Sonnet of Homecoming

"Home again..." said the bard, or was it Home ?
Beyond those hills, streams, seas and deserts dry
Distant lands of peace and of maidens shy
Of wars, songs and dreams, how long must he roam
Seeking times gone, to find his long lost Home ?
Look, yonder looms his Home, where those clouds weep
Just on the horizon, where those winds sweep
So near yet so far, other end of sky's dome

Sore is his heart and blistered are his feet
Feeble his wishes are, his Homecoming uncertain
In a tavern with wenchs warm he makes his last sojourn
Singing glories of things unknown and Homecoming sweet

There he walks barefoot smeared with sins and lust
And his sweet little lies of rains on paths of dust

Comments

The Pantomimist

He never said a word where None would suffice. And really Words were luxuries, wrongfully Labeled as necessities Freedom who, freedom where Freedom when, he couldn't go Home, which home was it really !! He didn't say, he smiled sad This is your place, this is where You belong, they always said He never used words, he never Raised his voice, he only smiled sad Borders and limits and words Languages, cultures, Nations Religions, loyalties and societies Freedom from whom ? Freedom when ? The home was long lost among Those borders drawn and the earth Divided, for whom ?? His earth, his love His birthright. He never said a word. Kisses were perversely preferable than wars He made love to the earth in a very profane way Across the borders of the living and the dead Though he got murdered, did the pantomimist die !!!

SOLITAIRE-1

The lone poet walks Along that dusty avenue Lined with leafless trees And cold stones of a lonesome hue. Towards his deserted home He walks on and on On cold winter dusks- The hours of a weak dying sun. O' passers by! Stop And behold his lonesome gait, Maybe the lone remnants of His cruel raging fate. With the death of that weak Sun His lonesome day ends. Beneath those soils, warm, A peaceful night he spends. Nights pass o'er his grave A handful of solace they bring, Unkempt mementos; dark And lost remains of a shrewd spring...

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