Hope and Dream are two sisters:
Bickering and quarrelling all the time.
Neither believes the other is better.
Neither trusts the other to the machinations
Of time. Self-dependent and codependent:
Such an odd duo they are at times!
They are their worst accusers by nature,
Yet they are partners in crimes.
Hope often puffs up the dream,
While Dream takes Hope seriously.
Both sisters then fall out suddenly
In the aftermath of a confrontation
With reality. But when Dream is broken
Hope picks up the pieces
Joins them up with broken shards
Of a resurrected self.
Dec 17, 2020
Dec 17, 2020 at 6:58 AM UTC
The Banyan tree is dying, the little boy exclaimed
Who would believe him though?
It was not just a tree but a legacy,
A witness of generations.
The Banyan tree is dying, the farmer complained
Many a hot afternoon
He had sought its shade
What an inconvenience.
The Banyan tree is dying, the priests shouted
The holy site had led to
Many days of profit
And few days of satisfaction
The Banyan tree is dying, no one did anything
Time withered its branches
Termites ate away the roots
And the trunk fell like a giant.
The Banyan tree is falling, the workers cried.
Work to be done
Land to be cleared
Nobody cares.
Dec 3, 2020
Dec 3, 2020 at 3:06 PM UTC
The walls have managed to keep me well-aloof and apart
It was March just the other day
My prison cocoons me in the cool autumn wind
Not sure of what danger is out there
War, virus, riots and ****
It’s a crazy world, I am safe.
I question my safety now and then.
My sanity I question more often.
I twirled in front of my dresser
Posing for acquaintances
Smiling through the boredom
Of never-ending video conferences.
The strain is showing through
On threadbare patience
Straining at the slightest provocation.
The glaring screen tempts me
Into one last indiscretion
Of unreasonable outrage.
Elections, propaganda and
Undeserved praise
Who is worthy? You say.
Valid question.
The stench of my stale room
Reeks of carbon dioxide
The air around me
Threatening death
Inside outside
Masks always existed
Now they only cover more
Not just your intentions
And it is fine; Nightmares
Are better hidden
My prison cell comforts me
And I get accustomed
To the confinement
Of my own house
Months have passed
Days are passing
Minutes seem longer now
Nov 30, 2020
Nov 30, 2020 at 1:53 AM UTC
A short walk
Awkward stops
I look through
No window shopping
Just plain criticism.
Fire spitting hate
A long path
Ends abruptly
Because it's unwanted
Past can be
Both excavated
Or buried
Like seeds
Giving rise to
New leaves.
(C) Anavah 2019
Jul 25, 2019
Jul 25, 2019 at 10:25 AM UTC
He held my gaze that little Urchin
In the middle of the crowded road
He held my gaze with his impish smile
For as long as his attention would hold
A playful smile was on his lips
Though his clothes lay in tatters
The little Urchin was full of life
Rich in what it matters
He flitted towards the end of the street
Where the slums clustered in thickets
I heard the sound of something crashing
And noticed fallen wickets
Many an imps frolicked by
In the guise of deprivation
Yet all that I could see
Survival beyond starvation
But then he flitted again in hurry
As the noon hour chimed
He went to the edge of the road
And over a wall he climbed
Reaching for left overs
He battled with stray dogs
His friends joined in battle cries
Pelted them with rocks
He held my gaze with the life
That twinkled in his eyes
But before I could say goodbye
I knew his eyes had lied
©Anavah 2019
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 6:54 AM UTC
My future is in my past.
I know it doesn't make sense but it actually does.
All my hopes of who I want to be
Have been buried with dead ancient dreams.
Corpses of ambitions lie six foot under
With tombstones of pity and mourning.
My future is in my past and I am free
To chalk up everything to destiny
My fate is written in torn pages of time
My hope is no longer mine
Yet my existence is my own epiphany
(c) Anavah 2019
Jan 16, 2019
Jan 16, 2019 at 11:28 AM UTC
Is it bad to ignore the slight on the part of others?
When judgement calls you to judge
Is it bad to leave things at the hands of justice?
Is it bad to subdue passions for the sake of patience?
Is it bad to want to see good?
Is it bad to reign in the tongue when curses fly?
When blood boils and logic leaves the door
Is it bad to hope for things to improve?
Is it bad to light the lamp of silence when dark winds howl?
Is it bad to speak good?
Is it bad to forgive when wounds are inflicted?
Is it bad to let blood stains be washed in tears?
When tired eyes seek mercy for a wrong
Is it bad to do good when evil seems to persevere?
(c) Anavah 2019
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 5:54 AM UTC
One day I will have a home
With a roof that shelters me
One day I will have a home
With a pantry that satiates my needs
One day my home will clothe me in modesty
One day I will have a home
That isn't swayed by the frothy seas.
One day I will have a home
That celebrates my uniqueness
A home that shelters me
From the prongs of society
Poking into my very essence
One day I will have a home
Where the promise of deliverance lingers
Beyond a Sunday afternoon worship.
One day my home
Will not ****** up my peace of mind
Because it will be a part of it
One day my home will welcome me with wide arms
One day I will have a home that wraps me in a hug
When I am broken to the point of no return
A home that will celebrate my joy
One day I will have a home.
One day I will have a home
With a bed that rests my wearied bones
Without questioning my weariness
Without pointing fingers at my uselessness.
A home where the skies will not scortch
The dried tears of the past
Fountains will spring
When one day I have a home.
(c) Anavah 2019
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 5:53 AM UTC
Oh sweet Canaan
Land of milk and honey
Flowing with promises of divine bliss
Oh Canaan
The fruit of my wails
Your desire my heart assails
Come to me in silent beckoning
Oh Canaan
My lips are parched in desire
Acquiesce to my need for belonging
A roof over my head
That I can be relish in the security
Of a divine and eternal promise.
(c) Anavah 2019
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 5:52 AM UTC
A tarnished fire
Loathe to burn and reluctant to subside
All perishable moments hide
Desire reigns in its monopoly
Of lust greed and avarice.
Logic binds truth to proofs
Passions bind reality to power
Power oozing from one wound to another
Violence upholding peace
Vengeance at the crux of justice.
Peeling off layers of presumptions
The nakedness of beliefs
Voiced in chants of supremacy
Sprinkled with the blood of pointless sacrifices
Purified in hate and prejudice.
Morality is as flawed as mortality
Susceptible to as many ailments
Yielding to the whims of time and memory
Moments pass and monuments erode
History is retold in fantasy.
(C) Anavah 2019
Jan 3, 2019
Jan 3, 2019 at 6:07 AM UTC