The Cycle

The cycle  

 

The deafening shriek from the parched earth
Went piercing the heavens
A desperate call for help cometh
For liberation from the sweltering ovens.

The clouds answered in a thunderous roar
Marching across the oceans and hills,
Melted on the plight of the earth so dear.
Drenched in totality.....the earth smiled in bliss.

 

Desires satisfied, greenery returned

Life never had it so good, it seemed

Till (like all good things end) rain ceased

And the clamour returned.

 

Bound in the cycle of unending desire

That kindles destructive fire

The shriek of earth this time round

‘Oh, when will the liberation be found’?

 

 
RS,

23^rd Oct 2008

The blot

The blot

 

 

The ugly little thing on the canvas well kept

The black spot ailing the soothing moon.

Staring back at me as I examine in contempt

I challenge ‘will get rid of you soon’.

 

 How the hell did it get on to my canvas?

When the blood rushed at a furious pace

Trembling hands groping in unknown space

Where soul lost in the body race.

 

With determination I set out to erase

The ugly blot without a trace

With duster, rubber, water, scrubber, even poisonous mace

Frenzied work with what my hands could place.

 

Triumphant, Job well done I thought

Drained of energy.. sleep I sought

Woke I did, and to my utter distraught

The blot is back… all I did was a pathetic naught.

 

 RS

23^rd Oct 2008