean.

I ran, I ran, I ran...

To find a way to fly.

To shake aside the shadow of Black & White.

Walked among proud beasts,besides the sheep for once.

And swam against the tide.

I dreamt under my starry cousins.

And fought to live my dreams.

And so goes the story,

a myth, now a legend,

of a mole among YOU sheep!

The Last Shrub

Year-2089

The World is in war.
They burnt, they dug, they slew and they killed us all....a little later before they realised,they need us.

One Survived....

I lay hid, listening to the stream who brings me grievings of life that's left....

She tells me;

Of her fair cousins running red.
Of the stench of decay and death.
Of bodies...half burnt...half burried.
Of children, whose mothers wont see them become men.

And of MEN.....mad wild men.....seeking glory among graves....

I see the red sun....and i see my mother having the last laugh.

Alas! As last of my seeds drop...
I wish...
I wish...I could be EVERGREEN.
I wish...men had never been.

Magic

My eyes went blind with tears

Of not pain

Of not loss

Neither joy

Nor fear

But by the memory of those years

Clinging to the tip of my father's robe,

Wandering around farms,

Upon yellow hills,

Through sea and heavy mist.

On and On.

Singing our own song...

When a secret sip of his mead,

Or to kill a game by his blade,

Were the innocent dreams i relished to aim.

Tonight,

When sorrow becomes my shadow,

And grief makes it hard to swallow.

A walk down the line,

Of a life left so far behind,

Feels like heavenly dew,

flowing down the desert of my throat.

Such is the MAGIC,

My childhood has bestowed.

Conversation

Drooling monsters of my dreams turned to Fairies.

Getting wet in the rain, won over hot coffee by the fireside.

"Sure", always said my tongue, while "Cant!" screamed my mind.

By the window, beneath the moon, fetched me sleep. My AC failed.

Ducks and Doves amused me. And Dogs stared at me, I smiled.

Thoughts learnt to travel as SMS, and wishes, calls.

I called 3, a crowd.

And my heart learnt to live of its own.

HOW?...you ask....

Before the sea, beside my rigid self,

"Start a Conversation”, said she.

I did.

And so it all began...

as I ended up, confessing,

"I Love You".

Fireside Ballad of the Wings'of' Old

Aeons ago, hmm, so long ago,

Noon sun bright, my WINGS would glow.

Unto mounts, upon blue sea,

Carried them I, proud and glee.

Merry stirred my flight all day,

Living and dead alike, found me gay.

Blood-red blade, bow and arrow,

Riding a Dragon, came sorrow.

One spew fire, other harpooned spear,

that burnt my rear, and heart bled with fear.

Swift wing, quick wit, bourne by haste,

bound towards the clouds, where lay my fathers great.

Whirling, dodging, yelping and yelling,

they found my calling, and poured down hurling.

Slit! Rip! Scratch! Slash!

Valor and courage, stunned the rider and wormling,

and cowering they flew, like the wind of the MORNING.