The Last Harvest

-

 



Sweat falls into cracked lines of time,

Dry earth rests upon my worn face.

Yet hidden seeds of hope remain;

In ash, old dreams still find their place.

***

Grey hairs rise like stubborn wild grass;

Still I turn the soil once more.

Time spits upon my face-I plant again,

Though life feels like a binding chore.

***

Ancient aches within my bones,

Songs of loss I cannot name.

Seasons and sons taught me to bend,

Yet every wound still burns the same.

***

Family and fields-mere strokes of luck,

When seasons bless, life takes its yield;

But when time turns its face away,

All turns to waste, like choking weeds.

***

No cup is free from hidden poison;

Such luck is rare in any life.

We drink what time has mixed for us,

Bitter as truth, and sharp as strife.

***

Debts rise and fall through our lives;

Like tides that never truly end.

Like an old slave bowed by the years,

Yet still I refuse to break or bend.

***

A rope hangs tight ’tween love and demand;

We strain like bulls that plough the land.

Pulling on without a pause,

Bound by need, yet giving all.

***

Poison flows within my veins;

Still my mind denies its age.

New seeds grow before dim eyes,

Writing life on another page.

***

Under this harsh, burning sun,

I stand bound to something still-

Slave to one chain or another,

Yet I bend, but not my will.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

No Season to Stay

-
Image
  No Season to Stay ...................................... In the ashen hush of dawn, where smoke supplants the mist, I stand-rooted in a silence no longer innocent. / I ask myself- what, in this fractured earth, still belongs to me? / Are these roots an inheritance, or a quiet sentence I was never meant to escape? / Seasons once arrived as gentle confessions- now they stagger through ruin, indistinguishable from grief. Did they ever intend to remain, or was I the one who believed in their return? / I have bloomed beneath borrowed skies, unaware they would one day burn. Was that light ever mine, or merely a fleeting mercy before the fire? / The wind no longer carries whispers- only the residue of endings. If it scatters what I am, what, then, is left of me? / Rain falls, but not to cleanse- it mingles with dust and memory. If it can blur even the ground I stand on, was this place ever certain? / When distance grows between lives, is it loss- or the only language survival understand...
Read more

Sixteen Days

-
Image
Sixteen days have passed in pain, Time moves slow like endless rain. Walls still stand, but feel so bare, Since I cannot find you there. Morning comes, but feels so weak, Your soft voice I still do seek. Used to wake with gentle call, Now there’s silence in it all. In the kitchen, still and cold, Lives the warmth the past once told. Old stone mortar waits for you, Like it knows what it must do. Pestle rests; it does not sing, Missing hands that life would bring. Pressure cooker, silent, still, Has not whistled by your will. Washing stone has lost its cry, Cloths lie still and left to dry. After beats your hands once gave, Now it rests, so cold, so grave. Tap has learned to not let flow; Water waits, but does not go. Like it knows you’re not around, So it holds its silent sound. Well rope hangs; it does not cry, Pulley still-no creak, no sigh. Every corner feels this loss; Silent hearts no words can cross. Pills and syrups, lined in rows, Swallowed all the healing hopes. Bot...
Read more

The Unseen Prize

-
Image
  We chase the gold, the gleam, the name, The world applauds, we play the game. Trophies shine on crowded shelves, But leave us asking of ourselves: What truly stays when lights grow dim, When echoes fade from every hymn? What can be held when hands grow still— What fills the soul, beyond the will? You gave me wealth, a mansion wide, Yet peace refused to step inside. You offered praise, a roaring crowd, But silence spoke more clear, more loud. The joy you felt from work well done— A battle fought, a summit won— You shared your tale, I heard it all, But still I felt no rise, no fall. For some rewards are not to give, They're carved inside the way we live. A lesson earned, a truth embraced, Cannot by others be replaced. The love that bloomed from hands that healed, The scars that time and trials sealed, The quiet pride from choosing right— These cannot pass from soul to sight. So chase the things that feed your flame, Not fleeting wealth or borrowed name. The truest prize, no one can...
Read more

Symphony of You

-
Image
  1 <3 U   2gether = ∞   4ever & always   U = my 1️⃣   me + U = 2️⃣💫   3AM thoughts → U   4 letters: L♡VE   7 days = missing U   24/7 = U on my mind   100% real, 0% fake   @heart#beats = U   $oul ∞ tied   *Us* > everything   :) → when U smile 😊   :( → when U’re gone   ❤️ + 🔐 = forever In symbols and signs, your love I see, A language of hearts, pure and free. From "1 <3 U" to eternity’s call, Your words echo deep, enchanting all.   You are my universe, my shining star, Together infinite, no matter how far. Through midnight thoughts and daily grind, Your love’s the melody etched in my mind.   A simple "U" holds worlds inside, A vow of forever, none can hide. In every smile, in every tear, Your presence is my heart’s sincere.   So here’s my ode, in symbols and grace, A love that time can’t e...
Read more

India-The Shore of First Light

-
Image
The Shore of First Light unfolds like dawn’s first vow, Where rivers stitch silver tales through yielding land; Mountains stand, like elders guarding ancient truth, And forests breathe, as if the earth itself could pray. Women rise from soil like memory made flesh, Not shaped by hands, but formed by becoming whole; They pulse as life’s enduring wealth and wisdom, Teaching the world the art of being alive. Evening drifts in like a whispered benediction, Cool sandalwood resting softly on the air; The sands, like scripture, keep the gods’ faint steps, Where time, unbound, dissolves itself to myth. Here the divine once touched the mortal shore, As flame meets wick to birth the will to dream; Desire learned its name without shame or fear, And longing grew into a sacred song. Non-dual light shimmers like a single breath, No line divides the sky from human skin; Prayer and body move as one clear rhythm, Teaching that wholeness knows no opposite. Ten sacred footsteps echo on this ground, Each ...
Read more

The Road Where You Left Me

-
Image
Our country road, a stage for a silent ballet, Where gestures took flight through each passing day. A tilt of your head, a soft flicker of light, Deciphered my needs, made everything right. My hand reaching out—for a pen or a plan— Met yours with warmth, like only you can. No grand declarations, no eloquent plea, Just quiet communion for all eyes to see. The clinking of chai cups, a symphony low, While unspoken feelings continued to grow. We danced without music, spoke without sound, Built a whole world where love was unbound. But silence betrayed me—took you away, On that same road, you vanished one day. Not a word, not a look, not a final goodbye, Just your absence beneath a breaking sky. Now, only memories—sharp as a knife— Haunt every corner of my half-lived life. The bench by the tree, your favorite lane, Echoes with laughter now drowned in pain. I wait on that path, with a heart split wide, For a glimpse, a shadow, your step beside. But time is cruel, and absence is loud, I stand...
Read more

The Bucket

-
Image
  I am the bucket, simple, strong, and true, From ancient times, my purpose ever new. In bark and hide, my earliest form I knew, I fetched the water, cool and fresh, for you. I carried grain, from fields of golden sway, And nurtured seeds, through every dawning day. Through ages vast, I felt my form transform, From clay's embrace, weathering every storm. A wooden pail, with metal bands so bright, Or earthenware, in shades of dusky light. I hauled the soil, for farmers' patient art, And mixed the spoil, playing a crucial part. In grandest halls, I quenched the hearth's desire, And doused the flames of many a sudden fire. From muddy banks, I scooped the humble clay, Shaping new vessels for a brighter day. Then iron came, a metal bold and grand, My story whispered, across the changing land. A galvanized pail, with silver's stark appeal, Or tin's dull gleam, the weight of use I'd feel. I crossed the seas, on ships of timbered might, Bearing bounty, through the day a...
Read more

The Taste and Texture of Us

-
Image
The quiet hush of morning, I watch her rise, Life shared between us, beneath familiar skies. Some days are sweet, laughter spilling over tea, Other days bitter, sharp words from both you and me. Her touch is tender, soft as velvet on my skin, Chewy challenges test us, patience worn thin. I fold forgiveness slowly, like dough in my hands, She spreads understanding, gentle as shifting sands. Shadows of old arguments sometimes remain, Crunchy pride breaks slowly, leaving small strain. Yet even in friction, a subtle flavor shows, A depth of love only our years could compose. In early days, love was fresh, bright, and new, Tangy surprises danced between us, spark and hue. Her laughter a fizz of champagne, wild and free, My heart, smooth chocolate, melting in company. We tasted adventures, sweet, bitter, and rare, Learning together, testing, daring to care. Even the tang of mistakes, the grit of our flaws, Added depth, seasoning life without pause. Then came seasons of weight, of stress and ...
Read more

The Lament of Unseen Sorrows

-
Image
Upon the silent edge I found her grace, No pallid shroud, nor clanking of a chain, But lullabies enwoven in her face, And ancient sorrow folded in her pain. She spake, "I am the shade of what untold, The grief unchristened, by the world unnamed. 'Postpartum,' they did call it, swift and cold, As if mere time such anguish had contained." No chilling draft, no whisper on the air, Yet felt I then the burden of her sight. She told of children, vanished past compare, Not lost to earth, but cradled from the light. For strangled dreams, ere breath their being drew, And joy, in infancy, by hands unseen, Were offerings given, bitter, stark, and true, The death of futures, where no light had been. "These are the ones no burial rites attend," She murmured low, "Thus must I ever bear." "Dear Jayan," once she breathed, "unto the end, I rode unseen, a shadow in your care. You turned not 'round, but hastened on your way,...
Read more