Global
Poetry
Movement

Personal Transformation

Spark

Spark

I have walked a lonely road, I say,
It was dark and joy free.
I’ve never been happy, hoping or gay,
Because I never could see.

I was blind. Oh yes, I was blind I say,
Withering away in the dark.
I never realized my blessings till that day,
When there was a sudden spark.

In my life, I have seen things,
Which many fear to witness.
Sometimes I thought myself Lord of the World,
Without any guilt or meekness.

And yet I fell from those stairs,
That lead up to the throne of fame.
But still I did not beg pardon,
As I could not have borne the shame.

And as my sorrow clasped me tight,
Though I struggled with all my might,
I could not but feel depressed,
And stumbled on, along my fate.

It was that time, when he came,
But not as a bright ball of flame,
And yet the spark he caused, left its mark,
Buried deep upon my chest.

I was walking aimlessly,
Hopelessly and heartlessly.
When I saw him sitting there,
Holding a child, crying helplessly.

I crouched down beside him,
And asked what the matter was,
His answer occurred to me,
As quite; a terrible loss.

He said he was of nowhere,
He had nowhere to go,
He showed me the child; his only brother,
Would be dead by tomorrow.

I tried to offer him assistance,
And wash away his tears,
But he begged me to stop doing so,
That he could cry away his cares.

He cried on so grievously,
That I was quite astonished to see,
Him smiling through his tears,
And looking towards me.

“My dear friend” he said,
“You think me sad like you,
But I will carve my way out,
And pass happily through.”

“I have lost much; and death will come,
But I fear it not,
For it will take me to a place,
Where I will find; the ones I have lost.”

“You do not see your gifts,
So you weep and mourn.
If you see what blessings you have,
You will; find the road easy to wander upon.”

With these words; he got up,
And clutched the child tight in his arms.
And walked on wherever the road led,
Whether to the river side, or to the sun lit farms.

From that day, I’ve learnt my lesson,
And even now, I walk the road,
But no longer can I call it,
What I had called it so long before.

By :
RAIMA GHOSH

RAIMA GHOSH | India

The Power of Voice

A Flower’s Tale

A Flower’s Tale

Wasted Nights,
Wasted Days,
Oh my time!
Wasted away.

Sitting still,
Atop a hill.
Sitting quiet,
In a dress so white.

Beads of water upon my head,
Beads of water trickling down my face.
Glistening as it touches my foot,
Then lies glistening; on grass, on wood.

Then a cruel hand picks me off,
Then carries me in clasped hands, so gruff!
All while I’m screaming of pain,
Of hurt and grief; no longer sane.

Then put me in a shallow vase,
Filled with water, made of glass.
My crumbling carcass writhes in pain,
All my cries are but in vain.
I have nothing more to gain,
All my hopes have now been slain.

Slain before I could grow old,
Slain before I could be bold,
Slain before I could live life,
Slain before I went through strife.

Now while I wait; awaiting death,
Waiting for the sun to set,
To cast a shadow on my collapsed form;
Born in solitude; in solitude gone.

I think of all my wasted time,
Wasted Days and Wasted Nights.
I really did want to live life,
Yet I’ll be gone with no great fights.

By RAIMA GHOSH

RAIMA GHOSH | India

The Voice for Others

Day&Night

When I feel the need to be alone,
Turn off the lights,
Turn off the phone...
No outside noise will penetrate,
I'll sit here and I'll meditate,
Alone in the dark is quite appealing,
Staring at a moonlit ceiling..
Confusing thoughts and unsure feelings,
Unknown desires begin revealing...
The thoughts they enter one by one,
Soon they are a jumbled mess,
It's been days since I've felt the sun,
So surely I digress,
Into a world of day and night,
As I begin to miss the light,
I open up my eyes and heart
I feel refreshed as I re-start...,

Tommy L💜 | Canada