Imagine riding a horse into sunset
Or sitting with kids to hear rare stories
Or listening to country late into the night
Or picking beautiful flowers & berries,
With the one you truly love…
Imagine riding a horse into sunset
Or sitting with kids to hear rare stories
Or listening to country late into the night
Or picking beautiful flowers & berries,
With the one you truly love…
Now it rains heavily with thunder,
And with cold, her breezy messenger,
I watch the rain fall from my window,
Fast, soft drops crash into glass panes
This heavy rain ploughed, and sow,
Her lullabic seeds across my land,
Soft, sweet breezes reign with her
Battling a stranger for his umbrella,
In pitch darkness cover, so to mar
The path of this wary stranger
I pity but wait to see this little drama
While it rain heavily with thunder!
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Image from http://www.erdaren.com
Between you and me, truth be told, I see
An emptiness that begs to be undone, free
This moment here, the waves battle on in time
To fill the void, weapons are words forming lines
Can I ask for some token of understanding now
Let us fill this empty space, without caring how!
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Rhythm is joy, so it has come to be known here
In this land of emptiness, even so, you’re held dear
The void gives us a chance to connect the heart
All it takes are a few words, to learn a giving art
In this realm, the possible chances loving fate
Is today the same as it was then, or just a date?
Together let’s dream the honeyed dream of love
I hear the chirp, the time nigh for the white dove…
(c) Arunav Barua (I.I.T Guwahati, North Guwahati, Assam)
Many times I told myself that love is but a lie
It comes into a life and leaves without a trace
But since I met you, I feel more ambience;
The way you make me do things I do,
The way you smile and cherish life so
I see a golden ray
Giving light from afar
Up the lonely road
Near the cliffs edge
Where leaves fall in circles,
Caring about nothing
As they fall, happily
And the skies not seen
But a streak of sun light
Filing through waving trees
Now and then,
Rodents of tall trees,
Curious about the passerby
Rush through tree branches
Enjoying her damp dark nest
Which envelope the forest,
Playing, hide and seek,
Wondering what passerby’s seek,
Yet the road is quiet
Crafted from a thousand layers
Of fallen leaves piled up
One against another.
Amidst, yellow leaves care not,
If it falls, and lays on a red leaf.
But this is life’s green circle
Life may die to live!
But all through this I seek the way,
Through my land and her forest,
Blessed, yet seeking to see another land
**
A slope of rounded hills
Black against the horizon
Threatening the sun with its fierce thrust
With thin clouds streaking across the sky
**
The clouds underbellies glow reddish hue
The morning warmth fighting the heady moon
Wide plains stretched, savannah grass paradise
Sometimes lonely trees stand with the yellow grass
Ancient, raw, the scattered lights slowly gather together
The city below, and the hills standing guard like a soldier
Listen now, the Tsetse may disturb mornings peace
But the heat will come soon with her perfect grease
The road are shaded by thick groves of Eucalyptus and Vines
And the human settlement; houses, huts are all intertwined
Smell of ripe fruit romance the market ways
Tomatoes gutted, grapes squashed on the clay
And when the hills let the sun quietly rise above them
It was gold- unexplainable, like the lifecycle of a worm
Again, like the humble Queen risen from a sleep
Came the sun from the lands of the unknown deep
Smiling at the ones she had left to her solitary slumber
She leaves all, fauna, flora to a graceful wonder
Now there is light, the brown Earth bright
And on all things old, the sun shines her gold
Even when I walk,
In deaths dark shadow,
And the sun is hidden,
From my sight.
Yes.
When pestilence is near,
And people panic afraid.
Although fires rage.
Or the darkest night,
Has come upon me.
When illness nears,
And isolation is here,
Languishing
But.
With you, my beloved,
Close by my side.
I will not be afraid.
I will not be afraid.
Although the way,
Ahead is a mystery,
And changes happen.
I will not fear anything.
As long as you are near.
Your voice comforts me.
In my time of trouble.
Your touch is calming,
And my fears abate.
You are more precious,
Then all the gold to me.
Without you I’m nothing.
As I walk through the,
Deepest valleys,
I will fear not.
For you are always with me.
For we are one.
We are one.
My beloved.
I sit in my little space
To watch the world spin,
I watch kindness show
How joy and hope is sown
I consider the wind
And her benevolent ways,
How she spreads fertile seeds
To lands far and unknown
And realise as I strive to find happiness
That other people’s joy matter too
So when we watch the sunrise, let’s be kind to all that see it
Let’s help the destitute and broken, let’s help the sick too
Let’s consider the aging and those whose cries are for bread,
The homeless children in the street and depressed teenagers
At the end, life will become beautiful packages of hope
I like that I soak in the rain,
Catching water drops
That melt before my eyes
I play with Nature’s gifts,
Dancing with the wind,
My free, worthy friend!
Rejoicing when our pots fill
To embrace mother Nature’s bliss
In a village dwelt a poor old woman, who had gathered together a dish of beans and wanted to cook them. So she made a fire on her hearth and that it might burn the quicker, she lighted it with a handful of straw. When she was emptying the beans into the pan, one dropped without her observing it, and lay on the ground beside a straw, and soon afterwards a burning coal from the fire leapt down to the two. Then the straw began and said: ‘Dear friends, from whence do you come here?’ The coal replied: ‘I fortunately sprang out of the fire, and if I had not escaped by sheer force, my death would have been certain,–I should have been burnt to ashes.’ The bean said: ‘I too have escaped with a whole skin, but if the old woman had got me into the pan, I should have been made into broth without any mercy, like my comrades.’ ‘And would a better fate have fallen to my lot?’ said the straw. ‘The old woman has
destroyed all my brethren in fire and smoke; she seized sixty of them at once, and took their lives. I luckily slipped through her fingers.’
‘But what are we to do now?’ said the coal.
‘I think,’ answered the bean, ‘that as we have so fortunately escaped death, we should keep together like good companions, and lest a new mischance should overtake us here, we should go away together, and repair to a foreign country.’
The proposition pleased the two others, and they set out on their way together. Soon, however, they came to a little brook, and as there was no bridge or foot-plank, they did not know how they were to get over it. The straw hit on a good idea, and said: ‘I will lay myself straight across, and then you can walk over on me as on a bridge.’ The straw therefore stretched itself from one bank to the other, and the coal, who was of an impetuous disposition, tripped quite boldly on to the newly-built bridge. But when she had reached the middle, and heard the water rushing beneath her, she was after all, afraid, and stood still, and ventured no farther. The straw, however, began to burn, broke in two pieces, and fell into the stream. The coal slipped after her, hissed when she got into the water, and breathed her last. The bean, who had prudently stayed behind on the shore, could not but laugh at the event, was unable to stop, and laughed so heartily that she burst. It would have been all over with her, likewise, if, by good fortune, a tailor who was travelling in search of work, had not sat down to rest by the brook. As he had a compassionate heart he pulled out his needle and thread, and sewed her together. The bean thanked him most prettily, but as the tailor used black thread, all beans since then have a black seam.
Life is strings of memories,
Little moments and turning points,
Love and forgiveness,
Flowers and breezy nights,
Happiness and bird watching…
Life is living experience,
Horse riding and beaches,
Hiking and sunset,
Coconut juice and warm soups,
So life is found most in simple things…
***
Beware! There’s a furry ninja lurking in the shadows of this tree! Like when you see him in this slow-mo vid.
The trees here are home to many squirrels and birds and it’s just at my backyard! I have known these squirrels since I was a kid. This morning I patiently waited to watch them exercise.
My camera couldn’t capture the background hills exactly. I live up a hill, so it’s hard to capture a hill from a hilltop. I can never get enough of this view.
Ututu oma! Unu mere anwunu? Good morning. Hope everyone is fine. I’m returning to town today.
Swift breezes welcome me to my hometown
My mind is at rest, for the love felt around
Palm trees are sentries, termites their soldiers
Cherries and mangoes throw fruits, sweet as sugar
Swift breezes blow through our quiet neighbourhood
I stand under tree shades, with my hands raised
When tree leaves struggle all about breezy Ovim
To enjoy mild acquaintance: my forever home!
***
Reflecting on my writing history I’ll say it hasn’t been easy. Writing from rural and semi urban Africa can be challenging; poor internet connection, little or no research resource and electricity issues. Despite all these, seeing your vote, like, comment, share or a new follower is an indicator that there’s progress.
For your support dear friends, I’ve got loads of thank you. I’m grateful. Your presence here fuels me. Thank you for being part of this African story.
Earlier this evening, I overheard the women talk; my mother, aunts, some helpers and my little sister. From my room window, I heard their discussion on the funeral and all they did to make it a success. Usually, I don’t eavesdrop on women chats, but I couldn’t help but listen to this particular discussion. I admire their ability to make things light even with their busy schedules. They did all the cooking, cleaned the house and compound, washed everything, and served the visitors who came for the funeral. What got my attention was their discussion on how they successfully implemented their plan. I admire and appreciate these women and their ingenuity. I wonder what they could do if they were in political posts. I think they will make good leaders and that African lawmakers should encourage female politicians to take up more political positions.
I sit in my room, trying to overcome the stress from the past week. I bared my mind to different thoughts. It is heartwarming seeing people work to make things happen for others. I am grateful to you all for your prayers and wishes. The family remain the most significant positive energy ever!
I am re-reading a drama, Robin Hood I found in my father’s box. I think my mind needs some education—Goodnight everyone. 😗
I sit outside the house alone. It’s hot inside and few hours ago our house was filled with people who came to pay their last respect to my late sister. I’ve been busy, mentally and emotionally that I hardly had time for my physical self. People who knew me observed that I lost weight.
Three weeks and counting I’m still busy, on the road, to and fro the hospital she died in, paying medical bills, receiving visitors and other family errands, making arrangements for her burial which is fixed this Thursday, 20 February and my work. I recall my last discussions with my sister and how we all laughed over a joke. She is no more to share this life, no evening Bollywood or chats, no dinner or singing, no one to tease and no one to tell silly jokes. Indeed, life and its vain pursuits can be funny.
It’s human to feel pain, to feel sad and to be grateful for life. I’m consoled as a Christian and believe that my sister rests, perfectly in peace.
Good night everyone.
Your words become silent lyrics to my soul
When every evening we lay in each others arms
Letting our thoughts roar with the warm fire
Dreaming, resting by the fireside, away
From the world and her noisy hustle
In the morning the mild golden sun rise above the huts and hills
Painting the corn fields yellow and making the streams shimmer
Upon flowing rivers it glitters, till the dead end below a tree root
Big fishes stay ready to strafe up to pick insects off tree barks
In the hamlets, dogs chased cats, children played here and there
Men and boys went towards the great forests beyond the hills
To check hidden traps tucked away or tend to their farm needs
Girls pound yams, making dishes with bush meat from hunters
In the evenings, children and elderlies gather to hear night tales
When the moon light shine and the airs are soothingly mild
Everyone who wished to hear the tale of the night gather for it
And when it is told, even before the tales end many bent snoring…
Your smiles are good therapy, they tickle my soul
It takes me to great heights of love and brings me joy
When you smile, you remind me of the rose flower,
The parting of your red lips, a memory to cherish
In your beautiful warm smile I find unspoken love,
It showed me untold and revered blessedness
And says much about you that I never knew
But in all, your smiles are exotic, healing to my eyes