Dogs of war...

A spontaneous harmony of thoughts within thoughts,

The clash of times in a different era,

Culmination of the inversion of bliss,

No way to ease the surging tempest…

A remembrance in all its dying light,
Sought a memory before it became the past,
Colored by our minds greatest illusions,
Entered a prism, and then was deviated by misinterpretations...

Affection was a way of luring,
An explorer  in the maze of cruelty,
Cruelty bred by the deception of love,
By the hunger for flesh and the purity of blood..

The dogs which bore madness,
Once guarded the streets from demons,
Hovered in all its strength,
Killed by a moments weakness...

 

The last laugh...

The martyrs have weaken their stance, 

Subconsciously intimidated by the days of only wounds ahead,

Only moments to go until the march to glory,

The provinces of gold had intoxicated  them to the point of the sleep of reclusion...

The breeds of higher order have now not a reason to opine,

They begin their day with the solace of futility,

Commence to a voice of bigotry,

Until a different kind of transition...

For letters written in blood,

Have been defeated by the words inscribed in bonds,

Seldom acquainted with the world of gossip,

Placidly waiting in the numerous post offices of decay...

The time had begun for the fancy air of romance,

I will gift you a kiss if you please,

Embodied with the spirit of youth and glamour,

Made to suit carnal whims and mundane woes...

I shall wait for the end of your crude fantasy,

Which shall be made to sleep upon my arrival,

Awakened when I am away,

Which shall continue to torment you as you twitch and turn in your grave,

But not for too long...

Let me feed you copper candy,

So very fierce and inedible,

Let me occupy your senses with the scent of my love,

Superficial enough to slip away...

No impact has been as great,

As great as my non- existent significant other,

Who took me back to the rustic air of childhood,

As I grew many steps away from naivety...

Very few roots of passion have traced back,

The rest have faded away with the night,

Trampled on with time,

Burdened by mortality,

Just to suit the flow to the last laugh...

Good= (good*bad)= good2 + bad

Sorry for that unattractive title, have just come from Maths class and it's all I can think about.
Okay, now I am not so good at poetry so this is the first few poems I've written on my blog.
It's actually about my maid, she has been a helper in our house and deserves this. So, here goes...

She will come by our house at seven,
it seems she has dropped from heaven.
Her main concern now ain't money,
but she's wants us to be funny.

That smile on her face,
doesn't depict the miles she's walked to come to our place.
She is a form of god who lives in poverty,
but it seems like she has no lethargy.

As I stare at her face,
which apart from ever thing still has some grace,
She will go to the kitchen and start scrubbing the nickel utensils,
then from nickel she will scrub the other types and after that see if the fruits are ripe.

Yes, she lacks education,
which makes her not have a good occupation.
But, the greatness I see in her ain't the greatness I see in me.

Her childhood was deprived of fun,
then she had three sons.
Now she is is about fifty-three
with grandchildren also equalling up to three.

If you'll she her you'll she a women a women
with cracked and swollen heals wearing a faded sari.
She is also short and stout and has not much to flaunt about,
but her goodness is up and about.
The greatness you see in her just ain't the greatness in me.


( Picture taken from the net, does not belong to me.)