SHOBANA

  I know there are places that yearn to be free. I hear the whispers from deep within the springs of wells, of lands that once boasted verdant luxuriance, free from the dust and grime, pillage and hate, to awaken renewal, to reclaim their rightful heritage. They were once places of greatness, footholds of kings and princes, lords and majesty. This mighty imperial greatness was surrounded by the treasures befitting their vast kingdoms. Those who traversed the imperial lands were affluent, condemning the once disproportional, their heritage denounced, and disowned. They have deserted their virtues. Richness has clouded their senses and the soles of their feet are torched as they learn to feel the ground where once they tread with their feet raised. The hardships of the saddened have befallen them. But then I speak now of the places and not of its people. The lands are caught between the forsaken and the ruins. The heritage they symbolize has been shattered and torn. How hazardous the...

It was that time again To buy you flowers Though There's never a need for a special day a moment or  an occasion to show you my love with a handful of flowers. I did have a thought though To fill the house with yellow roses A picture of you came to mind and   I made it a garden. I know you would love the yellow roses and the scent of the roses sublime No other perfume will stray into the garden of roses. I can imagine the shine in your eyes I can imagine them filled with love I know that words will fail you But your smile will linger long in my mind to make me feel special. (For Jacky)  -shobana-

  I recount the days of old, When the streets were filled with laughter, When the hours were yours and yours alone, To do as you please, to wander. The lush gardens were filled with roses, The bees buzzed, The butterflies had time to break free from their cocoons, and turn into beauties that filled nature's paradise. The Mountain Dew turned into honey, and filled the land with much manna, so the children could be fed, and grow in numbers. The time was yours and yours alone. Then the ways of the world turned away from innocence, And the proud gathered dusts of gold, Forgetting that nothing was as precious, As the peace they let slip unknowing, That golden peace, once inherited by their children, Once Upon a Time, torn away, now beggars rummaging for food, dishevelled and dirtied, The children's cries are louder than the bombings, O, what sadness has befallen the world! Now, there is much heartbreak, the children are besieged in fear, They are fed no more, The mountains are fille...