The ides of March comes to a climactic finish.
The battle drums silent, the trumpet blares no more.
The soldier is relaxed, the booming guns cease.
A blissful quiet descends after a hellish uproar.
Homeward turns the tired steps, yonder in search of a shady nook.
Wafts back to her sheared mind a whiff of freshening breeze.
Like the balmy touch of a mother’s long lingering moist took.
Brightens her drooping gaze, blessed she is with her release.
With lamps lit at the door-step, she is awaited.
For a bug and cares of joyous welcome warm.
To one, a piece of our heart long confined & gated.
Southerly wind hums a tune, our darling is back home.
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 10:28 AM UTC
The ides of March comes to a climactic finish.
The battle drums silent, the trumpet blares no more.
The soldier is relaxed, the booming guns cease.
A blissful quiet descends after a hellish uproar.
Homeward turns the tired steps, yonder in search of a shady nook.
Wafts back to her sheared mind a whiff of freshening breeze.
Like the balmy touch of a mother’s long lingering moist took.
Brightens her drooping gaze, blessed she is with her release.
With lamps lit at the door-step, she is awaited.
For a bug and cares of joyous welcome warm.
To one, a piece of our heart long confined & gated.
Southerly wind hums a tune, our darling is back home.
It’s poetry by late Mr S M Ghosh, my late father
An educationist, history teacher and retired principal of Central School organization (KVS), in India. He authored history textbooks and also was a passionate writer.
Lately, I discovered the manuscripts of poetries from his study room and I thought the best tribute to the departed soul would be present his thoughts and messages to the poetry site for the readers, poetry lovers and enthusiast.