Monday, October 30, 2006

Choices


We all live a small life
Much decisions on our shoulders
Some a burden while some for fun
But not friendship
No, not at all
Come let me take you into a fantasy
A dream like one you’ve never seen
Just close your eyes and listen to me

Can you hear the Lark?
Can you hear the Cuckoo?
Can your hear the Nightingale sing
A melancholy song
Of a story not so long
For the sands of time to bring

Listen carefully my dear
For there is a lesson to be learnt
Don’t judge so soon
You may be wrong
And hurt yourself in return

It was a bright bright day
Silence
Not a sound to be heard
No noise made
All were present
Man, beast and bird
No one moved
They simply stood and watched

Then came a far, far off cry
Of pain of hurt
And a sob and a sigh
For all watched a tortured soul
Tormented hurt and die.

There he was on his knees
Begging, pleading
For those who he took as his friends
Used him, hurt him
Then let their friendship come to an end

“Why?” he asked, “Why?” he cried.
“How had the bond been broken
Hadn’t it been made by chains of love so strong?
Or was it of mere selfishness
A weak thread, a token”


“A proof, a mark, deep inside
To scorn me of my foolish pride
So sharp the tongue
That hurt my soul
I cannot run I cannot hide”

No more could he stand the pain
A laugh, a cry, a blend of both.
But none could work
None to ease the pain
None to ease the hurt.

Blinded by the tears
Of shame, of fury
He then struck a blow
A fist came down on him later
And then there were more

Blow by blow came down upon him
Those very hands
Those very hands
One’s which had calmed the hurt he got
Were opening those wounds
With added salt.

Thus he fainted
Bloodless, lifeless
Calm and still
Writhing insides now empty, now void
Still not a soul moved
Still not a soul moved

“Why is it dark?
Has the night set in?
Or am I dead,
And gone to heaven
Maybe hell for such a sin.”

“Nay my friend,
You still reside on earth
You have your soul
Your body is healing.
But, forgive me my friend
To hurt you and torment your mind
For I have to tell you
That your vision has gone friend
That you are blind.”

A tear falls and then another
For yet the burden was augmented
The voice was known
Too known to ignore
For to ignore was what he wanted

The voice was familiar
The tone was not
Yet how could it be so?
His friends had turned evil
His friends had turned bad
And the voice….

The voice was of a foe

5 comments:

Tushaar Mangal said...

Another Poem,another message...
This author shuld be a lecturer
For someone like me avoided by friends seen a lot in life ...
i learnt only one lesson
that i still have to wait for a foe
.......Gud work aashi your poems touching my heart...excellent job done.....pity that yu dont write much....what a injustice on us

akshat said...

use ur heart baby while writing not ur mind............

P U Krishnan said...

I read three of your poems today. I enjoyed reading each of those, especially "An Unforsaken Passion".

Aashi said...

thank u...am glad you liked these poems...each of my poems r very close to my heart

Chetana said...

a very good thought expression put on paper..........only an emotional being can write such a poem .

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