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Saumya Sep 2018
Yesterday, for a while,
When the doors were closed,
I heard a howl from an alluring primrose:
'Arise, Awake lest wear a cloak,
It's twelve, it's midnight
Our turn to explore'


Amazed, afraid yet stunned from this roar,
I steped, and ran towards the front door.
I peeped up and down,
Around all its cores,
But nothing but a melody was all I could explore! _

Curious, Agitated,
With a thirst to know more,
I sat restless
Gazing at the door.

Again came a shrill cry,
Of a man once known,
'May I enter, enter the door
And have some toast?'

Oh! All I could listen
Was to give him a toast,
But ah! I could'nt see
His head or nose!

I wondered, I wandered,
I could see him for sure,
But ah! This figure
I could see not anymore.

I turned back and walked towards my room's floor,
I felt some steps, following me for sure
I ceased, I turned and looked to the door,,
But couldn't see anything once more,
Before I sat in disgust,
Next to a pillow

I was hungry and thirsty,
So couldn't resist more,
And cozily teared a packet
To have some toast

But oh! a bite from it,
Or more,
Gave me chills, and shudders
Of kinds I never had for sure!

I turned back,
Saw a black big ghost,
I cried out loud,
And he stared more and more
He patted my shoulders,
Casually ya know!

His eyes so red,
And puffy ya know,
His skin was stained,
With humanish gore.

His nails so, long,
His figure so stout,
His cheeks and neck
Were a sorry sight
Oh! I dreaded seeing him,
And mostly looked out.
And prayed that he left Me
alone in my house

He sensed my annoyance,
The disgust I had then,
He sensed that I was scared,
From this ghostly man!

He smiled a smile,
I wondered then why,
He asked me to sit,
Saying twould all be alright,
If I'd have a seat
And plan not to fight.

Puzzled, annoyed, yet
I listened to it all,
As I sat down firmly,
In my dreary dining hall

He sat when I sat,
And asked me for small,
A glass of water, some toast
And shawls

I handed him some toast,
In his palms too large,
And served him water,
In a vessel much large

He ate and drank,
And burped so high,
And asked me
To give him a shawl
As twas late midnight

Scared, agitated,
I still dared to ask,
'May I know why thee need a shawl?
You look to un-human,
Behave not like us even,
I'm sure, you're a ghost,
From some hearthy heaven!

What makes ya come in my
Room afterall,
As I know the main door was locked afterall?
And While all are asleep, in this night too dark?'

He grinned,
He smiled,
Like a man too wise,
While his eyes were full
Of lamentous skies.
He Replied with a sigh,
With angst and disgust
Bleeding from his eyes:

'Ya got it right,
Ya got it right,
I'm a loveless,
Forsaken, deserted knight,
Once loved, twice rejected,
And sent to demise,
By my children, and thence by dear wife!'.

I begged for my food,
I begged for my home,
But Oh what I got?
Was a life alone!

I loved them most,
They hated me utmost,
I was fooled by the ones
Who I thought were so close!

I lost my health,
I lost much more,
I lost my body,
Because of them therefore!

But ah! This time,
The time and our deeds,
Yield just that
What best deserve thee!

I begged for them then,
They beg, beg now,
They loved me not then,
No one loves them now,
And oh what they are they,
Is but a sad, sad clown!
And ah what they earn,
Is but a ***** frown!

This shawl oh girl,
That I asked ya to give,
Was for my unfortunate,
Unhealthy kids.

I can't see them weep,
And beg at streets,
I can't see them starve,
For their slightest meal.

I tread in dark,
And sob at my children,
I wish, I wish
I could atleast pamper them!
And a shawl this night,
In this chilly, frosty night,
Would what i think,
Would be the best present,
But my dear, deserted, unloved children
To rest in this night.
So cold to awaken.

I walked with him,
He walked with me,
He showed me the place,
Where lay his children,
In an utterly bad state.


I asked him to wait,
Ran back to my house,
And collected all the shawls
I got that night.


I came back running,
With the heap of shawls,
While my tears knew no end,
I knew not ,how to stop them at all!


He grabbed the shawls,
Handed it to them,
But ah those kids!
Couldn't feel his hands.


He smiled and sobbed
At this instance,
And thanked me well,
With his shivering big hands!


He asked me a leave,
With his heart at sleeves,
While he vanished in grey,
In those dusty, grey streets.

Just an imagination :)

Please let me know how was this poem.( This is my very first horror poem this far.)
Saumya Sep 2018
And one fine day, She uttered her truths,
A truth that had been, ever misunderstood:
That people were great, some often good,
But oh their certainty, stability are such goods,
Each in the control of time's  hook,
Ever transforming like a fountain or brook,
But none can complete with
The loyalty of books.
It's intensity, it's intimacy and all forsooth,
Are truly the virtues that nurtures one like good food.

The time, it's tides, or the world in blue,
All tells, all revolve round a nucleus,
Called 'Book'.
It lets you have a look, inside your very own look.
People come, some wait some go,
Who knows what, why, and who'd next go ?
There are the grains of time bound sand,
They slip off swift, from your happy land.

But oh a book, Once in your hand,
Is the precious companion,
For your very life's span,
As it nurtures your soul,
Into a wiser man's!

And Oh when the world,
Doesn't give a ****,
Why not approach a book,
That gives you plans,
Of letting go it all ,
that isn't a cinch worth your plans?

Stick in with these gems, the most then you can
For they tell that, what most often can't
Of life, it's creator, it's creatures, it's land,
Of all that you've wondered,
And still can.

The people, the time, all creatures, and land
All change, all change,
In time's hand,
But ah! The books,
And worthy men,
Who like and love to read
Often, often, as much as they can,
Are but Indeed blessed by a 'friend'
That can never fail them,
They can approach as they wish,
And any time, as much as they can.

The tides, the storms, are but their friends,
For they sail them off to other land,
A land that may embrace,
The persistence in them.
They endure, endure, as much as they can,
But Oh! That they complain,
Show pride in them?
Is something that we never see of them.

They're eternal, they're lively,
And inspire men,
Even when the rains,
Imbibes it's words
And takes them off into a land.

Their words, their thoughts,
Are like seeds in a garden,
That feeds well our love for devotion,
And feeds our delicate heart and brain.

Oh if I get to chose between the two,
A book, and a wealthy person,
A book, A book, is what I'll choose,
As it's my undying loyal friend,
An indispensable manure,
For my mind's garden!
All your feedbacks are most welcome :)
Saumya Aug 2018
It is often when I tend to pause and introspect  on life, my experiences with in in general. It is in such moments, I feel  myself imbibed, yet  so stunned  at the realisation of the fact, that it is so knowingly, yet often most unknowingly that we affect everyone whose life's paths we cross through! It may sure be the case that  we don't mean too much to a person as the other person already does, but then, what we still are mostly unaware of at that moment, is how beautifully, intensely or pathetically does our little acts and attitudes may be already affecting others, and theirs to us. Would our  lives be okay as it is currently, when the same situation is just altered a little by deducting air from it? Would we still be sitting so patiently as we are now, even if everything was same, except the mere deduction of water from our life? The mere absence of shelter and food yet again are the elements, whose mere mention of absolute deductance would be good and great enough to stop the mere throbbing of our heartbeats which might already have slowed or rather started being too swift by now!
It is interesting, how some elements are just a trifle to be valued, before we realise how worse our lives could be
only by their absence, or well departure! Doesn't that same rule applies for us people too? Most don't value  the hardworking yet lowly paid people like a builder or the labourer who builds their House, or mansion, as much as they value their guests and inhabitants that get into it after it's finally finalized. The guest obviously are worth the praise but aren't those
labours?  ask this to yourself for a moment, that what would your house be like if there were no labourers to make that happen! The house that keeps us safe and cosy now, is but many  day and night's struggles of someone who worked hard to make it happen in reality. He, his soul deserves to be praised for making your dream, your dream home come alive! It often makes me smile at some kindered souls whose ultimate profession is working for humanity, it's wellness, It's enrichment, It's improvement, and it's best progress, therefore I can't help but smile wide, when I come across a truly  honest teacher, doctor, mentor, poets or writers ever. They have a spark that's so  refreshing, inspiring and contagioud! They indeed are those eminent souls who nurture and enrich the souls of others so piously and profoundly, and it is often that they are just  so unaware of this preciousness and the greatness they so majestically possess!They pour in us, the true essence of the goodness our world is made up of, and make us feel a like a viable part of it. They brighten our days. it's a blessed blessing to be in the company of such gems, truly!

Afterall, us humans are so alike the state of matter called 'liquid', that is known for its 'adaptability' .It hardens and softens with  the change in temperature. sometimes hardened by our outer world's that haunts us often, yet are very eagerly  inter-convertible. And it is hence, when  the truest, and enlightening essence of  eminent souls touch us, embrace us, we transform in their moulds, sometimes and little and sometimes a lot. Sometimes very finely, and sometimes too coarsely, built in a confined type with the advent of time, and it is then, years after years, we become a person and then a personality that we let time , and the people that tread through it, in our lives transform us into. Every little to large element affects us, in ways we often don't know of. Everything teaches and tells us of life it's stories, it comes with lessons, and our hearts, out consciousness perceives them too, from time to time. We  shape mysteriously, yet so mysteriously   in and into the vessel of life eventually, that we interestingly don't realise the intensity of the change until someone else remarks us of it, and makes us realise it. These changes are just this mystical and inevitable! And change is the law of time.
From my ongoing book, "The Philosophical Lessons Life Taught".(The other chapters have been posted on page too .
Check them out if you wish to)
All your comments, feedbacks, suggestions etc. Are most welcome :)

Thank-you so much for stopping by, and going through the chapter (s) :)

Sincerely,
Saumya.
  Aug 2018 Saumya
Sally A Bayan
Ask...and you shall be given answers
seek...and you'll be told where to look
knock...say, hello?...hello? hellooow?
a voice named siri replies:
"is it me you're looking for?"
i think,
the eyes, the mind, even the heart, need
clear, goggle-like glasses, for 20/20 vision,
to grasp, to discern,  be forewarned,
not to be overwhelmed by whatever
data unfolds on the screen

they say, there are contrived solutions,
for life's every complication
search engines are accessible to all
just press specific keys, and, Voila!
surf, play...easy games, easy friends
but, can they really answer all questions?
every human question?.........like,
do elephants really cry? how did it occur
that they have excellent memories?
is Timbuktu modernized now?
are there still surviving cannibals?
will the remaining Bee Gees member,
tell us how to mend a broken heart?
do rosicrucians really possess secret wisdom?
what happened to you and me?
how do i save myself from emotional vampires?
how do i cook pad thai?
...and how do i get you out of my mind?
why does the rooster crow after midnight
how does logarithm work with poetry?
do dogs have souls?  do they visit their
masters?....i miss my dogs Misty and Tiny,
...and i miss you...what's wrong with me?
God, why do i even bother to ask?

my goggled eyes are blinded by grief
my goggled mind refuses to forget
this goggled life of mine feels empty
and it has nothing to do with technology...


Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    July 23, 2018
.......not just a silly love poem, my poet friends:))
...a piece that resulted from rainy days, while thinking of wearisome issues on a Monday:-]
...............
Saumya Aug 2018
If 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth graciously on silence's table,
and studyeth mine own evolved, yet un-evolv'd self,
undisturbed, unhurried, un-agitated,
by w'rld's brightest gulf
. and smileth backeth, as i seeth myself.


if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth comf'rtably on peace's table,
and gaze mine own wounded, yet un-wound'd self,
un-agitated, un-deviated, unmoved,
by w'rld's s'rry self
. and smileth backeth, as i seeth myself.

if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth calmly on agony's table,
and obs'rve mine own painful, yet not painful self,
unmoved, undaunted, unleashed,
by w'rld's weirdest self,
. and smileth backeth, as i seeth myself.

if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth fain on glee's table,
with mine own eyes smiling, and smiling at myself,
unaffected, unguarded, unremitted,
by w'rld's unrequit'd self
. and grineth backeth, at myself.

if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
twill forsooth beest a did bless, contending  miracle,
as yond's at which hour i couldst pateth & greeteth myself,
in real, in real, in real!
and maketh this fact p'rceivable,
yond our w'rld may sure oft hest struggles,
and our m're existence in t,
may just beest negligible,
but we nev'r gotta f'rget
to stayeth hopeful, smileth and giggle,
nay matt'r how hard the struggles,
as yond's the most wondrous fuel,
yond can oft causeth miracles,
in a w'rld,
so obsess'd with struggles!

And then with a sigheth,
a blooming grineth,
yet a sparkling desire within,
i'll did bid myself,
a farewell
Saumya Jul 2018
If I ever happen to meet myself,
I'd sit graciously on silence's table,
And study my evolved, yet un-evolved self,
Undisturbed, unhurried, un-agitated,
By world's brightest gulf.
...and smile back, as I watch myself.


If I ever happen to meet myself,
I'd sit cozily on peace's table,
And watch my wounded, yet un-wounded self,
Un-agitated, un-deviated, unmoved,
By world's sorry self
...and smile back, as I watch myself.

If I ever happen to meet myself,
I'd sit calmly on agony's table,
And observe my painful, yet not too painful self,
Unmoved, undaunted, unleashed,
By world's weirdest self,
...and smile back, as I watch myself.

If I ever happen to meet myself,
I'd sit gladly on glee's table,
With my eyes smiling, and smiling at myself,
Unaffected, unguarded, unremitted,
By world's unrequited self.
...and grin back, at myself.

If I ever happen to meet myself,
Twill indeed be a blessed, contending  miracle,
As that's when I could pat & greet myself,
In real, In real, In real!
And make this fact to myself perceivable,
That Our world may sure often demand struggles,
And our mere existence in it,
May just be negligible,
But we never gotta forget
To stay hopeful, smile and giggle at ourselves,
No matter how hard,
or harder are the struggles,
As that's the precious fuel,
That can truly cause miracles,
In a world,
Often so obsessed with struggles!

And then with a grin,
A sparkling hope within,
I'll bid myself,
A sweet, serene,
farewell.
Just a thought :)
All your feedbacks are most welcome :)
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