Autumn of one’s life

A gray old woman sits all alone
Unloved, uncherished and unknown.
Sitting beside her broken door.
Dreaming of days past long ago,
When children played about her knee,
Filling the air with childish glee,
Tended by her with loving care.
Knowing the blessing of a Mother’s prayer.
But now they have gone, each to his life
A girl to her husband, a boy to his wife,
Forgetful are they of her who sits here,
Silently wiping a tricking tear,
For striving for things in a life so brief,
Blind their poor eyes to a dear Mother’s grief.
But does she upbraid them in word or in mind.
Nor does their neglect to her seem unkind.
She’ll forgive and forget all unkindness they’ve shown
This poor old mother who sits alone.
I see the sadness in your eyes,
The times that you are knowing
What’s happening to your wondrous mind,
The symptoms you are showing.

It was so hard to recognize,
When they started coming through.
The little things that changed you
From the person that I knew.

The doctor’s confirmation
Was so hard to accept,
To know that little could be done,
That there’s no cure as of yet.

Forgive me, dear, if sometimes
I give in to my frustrations.
It’s just so overwhelming,
This change in our relations.

Now I’m the one to be on guard,
To keep you safe from harm,
Protecting you the best I can
And not showing my alarm.

I hope you still can understand
How much you mean to me.
Though you curse me, or forget me,
I’ll accept what has to be.

For I will still remember
The joys that we once shared.
You showed me in so many ways
How very much you cared.

I pray to God to give me strength
To do what must be done,
To trust that in the future
This battle will be won.

© The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source-www.googleimages.com

ON A RED WINE TRAIL

A glass of red wine

On a cold night,
lies a circular lake
the colour of blood;
Christ’s blood.
Wavering liquid
and dancing lights,
breathing spirit
from red enigma.
It shines and reflects
as I sit to ponder.

On life –
with mourners and celebrators,
travellers and settlers,
blood and water,
with old and new.
The first is last,
with numbers and signs,
in time and space,
with echoes and sirens.
Paths are etched,
erased or opened.
All is well.

Cupped in glass,
crystal or cracked.
A chalice,
a source,
a symbol of hope.
With one sip,
it engulfs and nourishes me
threefold.
A taste once foreign is
now medicine that heals.
Beyond all limits,
it’s mercy and grace.

Slipping down inside a crystal chandelier
red rouge cheeks running on through
breathe as visions settle in my mind
you’re just a little bit of nutty
with an apricot perfume
quite exceptional I do say
a kindred spirit bouquet

Teasing along the tip of my palate
caramel gaze of grandeur glows
as you kiss my parched lips away
partaking a perfect compliment
in every simple way
sparkles spill in anticipation
topping off a pleasant day.

© The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source- Www.widewallpapers.com

END OF REIGN

reign

End of Reign

“Death is inevitable. A reign that is created, must fall apart.”

The body will decompose or fly. The phony sculptures and mighty architectures will not stand still. One day or the other, it will atomize into soil and sand. It’ll worth nothing more than blowing dust. The power, we are fighting for, will fall. The dog tag of the religious illusions will melt. No culture, no belief, no faith will hold us together.

Pseudo brotherhood will die in vain.

The only fact of time-and-space is true. Evolution is just a word. Space between two-time periods is evolution. Cosmic energy that was travelling through space has given birth to this beautiful universe. From nothing all emerge. And after billions of years we took birth with no religion, no greed and no ego.

The experience we gathered, the knowledge we shared and the space between us has given our identity. The starvation and security forced us together. Later, pleasure and power overrun our judgment. Nationality, language, colour, habit, religion, circadian rhythm have bifurcated the freedom of living. And as we progress through time, one after another the light of Mesopotamian civilization, Indus valley civilization, Macedonian Dynasty, Maurya Dynasty, Roman Empire, Ottoman Empire, Mughal Empire, British Empire went off.

The rise of renaissance buried the social abuses and slavery. A new global awareness and care is spreading. Information and education, vision and ambition, rapid creation and destruction are erasing the myths, customs and traditions that don’t pace with time. Old must die, and new finds its place. And when it will reach its pick. Sooner or later the overexploitation and injustice towards this globe and automation will eventually destroy mankind, a new era will take place.

History will repeat itself. Same as dinosaur were once completely erased and we took their place. And eventually this planet will also end once the sun burn out all of its energy. Everything that we know today will turn into nothing.

The Death is the Ultimate Truth.


©The Honest FablerPooja Mukherjee
©Image Source – Google Images