The killings occurred early Wednesday morning,
Although gray is the most common color;
The she wolf’s fur meant something more…
Protection to the little cub whose body rested beside her
Who killed them, no one knew…
But the evening would offer the fallen, mother and son…
A proper funeral, hopefully.
There’re tribes in the forest…
These tribes, they said, worship animals
Their millions and millions of gods
And goddesses; shelter in these creatures of the wild
Maybe the bullet was stronger than those gods.
And what’s a bullet made of?
Copper…lead? Polymer and steel?
Are they the new gods? These things…these materials.
‘Cause if they’re, then, the old gods need to buckle up.
It’s going to be a war…
Between the old and the new…
And when the war would be over
One would replace the other.
Not a leprechaun in sight!
When I was five
I was told ‘bout leprechauns.
Nasty little creatures, they…
It was said, they’d a pot of gold
Hidden at the end of a rainbow…
Now, for a rainbow, you’d need rain
And the Indian rain gods are not quite trustworthy.
No matter how long I waited for a rainbow to come out,
Years passed and I grew up.
I grew old.
Rainbows formed and withered away,
Just like my childhood memory of the leprechauns.
Can a grown man in a rushing nation like India
Think of a hidden pot of gold at the end of a rainbow!?
One autumn afternoon, when I was out walking,
I bumped into a little cobbler with long hanging beard and a drooping moustache.
“Ahoy!” he called, and tossed something in my direction.
It fell right by my feet, it was a gold coin.
Before I could pick the coin, the little cobbler disappeared into the crowd.
I picked it up, anyway.
I found there was a note stuck on the other side of the coin.
It read- TAKE THIS AND STAY AWAY FROM MY POT OF GOLD!
You call me a refugee
You call me a refugee….insult?
It’s sort of a badge,
It makes me robust,
You call me a terrorist….insult?
That reminds me of my husband,
Terrorists killed him….
Don’t feel sad; it happens.
Oh I loved my land, I loved those mountains,
My little lamb, my family and my country.
But I had to leave…
Poverty, violence, persecution… you know…
They were killing us.
I came to your land for shelter,
You call me a refugee?
I thought I was a human.
The Universe was expanding in a bell-jar
The Universe was expanding in a bell-jar,
Not everyone was aware of it.
Those who were though;
No one cared ‘bout them.
Celts had known this,
Romans wiped half of them;
The remaining half they tamed.
Ptolemy might have argued, too
But something unusual happened;
Apoplexy and paralysis took him.
There was another man, Kepler;
Did great calculations,
His burial site was lost when Swedes attacked.
His partner, Tycho, was great too,
When he died, some said he was poisoned.
They exhumed his body twice,
Then they said…
He likely died of a burst bladder.
The Universe was expanding in a bell-jar;
It was to break its glass,
But was never to shrink again.
The day Beowulf died
(A conversation between two Anglo-Saxon villagers, Chad and Cuthbert)
Stealing a jeweled cup from the liar of a dragon?
It's fury drowned the land of Geats in floods of fire.
Houses were crushed.
So much blood, so much gore!
And the smell of burning flesh stole the very sense of smell from the people.
Who was it,the thief?
A slave, you say?
Oh, curse be upon his soul.
He's more responsible for the death of our beloved king than the blasted dragon was!
But our king...Oh! Our brave king,
Beowulf, the slayer of Grendel and his damned hag.
Our protector, he went to slay the dragon.
His thanes, those curs!
They ran away, afraid of the dragon…
Everyone did but for loyal Wiglaf.
His sword pierced the dragon's belly but it was too late,
Our beloved king had taken the fatal blow by then.
Today his funeral pyre will be lit,
And we'd construct a mound later by the shoreline.
In the memory of the noblest of the kings.
Rest easy Beowulf.