The Ashes of Glory

And the Warriors rode on
Battered and bruised they were
But a passion seared in them
Lit up by a flame raging for a hundred years
Remember they did, their fathers who passed to them
The baton of undying spirit
As the don looked over the shoulders of one bunch
The beefy Both inspired the other
They fought like men possessed, they fought like champions
And what a fiery bunch they were
There was the wizard, the conjurer
The one they said was six hundred old
And then there was the old master from down under
The one they said was the picture of perfection
There was the lightning man
The one they said killed at will
Together they reckoned they could plunder the queen’s land
Never were they beaten in more than a decade
But matched were they all this time
There was the quartet swinging away to glory
With the incredible hulk breathing down their necks
Then there was the man from Africa who never said never
But what mattered most was the general
The one who commanded the utmost confidence
The picture of serenity he was
Brave they said he was to threaten the unconquered
Brave because he had questioned the supremacy
Of the greatest army of our times
But greatness lies not in knowing
And oft repeated it may be, but greatness always lies in doing
And together they did the unthinkable, the unforeseeable
They thwarted the march of the nigh unmatchable kangaroos
Their war cries were loudest, their sabers the quickest
Folklore it was then, carved out forever on the sands of time
The names of those who fought for the Ashes of glory.
And as the night set in, a distant voice could be heard saying
“The king is dead, long live the new king”

Ages and Ages

Ages and Ages

Who among the two was the greater?
Was it Achilles who fought for glory and his own pain
or was it Hector who fought to save all he held dear
Both are men who died for beliefs
Do we even care why; all we ask them is how?
How is it that they rid the fears that cloud our judgement.
We who wait for the dark clouds to part and wait for the ray
while not realizing ever so often that those moving, monstrous clouds;
are more beautiful than the pale glow of the sun.
Why do we stoop and shirk just when we have to realize that our time is here.
The Macedonian rode on faster as the armies facing him got bigger
The more treacherous the terrain got the louder the khan thundered through the valleys
'The naked fakir' was at peace even with a million muskets pointed at him
'The saint and his sister' smile for their people even when in chains
The yellow rider pedalled on even in the face of the greatest pain of them all
and yet we look up to them and do not realize;
They dare to fail while we fail to dare
We as men possess darkness far greater than any dark lord
and possess the light far brighter than the gods.
Fallible we are our greatest gift
something which even the gods fear
because when we try we are remembered through the ages
we dream dreams and have visions far beyond the realms of the possible
Like the Samurai brandishing his sword we become fearless,
the knowledge of mortality helps us to it
Why then wait for the dark cloud to move
the path is always there, we only have to trudge along..........

Let us begin with the Mundane

Well sitting in my cubicle doing nothing made me realize that the most effective way to waste time is to write stuff and make people read it ask for their reviews. It is universally known that people do not criticize openly unless of course they happen to have a sadistic streak in their character and take pride in trivializing any attempt at serious sophisticated writing. And then I thought I could also get space to write my own poems and short stories which otherwise would be rejected by any respectable and some not so respectable magazines, papers;media in general. Soon I hope I can get more and more people to come forth and have a read at some of my literary gems as I fondly call my doodlings, so all the dudes and dudettes, here I go, I am starting with a poem that rambles on about human failings.