contains some of my present and past poetry.
The long road gleaming silver
The moonlit night ever to remember.
Lost in dreams a sweet young girl
Married just to a brave youngster,
hailing from a warrior clan
of the famous realm of Rajasthan.
Four men carried her in
a pearly pale pink palanquin.
Many more rode on either wing
Their backs straight, their minds set
to reach a distant yet dear destination,
before the sun sank into the western horizon.
But life is never what it seems
Mystery in unexpected quarters lurks
Testing and teasing, it brooks
no comfort, nor solace it proffers.
Mystified sat the lovely vision
that in reality, has a brave version.
As the bright night faded
And the sands around furrowed,
in the small hours were heard
the hooves, as the horses galloped.
A black stallion with a blackguard,
on the sojourners of the silent road swooped.
The girl was seized, her spirit swayed
between dream and danger, her mind dulled.
Close she was to the love of her life.
Bent on becoming to an ideal man, an ideal wife.
What could a frail damsel, in the heart
of a desert, do with her sire’s men driven apart?
Her dear husband knew not of her fate,
on the ups and downs as she rode,
as a man and woman would in love and hate.
They knew not the fact, they trod
life is ruled by fear and doubt,
not always by plans well laid.
War on desert unlike the one on land,
is muffled, more dangerous and mad.
But how would he know the plight,
his tender bride was plunged into?
Except for a restless stirring in his heart
at her arrival, a delay inordinate.
So saddled he, on a fine stallion white,
galloped across the dark desert,
With the force of wind,
And the storm of sand,
In the wake of the hooves relentless,
Others on other horses- warriors matchless.
In search of a delicate treasure
That by a quirk of fate mightn’t appear
Or she may, if dame luck decided
To change men in agony, into better fated.
Like the sands of the desert, that never ceased
Rolling and sifting, changing view and verisimilitude.
The night passed for some in dread,
For the strong in hope, a thin thread.
With dawn, the news was heard,
An unnamed ransom on her head,
To be exchanged on an unmarked spot.
The desert has landmarks one knows not.
Like the elements, it is at no one’s command,
Rather plays havoc, as with the warrior grand.
Brooded he for long, to trace the desert tracks.
But there's no clue on the dancing sands.
He never lost heart or hope or faith,
A man of truthful strength.
A clump of bush and an oasis small
Drew the searching group to rest,
Replenish their depleting spirit.
Drank and ate they their wherewithal.
The men dozing noticed the hovering
Crows, a spot in the distance, circling.
A few sauntered to the sandy cove.
There they descried humans move
About within the sheltered shade.
Nearing the place the guards watched,
The silent meal cooked and eaten.
Then all’s calm-no trace of anyone.
They then their next move planned,
To carry out before the hour of dawn,
When sleep overtakes body and mind.
Fell thus into a trap unforeseen,
The rogues and the brother, much loved,
By the gang’s captain.
An apprentice curious to learn, the wicked craft
Of thieving and capturing for a price, the innocent.
Tables thus turned against, the king pin thief,
Agreed to exchange with the warrior chief.
His lady love left thus,at her husband’s door wilting,
Like a rain drenched bud, with joy trembling,
At a reunion she scarce imagined,
Rested within the circling arms of her beloved.
He paid no heed to the vicious whispers
Of scandalous men and women – Satan’s peers.
He took her back to his mountain home.
Pledged he again to her, his love, a lion of a man.