Wednesday, September 30, 2009


The clouds,they are the same
as I left them in my country.
They are my clouds.
and so the ocean’s liquid melody.

Seeking refuge we have arrived
homeland denied
If only we have the power
to pull out the threads and start over.

My motherland’s bosom tastes of blood
may the peace rest in deathbed.
A cancer they say,of the rascist mind
the panacea only destiny shall find.

Farms there harvest lives
Plants bloom bombs
Autumns shed heads
Cradles rock towards tombs.

fires and sirens
have long replaced the nightingales
Rising black smoke
have shrouded our holy temples.

O Sun,your attempts are but futility
to cast golden beams of hope
upon rising on our dead city.

O Wind,if you could please give a hand
Take away the souls from half-dead bodies
as you sweep past our land.

O Seas,keep sending waves to our shore
wipe our peoples’ tears
and the blood and the gore.

Isn’t it the same air we breathe?
and the same barren earth beneath?
would a language dare throw us apart
when we learn to speak from the heart?

Seeking refuge we have arrived
homeland denied
If only we have the power
to pull out the threads and start over.

The shirts are wearing our bodies
candles weep wax tears with us
makes no difference to no one
If we dont return.
Is this a promise of a new home
and probably some hope?

It is raining
the clouds,they are crying!
After all,my clouds they are
just the same everywhere.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

It's my moon...

As I stood propped against the parapet wall of my terrace,I could feel the gentle breeze caress my face.The sun had just just accepted defeat and dissappeared into the western skies.I stared at the enveloping darkness of the sky as the night was slowly veiling in and I could feel my thoughts wheeling back to those times when my head could barely reach the parapet rim.

All those stars were little diamonds studded across the sky." One day I'm going to pluck them all and hide them under my pillows", I'd promised myself then.Imagine the shock that would've come upon me when my fifth grade book informed that stars are colossal masses of fire,times bigger than our sun and not the small pretty diamonds as they seem to be.I'd been enlightened that never will I be able to pluck stars.I was dissappointed.

Then I was in for the next shock- The-One-Moon-For-Everyone theory.How could that possibly be true?Everyday after twilight games all of us take our own moons and run across the grounds,through the streets with that heavenly balloon tagging along with us.Then I'd carefully secure my moon behind the bars of my window beside the bed.But the science 'miss' seemed pretty sure about it.

The skies were not just big blue umbrellas.The beast that fed on the moon got extinct.Rains no longer poured from showers entrenched in the skies.My sun did not sleep under the depths of the bellowing sea.

Time had flewn me from a world of fascination to one equipped with answers and geared with facts.As the truth was coroneted,the charisma was exiled.Science had destroyed the splendor.We become a victim of a timeless journey and somewhere along the way we lose our juvenile innocence.

Thoughts swirled back to me and I missed something that had seemed so trivial before.I looked up at the empty beauty of the night.The moon had by then undraped its nimbus stricken profile.I tried to locate that old woman on the moon but only void craters jeered back at me.