Crafting Poems

There once was a lord of the forest, It dwelled in the great hills and nourished the land But People prayed because this lord was the last. They sang songs to lament the forest, They passed stories to remember that in this land; There once was a lord of the forest. The lord knew it would soon cease to exist  so it shed its skin, crawled into its shell to prepare But People prayed because this lord was the last. So in deep slumber fell the lord of the forest, It grew weary, because the songs said it was the end; 'There once was a lord of the forest'. The land flourished just as it had in the past The lord forgot to hear, so did mankind, But people prayed because this lord was the last. Now the gods laugh, at this people and this forest They laugh because this message is still carried in the wind; ‘There once was a lord of the forest, But People prayed because this lord was the last’.

Call me human “A historical account of the sixty two years Indo- Naga war, And the story of those who were never allowed to tell it” Kaka. D. Iralu I am but a nameless being I drift through life Hidden in the shadows Of the empire They who rule Refuse, time and again. For my history is shameful So they bury the shame Now there is nothing , Nothing to speak of Armed men have long trampled Erased and silenced Many, many, good people Yet I exist Nameless, as you call me. But if you ask, I will tell you I will tell you to call me ‘ human’ So ask, for I wish to be called    Human.

Almost home In this looming grey city Woven with concrete path Lands stitched together Brick by brick There exist A little corner A little land And many people Not tied together by language Nor by ones country But by the face A face so similar That a walk  through this little Tibet colony Is a walk, almost home.

I remember when you told me the story of a land, A land you held dear, a land from your memory. You said the morning sun was never visible in this land, Because the fog was all you could see from your memory. You said the hills were covered with alder trees, That you could almost smell the forest, from your memory. You said the grasslands exist so souls do not lose their way, But you have never seen the other side, even from your memory. You only taught me good things about this land, So I looked far and wide for this land from your memory. The morning sun is now visible; it sits above the blanket of fog, And sun is no longer defeated by the fog, from your memory. The alder forest now lives under concrete houses, But I would have liked to see the forest from your memory. The grasslands are now places for men the hide and ambush, The path of the soul, now exist only in your memory. But you tell me, worry not child with the ‘ro’ in h...

Agape I gave you one hundred seventy two thousand and eight hundred but you shrivelled and died before I could even give you a name. If I were asked for a word  that could hold the love I gave you the word would go as far back as Homer: agape one word, eternal just like the dawn you stopped breathing. Now you rest under the pine in a long sleep. Though I gave you one hundred seventy two thousand  and eight hundred  seconds you gave me just two days to love you. Now sleep little kitten, sleep well dear nameless one.