Peril

The rider followed her unceasingly,
As horse’s hoofs trampled everything in its way
Knowing not whose help to seek,
She felt breathless, feeble and weak
She ran as fast as she could,
Through the sinister woods

The gem she concealed
Among her clothes and fled
As fast as her feet could carry,
Knowing not where she should tarry

The veiled riders had ruined everything…
She couldn’t hear the birds sing,
Or the leaves flutter in the breeze,
She hurried, not quite at ease,
Worried as the hoofs were drawing near,
For her own life, she did not fear

She held the gem, now stained with blood,
As close as she could,
It was a relic of her tribe’s past,
The only one that did last

She did not know who to revere,
To save her from the agony, severe
The wily rider closed on her
She felt that her end was drawing near,
In the forest she spotted a clearing,
And a voice screaming her name was nearing

The voice seemed familiar,
She ran towards it, with a mind unclear
She knew the woods well,
And remembered playing hide and seek, till twilight fell.

The voice seemed to be her guide
And following it, she knew just where to hide.
She went through the slender path, to the cave
Her favourite hiding place, which did save
Her once again, and she sat there, thankful
Awaiting the sun to spread its rays, bountiful

Not for reproduction.

ALL IMAGES HAVE BEEN PICKED OUT FROM THE INTERNET.

Untitled.

The sun set on another evening of May,
They played with their toys all day,
They couldn’t have known, they didn’t,
Their grandmother was no more, and they had no hint

One was seven, and the other five
Their mother thought, they were too naïve,
To comprehend this invariable cycle of life,
A man’s destiny, which God, Himself writes

The father thought, they ought to know
The curiosity in their young minds would only grow
The kids cherished her presence, they loved her dearly
She would remain etched in their memory…

The five-year-old tugged her mother’s white sari
And asked, “Where is she, where is dadi?”
The other sat on his father’s lap and looked up at his face
He wondered why his father’s eyes never met his gaze…

The two, old, sullen eyes met each other
How would they tell them about the beloved grandmother?
They stood there still, tongue tied,
How were they to tell them that she had died?

This one is still untitled, I just can’t name it.  Suggestions are welcome.

Not for reproduction.