RIGEL GREEN

Quill and Ink

 Copyright © 2021 by Rigel Green

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To Dady Ji, the beacon of my hope.
 Contents
1 The Old Man of my Neighbourhood 1
2 Euphoria 3
3 Masters of the Mediterranean 5
4 Ode to Solitude 8
5 Tomorrowland 10
6 Unclipped Wings 12
7 A Walk Alone 14
8 Ambit 16
9 Meandering miles 18
10 Hollow Craters 20
11 Nature’s Mirth 22
12 Blessing in Disguise 24
13 The Myna on my windowsill 25
14 Oblivion 27
15 Profound Peace 29
16 The Unprecedented Breeze 31
17 The Darkling Light 33
18 Beyond the Ocean’s Wave 34
19 A Petunia in the Garden 36
20 Hunting Humanity 39
21 On and On this wind goes 42
22 Divine Daughters 44
23 Daunting Dad 46
24 Independent India: The Call of the
Golden Bird 48
25 Her Majesty: The Timeless Time 50
26 Time Tyranny 52
27 Miss Understanding 55
 One

The Old Man of my Neighbourhood

I
was young, younger than a sapling,
When I saw an old man traveling
With a regal gait, towards his ‘home’.
A strange place twas, with nothing but floors!

The old man was tall, bent and quite askew,

He had charming hairs, like wild fescues.
Old he was, with hands thin and lissome,
Still, he bore his sweet fruits of wisdom.

The old man loved tempestuous rains,

He bathed in them; he danced hurricanes,
He bobbed his head wet in merry mirth.
Rains showed me his divine air, his re-birth.

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 Quill and Ink

Not long after the monsoon vanished,

I heard that the old man was banished.
I asked my mum pointing, “where has the old man flee?”
“Look out there,” she said, “he is the coconut tree!”

2
 Two

Euphoria

F
alling, Plummeting, Tumbling and Swerving,
I plunged myself into the casket of heaven,
And to my surprise, I found nothing so extravagant,
But a meadow full of surprise.

The sun so pleasant and warm,

And the meadows so bright and green,
The mere’s glistening eyes made me squint,
The birds trilling like Christmas chimes.

The daisies adorning the nearby dell,

And shouting loud to rouse nobody,
Only to hear a flock of Pegasi’s fervent neighs,
And unicorns wearing crowns of horizons.
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 Quill and Ink

Orchards were filled with oblivious fruits

Some glowing with a silver lining,
And others ripping with nimbuses and halos,
What more could a man want.

Athwart the sea beneath the meadows,

Came lively noises of Debussy’s piano,
And somehow across the dale,
Someone started to play songs without words on their harps.

Unencumbered and tranquil I tried to lay on the mattress of

meadow,
But then this paramountcy was broken,
When I felt that my euphoria was,
A special cwtch from my mother.

4
 Three

Masters of the Mediterranean

I When the days were cold and dark,

When the waves were higher than the mountains afar,
When the winds that blew were stronger than steel,
We became the masters of the Mediterranean Sea.

We passed the fords, dingles, coombs, and places,

Unknown to the world and God,
We crossed the oceans, basin, abyss, and depth,
To be called the master of the sea

The torrent of wind swelled across the briny sea,

The water rose like a dark and sable abyss,
Waves as high as human-giants they seemed,
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 Quill and Ink

But we fought it like lords of the sea.

We soon became the kings of the sea,

Sailing his turquoise stream
Many places and treasures we discovered,
For we were the kings of the sea.

II

But our final fate was in the hands of Kharid,

Rich was this bygone land; full of fantasies and vagaries,
And though our boat was ruined, our mariners old as death,
We crossed the sea as an old man of the sea.

Eccentric was our course through this accursed way,

Sometimes day, but periodically a sable night,
Sometimes quiet, but recurrently loud as a storm,
But we strode like the warriors of the sea,

That night when we saw mountains high, we rejoiced,

Kharid, was a dingle of the peak Bustadani
And soon the mountains were closer to us,
We rejoiced like a child of the sea,

But now the peak was stygian and black,

It was approaching faster than before,
It came and smote the galleon into the depths of the sea,
Alas! It was a tide and we the cripplers of the sea.

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 Masters of the Mediterranean

The tide engulfed the strong mariners,

But left me and ten others to survive the ill fate,
The shore was farther than the moon,
We lied in the ocean, to be the phantom of the sea.

III

Morning and a deafening roar woke the refugees,

And lo! We were in the coomb of Bustadani,
And Kharid was in the next ford,
We rejoiced like the saviours of the sea,

But out in the distance, stray and far,

There flew a lion with wings, human teeth,
Chimera- he was a myth of the lore,
It commanded as like the sailors of the sea.

It took us all on his back to the peak,

He showed us the way to the unprecedented north wind,
He held a book of wings and creatures, he guided us to the
azure,
We were the slaves of this Kharid Lord, just the people of the
sea,

And with that, we reached neither land nor the sea,

We saw the mysteries of Kharid and walked away to the
firmament,
Our greed and pride were over; we were welcome with no
choir,
Just our entire crew and we became the masters of the welkin.

7
 Four

Ode to Solitude

S
olitude, O dear solitude,
The counsel of the lost, a bridge for the enervated,
A bird for the wingless, a torrent for the still,
Thou speak the voice of peace.

Solitude, O dear solitude,

Your path is peculiar but stronger,
You, the wraith of realization,
You, the nymph of idealization.

Solitude, O dear solitude,

The bringer of new zeal and hope,
Just a frosty winter, before a cheerful spring.
Just a rigid storm, before a rainbow, you are.

Solitude, O dear solitude,

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 Ode to Solitude

You taught me the power of silence

The fluke to know the inner self
The fortuity to please only my soul.

I thank thee, solitude,

For standing strong like a brick,
For rekindling a fire lost,
For forging a new crown,
For waving a shaft solitary moonlight

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 Five

Tomorrowland

W
hen the light falls into a ceaseless abyss.
And the shadows crawl into creeks and ravines.
When life and death hang on a strand
Of myths and lore.
The day is approaching close

When the muffled trills dwindle above the rusty trees,

And the brooks babble over the dale,
When truth and lie becomes,
The same faces of a coin,
The day is knocking on the door,

When knowledge is blinded by narrow- minds,

And fervid stars chisel the sky,
When war and peace are a mirage
To heavenly solitude in the firmament.
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 Tomorrowland

The day eddies towards ‘Tomorrowland’

11
 Six

Unclipped Wings

I
am ready to rise and shine,
To unveil the happiness inside me.
To fly on rockets and build shrines,
To climb mountains and swim in the sea.

I am ready to laugh and cry with all,

Share my shoulder and help them stand.
To catch them when they fall.
Stretching out my hand.

I am ready to be a vessel of knowledge,

Lest they accidentally slip and fall.
And sometimes freight haulage,
For those afraid to call.

I am ready to bud like a flower,

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 Unclipped Wings

And fly endlessly like Alpine Swift.

I am ready to be a fierce cat when something is devoured.
And be vigilant like the eagle, observing its prey from the
cloud’s rift.

I am ready to emanate heat from the hearth,

But also, to provide relief as snow.
Albeit fall like autumn mashed but full of mirth,
And at last, be like spring respecting its foe.

I am ready to filter truth from lies,

And walk with inferior and superior the same.
But in this world can anyone even bid me goodbye?
Or walk away saying, “He was so imbecile and lame ”.

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 Seven

A Walk Alone

I
walk, a walk, that none had walked,
A path in which no bricks were laid.
To quench the thirst of my aloof soul
I walk the path unfrequented.

I walk, a walk, that none had walked,

Kindling the path with my lucent hope.
A hope which burns ceaselessly;
A hope silent and forlorn.

I walk, a walk, that none had walked,

To gaze at solitude’s soft shade.
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 A Walk Alone

To be the king of my conscience,

To be a master of myself.

I walk, a walk, that none had walked,

A path erratic just like me,
But sometimes it’s better to move out,
When you are an alien to a judging society.

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 Eight

Ambit

S
tare, stare into the raven sky
The darkness ignites its void,
When the trilling sound of the bird’s wane
And you are awake in the glorious land of silence.

When the night is dark, and I could hear

Nothing but my hushed breathing
And out of it appears the moon
Crescent and probably smeared.

And beyond this place of aloofness and solitude,

I am unafraid,
For the night is my dear friend,
And we crawl in the ambit of Leberte Heteglith
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 Ambit

Let there be light

17
 Nine

Meandering miles

T
he journey is long, tiring, and tedious,
Meandering like a dale’s sea.
The road slithers ceaselessly
Towards the caves of Glee.

Sloping into the boutique of trees,

Glissading over the rusty mountains.
And chasing the sky with its tarnished feet,
Twisting, and turning into turmoil steeps.

Swinging and sweeping through the thatched lands,

Dancing with the seagulls high,
Babbling with the brook, below the dell, To reach the bastions
of Glee.

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 Meandering miles

Breaking into a crawling causeway,

To cross the sinuous sea, Leading Into an eternal journey,
To the will o’ the wisp.

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 Ten

Hollow Craters

D
eeper than the oceans,
Powerful than the devotions.
Even brighter than the sun,
Is your brain, second to none.

Known for its knowledge and wisdom,

It was the talk of many kingdoms.
It helped people to become brighter than flame,
It was the aid of curiosity’s claim.

But over the years it has become dull and mundane,

Too bored and nothing to gain
Brain is growing too old and dumb,
Alas! See your knowledge’s outcome.

No remorse, no emotions, no knowledge nothing to compute,

20
 Hollow Craters

Just watching your lapse and not trying to refute.

It is pricked with dark cobwebs running around its veins,
It is now trying to heal its wound with its own pain.

Not blaming anyone, not raging at its host,

It has never seen itself so dull and paralyzed to boast.
Even it cannot fight with anger pride, and vengeance, its
haters,
Brain is now covered with large, hollow craters.

No one can save the dynamo brain,

Lack of knowledge and inhumane behaviour has overshad-
owed him with heavy stain.
But still being wise, and still indistinctive,
Said brain, “Precious things always become extinct.”

21
 Eleven

Nature’s Mirth

T
he rippling of the lake,
The hissing of the snake.
The swaying of the trees,
The buzzing of the bees.

The distinctive flights of the bird,

The bellows from the deer’s herd.
The clouds wandering in solitude,
The nightingale’s misty prelude.

The dancing beam of the sun,

The racoons chasing the sky for fun.
The bright meadows with a great big smile,
The clouds disappearing into a misty isle.

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 Nature’s Mirth

The placid waves of the daffodils,

The silhouette of a nearby hill.
The twitching of some faint stars,
The chirping of the cricket, from far.

The fondue of rosy raspberry

The chirping of canaries, so merry.
The fountains trickling in solace,
The glistening apple orchids with their jovial face.

The flapping of the rainbow-coloured butterflies,

Suddenly the squeaking of the chipmunks, multiply.
I really cannot describe the scene of nature’s mirth,
The joy and happiness coming from the earth.

O Lord I thank you, for making our nature so fresh and new,
The sun, the moon, the vistas, I owe everything to You,
And fill me up with the strongest will of any man on earth,
And let me face every moment and every tiding with mirth.

23
 Twelve

Blessing in Disguise

C
ovid virus, a Lilliputian with a vicious mind,
Attacked the world like a stubborn child.
And inadvertently imposed the art of new normal,
Even my cat has started keeping the ‘Meow Journal’.

Now hygiene is a necessary routine,

And the masks are the real queen.
The uniformity of heavy crowd, now we seldom see,
Life is now embodied in devices and screen.

Now I have seen my dad wearing shorts and work,

My sister responding wittily from the roof deck above.
My mamma focusing on her Yoga sessions,
And me christening my phone as, “My Precious”.

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 Thirteen

The Myna on my windowsill

S
wart was the night,
Swarthy was the dark night,
The night was growing colder,
The fog was heavier than a boulder,
The fire in my room was wan and white.

The wind was cracking my window,

It was blowing faster at my window,
It cracked and clashed, and then I heard
And caught sight of a beautiful bird
Myna was she called, escaping from her foe,

The stony autumn fled, the blithe spring cheered,

My myna, today flew to the distant mere
She flew, she came, she groaned, she swayed,
She was a ballerina, who danced and pirouette,
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 Quill and Ink

The days were again queer,

Stars were glistening like a rueful weep
The autumn was standing with a dried wreath,
And today the wind was resonating a violin’s trill,
Myna was sitting on my windowsill.
The wind was striding with a long leap,

The wind attacked again, it came with the mess,

It strode like a bishop in the game of chess
The wind blew over my lachrymal face,
It took away my Myna from my lace,
And I stood there, looking at the wind in the darkness.

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 Fourteen

Oblivion

T
he dolorous tales from the farfetched vaults,
The dark colours of the Ether roar,
The flexuous glens and barbed winds,
The dingy caves of the solitary empire,

The rills and lakes gleaming dark as the timid night,

The sun with its vague crimson eyes,
The dingy sky above the paradise
Commanding the dark caves with a foreign voice.

The day never grew old,

The sun never hid behind the folds,
The lakes grew darker than the days of yore
The trees whistled louder than before,

The barnacles grew in the parched land,

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 Quill and Ink

The crows trying hard to chase the horizon

The heaths shining like lapis lazuli
The chasms glowing like lilac

The springs ebbed,

The winters sank
The autumns sobbed,
The summers waned.

The sultry waves from the Stygian seas,

Then draught of agony rising above me
The clarion cries now so familiar,
The night so cosy yet rebellious,

The light retreats to the obscure land

And yet the sun with its large red eye,
And the lake with its dark dreadful drape,
Take a dip into the delusional Oblivion.

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 Fifteen

Profound Peace

W
rapped up in great big thoughts when relations
were not wrought.
When kindness and happiness were taught, and
wars were not fought.
Curled up in long dreams, where disparity blows off like
steam.
Where hope has a glistering gleam, and where everyone
works as a team.

Please stop the paradoxical “war is peace”, and stop being the
culprit of a decease.
See the life you ceased, see how people’s faith decreased.
Do not fire bullets like confetti, and launch missile-like
graffiti.
Not a single person is petty, and the greatest religion itself is
humanity.
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 Quill and Ink

We should all understand that war is not the solution, it is just

a mere illusion.
It is subjugating our brain and human evolution; we need to
act quick and recreate revolution.
Now it is out time to claim, peace throughout the land like a
burning flame.
No more blood, no more stain, it’s our time for a change ‘Let’s
proclaim’.

And thus, requesting all the nations, to maintain and strengthen

our relations.
Take time to praise god’s creation, and stop causing devasta-
tions.

30
 Sixteen

The Unprecedented Breeze

I
was trudging along with the swelling wave,
Kicking the sands and stones, watching the shore lave.
Angry, infuriated and sour as a lemon,
Feeling my body rage as a felon.

My spirits were low,

My mind giving a big blow.
Angry that I miss success’s last stride,
Failure was drowning me in a high tide.

Even the majestic seagulls flying, looked like arrows,

The cliffs soaked all the melancholy, looking like a vista’s
shadow.
The sand was burning in my feet like scourching flame,
The trees swaying wild and untamed; all is my mistake and
who to blame!
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 Quill and Ink

But without warning came a soft gust of unprecedented breeze,

And all my problems and anger ceased.
I visited my vision of elysian life,
Birds, animals, and even the seashells were chuffed and alive.

Seeing the beauty, I never realised,

This was the nirvana I idealised.
My problems were extinct, and my anger void,
Happiness was employed and everyone enjoyed.

But still, I felt like my soul was possessed,

A deep grave voice from within professed,
“Thank the halos and cherubs from the paradise,”
“For teaching you that anger, success, failure and all the
worldly mirage is a roll of dice.”

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 Seventeen

The Darkling Light

Creeping,
Gliding
And dancing
Like gentle stream
It fell on the trees.
Penetrated the deep woods with a big glee,
It was never shy, never too old, never weak, but always a
delight,
It shined in the darkness, reflected at the seas, and continued
its duties; while the peacocks sing, ‘Let there be light’.

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 Eighteen

Beyond the Ocean’s Wave

W
“ hat can you see in this isle,” I asked to the standing
horde enjoying the ravishing vistas,
All were peaceful and tranquil, and busy in
observing, while few replied.
Their opinions were clear like crystals; their points as smooth
as a silk
But I was still uneasy as the empty brow of the hill, for I still
couldn’t lead them to the right way.
And the reply came soon as I counted the 10th wave hitting
the shore,
And he replied, “I see joy everywhere, the cry of seagulls, the
swaying of the trees
The glistening jewelled rays of the sun” But I intervened and
asked “But what about the drowning waves
And the lifeless starfishes” and again he insisted he saw hope
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 Beyond the Ocean’s Wave

with the rising of the waves,

And the walking of the starfish nearby, but again I interrupt
now a little sad I asked, “Don’t you think it’s the destiny of
nature’s gifts”
Everyone glared at me asked what I see,
The reply came naturally, ‘Life’, and some jolly men seemed
not to understand,
And I explained that “Life is that wave which falls down but
again revives,
It’s that joy when the seagulls cry, it’s that hope which turns
the day into night,
And that starfish whose destiny always suffice” All were quiet,
and all were grey
For now, everyone watched the ocean’s silent riff, and all
watched it till the very end.

35
 Nineteen

A Petunia in the Garden

L
ike obstacles in the race of hurdle,
Anger is the most dominating puddle.
This is the tale I witnessed from my windowsill,
Of a beautiful petunia and a soft daffodil.

On a bright windy spring morning,

A bright future was forming.
Because petunia and daffodil were friends now,
They never fought because they made a vow.

But a deadly fate was yet to come,

In which their friendship would either succeed or succumb.
Because there came a wave of a deadly spell,
And all the flowers soon quell.

The last of them were petunia, amaryllis, daffodil, and daisy,

36
 A Petunia in the Garden

Their minds were very hazy, their thoughts mazy.

Their losses were immense and great,
They decided to live together and be good mates.

Amaryllis was incredibly pleased from

daffodil,
And so was Daisy with her friend’s skills.
The garden gleamed with daffodils appraising chats,
Petunia was angry with her friend; soon planning for combat.

Jealousy led petunia to sink in the ground, angry and scarred.

Her nature was distressful and marred.
The volcano in her head was fuming like a lightning spark.
She confessed her thoughts and left her friend stabbed in the
dark.

Petunia left with a strong resolution,

To leave daffodil because her pollens were nothing but
pollution.
But on her way to the northern lands,
The deathly winds took Petunia off her strands.

Her petals were crushed and devoured,

Her stem was cowered.
Her life bent and askew,
Alas! No friend to rescue.

Daffodil got the news of the disaster,

When the remaining chunks came with a wind which was a
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 Quill and Ink

lot faster(snow).
Daffodil enclosed the fragments and strangled her to meet
her friend.
And still trapped in the snow; this is how the two met each
other in the end.

Alas! Anger is a big mess,

It takes out all the happiness and makes you lifeless.
Don’t be gloomy, don’t be disheartened.
Just take on board to never plant(anger*) in your gar-
den(brain).

*In ancient times offering petunia was perceived as a token of anger.

38
 Twenty

Hunting Humanity

O
n a solitary day, of 25th May,
I read the newspaper which filled me up with
dismay.
People were still fighting in racial affairs,
And the devils were hiding in their lairs.

In the fresh hours of the morning in Minneapolis,

A black man died in this metropolis.
His name was George Floyd,
Four white men made his life null and void.

He died crying for help from his mother,

Humanity is so cruel, that the four men didn’t even
bother.
Every second, “I can’t breathe” he said,
None of the four men came to his aid.
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 Quill and Ink

20$ of counterfeited money,

Blimey! This caused a hell lot of baloney.
The white man sat with his diabolic knees on George’s
neck, creating a mess,
For full 8 minutes 46 seconds, to whom was the white
man showing his prowess.

George was trying to explain and restrain,

But in the end, he was murdered by a white man named
Marc Chauvin.
The black man’s life had an irrational ending,
But this is our time to create a worthful beginning.

The black bouncer can’t raise his voice,

But we are free to make our choice.
For everyone is the same colour when it is dark,
So, why create a racial remark?

Hope the people understand my message,

And wish for the justice of Floyd who was full of courage.
As the whole world is a family; The biggest religion is
humanity itself,
So, just remember to keep your voices loud and high and
lead the way which is right because the brain and heart
and not kept in a bookshelf.

I have no interests in any worldly fights or dispute,

I have no grudge against anyone’s attributes.
All I want to say is I condemn brutality,
And want to remove the hunting scars of humanity.

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Hunting Humanity

41
 Twenty-One

On and On this wind goes

O
n and on this wind goes,
Never stopping once,
On and on this wind blows,
Never coming to a halt.

Crosses the mountain, crosses the torrents of sea,

Puts off some savage fire, but also allows this hopeless hoard
to breathe,
Sometimes it casts itself as a shadow to the summer’s sun,
And sometimes like Poseidon’s trident in the snowy winters.

On and on this wind blows,

Pouring rain and rattling peal of thunders,
Banishing the cowards from their wrath in the forests,
But shooting like a star to the hopeful.
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 On and On this wind goes

Throwing wind, air, and calmness like a rich man,

But never asks for a repay once,
And never yields to help,
But time strengthens it, and it fights like a lion.

On and on this wind goes, once and for all, to leave

Its friends, to depart for the false cave of destiny,
But for the rest of its life, it seeks and finds its friends like an
aim or goal,
Because this wind is not cruel, it is the spirit of a human soul.

43
 Twenty-Two

Divine Daughters

Like the light of the burning sun,

Or the intrigued gleam of the gem,
Vivid and vibrant are daughters, second to none.
Every hope of the new future lies with them.
Years to come, years to pass,
On the shore of a dark sea or in the hands of
Ulysses, daughters are the star that
Radiates even in the darkest nights
Dainty and dandy persona that leads their way,
Adaptable to every substance and nothing can steal their
mind.
Unique in every aspect and always tries to cast the world a
different array,4
Girl is one powerful word that displays virtues of all kind.
Historical legends have also been daughters,
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 Divine Daughters

Triumphant and successful in every field.

Ebullient always and hardworking as a water.
Rightfully said, daughters are the world’s shield

45
 Twenty-Three

Daunting Dad

D
ad this poem is all about you
Your sacrifices, love, affection,
And your holy asset can’t be counted in hand
You are the toughest person, like a grain of sand
You are the bravest person I ever knew
Dad this poem is all about you
You are an icon in front of my eye
You have a heart as big as a sky
Dad, nobody can achieve the greatness that you drew
Dad this poem is all about you
Thanks for being an umbrella that saves me from the
sun
Thanks for teaching important lessons of
life, and don’t be an adversary for anyone
Thank you dad for teaching me to be generous and true
46
 Daunting Dad

Dad this poem is all about you

Life is full of hardship and I tried to compel your hopes
But, thank you dad for showing me that after falling 100
times a person gets up at its 101st and that every situation
has a solution and scope
Thank you dad for teaching me everything new
Dad, this poem is all about you
Catering your kin is for you a jewel
It is for you a natural fuel
Thank you papa for being as serene as dew
Dad, this poem is all about you.
Thanks for having such high standards and morals.
And for being so much hardworking, you deserve a
wreath of laurel
Thank you dad for being a needle and please keep on
mending the bad things in me with your power and sew
Dad this poem is all about you
Your merits of excellence in life and your contribution
would take a trilogy to showcase your pathway.
Wonder, if I can say just to my icon and the greatest
person,
A MERRY FATHERS DAY
Because you are undoubtedly the most precious jewel
without argue.
And Dad this poem is all about you.

47
 Twenty-Four

Independent India: The Call of the

Golden Bird

I
ndia the land of mystics, wonder and legendary leaders of
peaceful prowess,
The manoeuvres and endeavours of these leaders speak
for them in the pitch of loudness.
Their perpetual struggle for liberation, their yammers of pain,
For them, we are flying like a bird in, ‘Free India’ without any
disparity and disdain.

Thanks to the martyrs and the determined legends who carved

the shape of a new country,
We are not bound with Viceroys, Queen’s, and her royal
gentry.
The protagonists of this story of Indian independence will
take at least one human evolution,
But still to name a few, Mahatma, Nehru, Bhagat Singh and
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 Independent India: The Call of the Golden Bird

countless others were part of this revolution

But this story changed a bit in the coming years,

We were again invaded and plundered by our fears.
But this time the West didn’t have the valour to siphon us,
This time we are the marauder and the cause of the fuss.

Though upcoming India is a superpower in every aspect,

From Rafaels to nuclear power putting enemy’s totally dev-
asted and wrecked.
But the pandemic that is spreading like a spark in combustion,
The flaw of judgement and disloyalty is corruption.

The darkness echoes with the cries of Nirbhaya,

Attacks of Pulwama and Hotel Taj, what all is happening in
the land of Rama.
The literacy dropping every year,
And the street filled with fake and deluding seers.

And even the pregnant elephant couldn’t escape.

What was the fault in her stars, do people are driving ape?
And the pollution level rising like tides,
Let’s do something or humanity will die.

But today on this 74th anniversary of the leisured independence,

Let’s be the change we want to see and educate our way and
be self-dependence.
Let this story take a new plot and mend its loose string,
Let the golden bird rise in glory again and chirp and sing

49
 Twenty-Five

Her Majesty: The Timeless Time

Y
ou can now hear her in a muffled voice,
But she moves swiftly now.
Earlier even the lords were tensed of her trills,
She now assails with a sceptre, unknown to the fools.

You can hear her groaning for she cares for you,
While some may hear and heed no attention to this giver,
While others groan and cry and falter at their sinuous trail
While some bow and accept and listen to this crying gipsy.

You see her in Spring wreathed with flowers known to our

sires,
You see her in the Autumn with a girth of withered leaves.
Yet you see her in the Summer with a bright apricot jewel,
And yet in the Winter with a white crown,

50
 Her Majesty: The Timeless Time

No man can touch her feat, she is the haggard daughter of the
Most Powerful,
Alas! she is a maiden who just walks with her admirers,
But a great dwimmer she is, she has powers unknown to
mankind,
She is older than the sun in the sky.

If you touch her, she paces ten strides forward,

If you leave she will fly off like a solitary kite,
If you hate her she will show you her torrent and tempest,
If you break her, you will never be able to see stars again

Her job is very facile, she wants to meet her husband who can
match her,
But everyone she meets now is lazy and futile,
But if you run the extraordinary sinuous trail,
You will taste the sweetest fruit of your life.

Many young lords tried to get her, and failed,

Kinds, Lords, Gods, no one could catch this lady.
She didn’t care about the helms, lands, chariots,
She loved hardworking lads and lasses.

Many deem her as a witch of another star,

Many seek advice to this queen,
Her name is as big as her age,
For she is the bewitching Time

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 Twenty-Six

Time Tyranny

T
ick Tock, Tick Tock,
Beware your life is a clock,

Time always has a scope,

Never be disheartened and lose your hope.
Time catches you with a rope,
When your life is sliding in a slope.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock,

Time follows you like a hawk.

Time teaches you the state of consciousness,

It foretells your activities that cause ominousness.
It forges you from carelessness to awareness,
It helps you grasp opportunity and acuteness.

52
 Time Tyranny

Tick Tock, Tick Tock,

Time is stiff as a rock.

Time is old,
Time is gold
Time is bold,
Time always comes untold.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock,

Remember time is in your mind’s hammock.

Time teaches you to be happy when you fail,

Never make your brain weak and frail.
Because every failure has a tale,
And success is always behind failure, following suite its
trail.
Tick Tock, Tick Tock,
Time is in your dock.

Time is very particular and scholastic,

Its appearance is very drastic.
Its company is very fantastic,
Time is always very majestic.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock,

Time never lets your ideas be locked.

If you respect the time it will bestow gifts on you like

confetti,
Your mind will resolve things that are petty.
Your imagination will be abstract like graffiti,
53
 Quill and Ink

Your knowledge would be wild and steady.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock,

Time is running, please endure and stop

Time teaches us equality,

It shows us reality.
It is not biased with nationality,
It is your only companion with a sense of morality.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock,

Time is as beautiful as a peacock.

Time brings you back from insanity to sanity

Shapes you into a humble creature for humanity
Emphasizes life with more dignity
Characterizes you to help the poverty for eternity.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock,

Time is your brain’s stalk.

In the race of life if you have grasp time you have already
won,
A difficult situation may arise but never run.
Because time and tide wait for none,
And your time has just begun.
Knock knock !!

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 Twenty-Seven

Miss Understanding

L
onger than thrice unwounded tresses,
Larger than sweet Elysian fortresses,
Older than Methuselah’s preaching.
Is our story of Miss Understanding.

A young maiden jolly, fastidious, and vain,

Was the nephew of Lord Brain,
Engendered as the daughter of Clergy Wisdom,
By Jonah! The whole kingdom was in harmony and rhythm.

Queen of sarcasm, infallibly she was,

But a small little incident changed that all,
Sarcasm can’t welcome sarcasm,
A farrago made her drown in the dark chasm,

55
 Quill and Ink

Many suitors came to take her hand,

But she refused it saying, “Eat sand”,
She wished to get rid of any suitors,
But Fate had another visitor.

In a face as beautiful as Narcissus,

And chest so proud and strong as Hercules,
Came riding on a chariot Spirit bewitched,
Who tried to woo her or make her stars eclipsed.

She said no to him too,

With blowing raspberries and stew.
And before leaving the palace to asperse,
He enchanted the palace and accursed.

Rumours slay more than in battle,

And also rumours slander and hassle,
And so also was with our maiden Miss- Understanding,
She became malice, cruel and notwithstanding.

She ventured on her own with her duenna Miss- Conception,

The Kingdom of Vein was her first inception
They tamed the bloody red river with ease.
She wanted to be the ethereal queen.

She met people and put them under her spell,

Now there were wars and blowing up of trumpets,
Now Friends turned against each other,
And a baby was deceived by his own mother,

Such was her persuasion that no one could escape it,

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 Miss Understanding

For unity was the strength that was always sifted.

And knowing all this Miss- Understanding flew with malice,
With the wings which were given to her by Daedalus.

But the kingdom already spouted a lot of blood,

And now the officials began to work,
Brain was the leader to lead the way,
To kill Miss understanding was their allay.

They found her after 6 months of the quest,

They saw her driving off black bile with zest,
She gave the company a smirk and a glance.
Wisdom saw her and killed her with his own lance.

And for ages, this story was told,

From people of far and old,
Some even say killing one’s own daughter is beyond under-
standing!
But I claim she was gashed and slashed to become misunder-
standing.

57