Redemption V
Her feet divided and multiplied into infinite tentacles,
That slithered and writhed
Grew longer and longer,
Until they found their grip
As they entrenched the rich, brown earth.
Her hands splintered into copious branches.
Category Archive: Poetry
Ballad, poem translation, poems on human experience and any other inspiration.
Redemption IV
Each time the wind brought,
The languished cry of an abandoned child
She broke off a tormented sliver from her brittle heart,
Offered it to the gods and prayed the child be rescued.
The gods in their heavens, heard her woeful pleas,
Redemption III
The spin-top tree sighed and fell silent.
He delved into his oceanic mind
After a day and night of deep deliberation,
He finally spoke
In a voice, soothing as caress,
‘My dear queen,’ he said softly,
‘As sad as your story is,
As genuine the need for answers
It’s hard to know what happened eons ago,
For it has been that long since you arrived in our tiny world.
Redemption II
Affected by his warmth,
She opened her heart
Laid her burdens at his paternal feet
She spoke of her brutal callousness,
Of a mother’s selfish heart,
Of her arduous journey
Of the thousand deaths her flesh endured
About her heart that became porous and brittle,
As she returned to the folds of humanity.
Redemption I
The spin-top tree –
The wisest of trees
That bore perfectly spherical flowers
That was also its fruit.
As timeless as the hills that bore him
He stood on his roots,
On the banks of the whispering brook
Like a solitary hermit on his lonely leg –
Aggrievance IV
She flew away from all that she knew;
She ran far and wide
Frantically querying about a young maiden
With the most melancholy of face,
The one who could not smile, nor utter a single word.
When humans would not help,
She implored the Sun, pleaded with the Wind
Besought the elements,
That made up the universe –
Aggrievance III
In the years that passed,
The young girl’s smile disappeared
Then her words vanished,
Till she became barely perceptible,
Until one day she was to be found nowhere.
At first she shrugged it away.
‘Where could she have gone?’ she muttered.
‘Who would take in that useless, ingrate?’
She raised a haughty eyebrow,
Aggrievance II
There was something about her little niece,
That irked her from the start.
Was it her ever smiling face, or the lack of guile?
Was it the cheerful spirit or zest for life?
Was it a mother’s weak, selfish heart –
that could not stand up to her narcissistic daughter’s
wanton need for incessant attention?
Or was it because she constantly craved her daughter’s approval
that she found it necessary to ingratiate with the one she engendered.
No matter the reasons;
Aggrievance I
From time to time, her porous heart
Pulled out sheaves of memory,
That twisted her being like shards of glass
Some of them loathsome in its shame
Some of them woeful,
In its coldness and apathy.
The ages that have passed since,
Did not dissolve the wounds of her past
The memories of her sins still fresh in its agony,
Travail III
The creatures of the hills took pity on her,
Nursed her fragile being back to health
Floral vines covered her naked skeleton
Thus, she bloomed in spring,
Turned green in summer, bare-brown in winter
The moon took pity on her –
Lent its milky white for her oblong face,
The solitary rose bush lent her the crimson lips
She refused to gaze upon the world
Covered her face in a shroud of grey cloud,
That stopped just above her vermilion,
Went up over her head,
Floated all the way to the ground.
She roamed the tiny world,
