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Up the steep steps
as you reach the age old fort,
you breathless behold
the green valley down below
and that magnificent mound of rock
by the name Robinson Hill.

In the sweet silence of birds' chirping,
the winds reek of rifles and gun smoke
and you hear not the rustling leaves
but bullets echoing all over the valley
one more down, another down
as they held the fort till fell breathless
passing into tombs and memorials
you read to pause for a breath
up above the green valley
where the grasses grew over the blood.
Duar War (1865) declared by the British on the Bhutanese.
Inadequately armed and outnumbered, the Bhutanese fought gallantly at the Buxa Fort, Duars before falling to the might of a superior army.
A visit to the Buxa Fort in April, 2016 inspired this write.
in the darkness,
there are different kinds of light
.
there are lights that;
too bright for you to see the truth,
too dim for you to distinguish the reality from fantasy.
there are also lights that may burn you down.

but the best of all is the light that comes from him---
Our Father.

Our God

©IGMS
lesson #4 from moth

To be able to distinguish the different kind of lights is to open the eyes of your heart.

tap or click the #igmslessonsfromanimals tag button to read the other lessons
In my entourage
people laugh
I got used to it.

In my center stage
I was the comedian
who never likes
his job.

In my closing remarks
their entertainment
was fulfilled.
I on the other hand
got drained
from my mistakes
turned to be pretty
funny,
never was that
my intention.
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1630227/clown-i/

i guess i got used to it, being laugh at. a job that im forever tainted
well its okay, im good, im still strong to pull through, soon I'll get
out of this....

thanks, for reading
sometimes we just
needed to let this out
of our system...
River one gulp
Sea one gulp
Ocean one gulp
Universe one gulp

Self-choking

So hard to swallow
Upon a huge, lush garden,
on a cold autumn day...
various leaves fall, in sweet surrender...
some still rise and go with the forceful wind
floating...along with dreams, wishes and prayers
murmured in the air...uttered fervently
...from near......or faraway places
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

papers, leaves, souls, sighs, and whispers
all circulate, dance in the air...blending with nature
like drifters...and seekers, far from their homes
their habitats...their comfort zones,
suspended, in the atmosphere of every season
...yielding...to the will of the wind,
...while the wind obeys...the will of God
they swirl...land, on new destinations
face new dimensions...
friendlier seas...no more running, just waiting,
while winds of change settle down
touching new base, new grass,
hoping, for a peaceful existence,
for some....the end of life's turbulent journey
..........on safe...tranquil grounds...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

somewhere near, or far...huge gardens exist
where leaves fall, where some rise again,
where new beginnngs, new lives are offered...
havens that welcome and accommodate
...refugees...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Sally


Co­pyright August 27, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
#Not all dry  leaves on our lawn  come from our own trees,
      some are blown, from faraway places...
      the wind is a big net, catching molecules of prayers, wishes,
      bits and pieces of floating objects...
      some people see other places as a haven, compared to theirs...
      they try to flee...some succeed, while others keep trying...there
      are those who just want to finally rest, on peaceful grounds...#
JUST

IMAGINE

THE

WORLD

IF

WE

ALL

LOVE

EACH

OTHER !!
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