My Muse

On the cool monsoon breeze

You drifted in to caress my cheek.

Then gently floating down to rest

By my unaware palm. While I

Too busy and very engrossed

Continued with an oblivious fervor.

So there you lay

Patient and indulgent.

 

Waiting for  Imagination to awaken

And take us on that flight of fancy.

TRAGEDY

We stopped at Lockerbie on our drive from Manchester to Edinburgh . Here , we visited "The Garden of Remembrance"  at the local cemetery , built to commemorate the victims of the Pan Am disaster of 21st December 1988.

The picture below is of an angel on a tombstone erected many years , in fact decades, before the disaster . But it felt as if the angel was still in prayer for those who died in the crash .

We spent a quiet few moments in remembrance while a row of cherry blossoms carpeted  the grounds with their petals.

TRAGEDY

An angel stood
Fearful and petrified.
As bits of shattered dreams then gently
Drifted aimlessly, on wings that had broken presently.

An angel stood
Sorrowful and helpless.
As icy December winds could not put out the flames
That roared alive as misguided men ..played their merciless games.

An angel stood
Quiet and sad.
As charred ashes ....returned to Earth
Bringing to an abrupt end ..a journey begun at birth.


An angel stood
Silent and in prayer .
For unlucky souls ..that Peace they find
And Strength ... for those they had left behind.

An angel stood
Watchful and tireless.
As the cherry blossoms ...for decades and years
Profuse in a delicate pink ..wept copious and silent tears.

Flight

In stone, a sculptor with his skillful art
Had cast the emotions of my very heart
For in the middle of the lake in broad daylight
Stood the swans , all ready for flight .
My ideas and thoughts waiting to be free
With wings outstretched for their flights of fancy .

Singapore Botanical Gardens.

For Writer's Island prompt : 11 April 2008 / "Flight"

The Flight of the Eagle

(About Man’s life cycle).

Taking baby steps on the sill , the little Sun arose.

Rubbing off some sleep even as the young cock crows.

An inquiring cry of an awakening world

As to a new day, the Earth had twirled.

On backs of sunbeams, the twitter did travel

In the nest fledglings, did themselves unravel.

An incessant flutter of parental flurry

Their insatiable mouths a constant worry.

The young day is now growing into noon

Everything’s a rush, nothing ever too soon.

Eager to spread their wings, they sit on the edge,

The horizon and beyond, to adventure they pledge.

At the zenith now, the Sun, it is all afire

Its form, its radiance, for all to admire.

A once scrawny chick , is now a soaring eagle

With piercing eyes and its wing span so regal.

The day has matured into a dusky twilight

The majestic eagle soon takes its last flight .

The old feathers are tired and his eyes a bit bleary.

Sits alone and isolated in the silence of his eyrie

The red arc soon sizzles into the blue and out of sight

Making way for the darkness of a moonless night.

The eagle has flown on its oh-so powerful wings

Only the twinkle of a star, does his memory bring.

Writer's Island Prompt : "Flight " / 11th April 2008