AQ Lode

Scions Of Harmony

They call it faith, we call it belief
They call it a religion, we call it a doctrine
They see a cult, we see an association
They see a creed, we see an ideology
Ours are principles when they hear songs
We pray in devotion, ignore the motions
Our Emotions tied to our faith.

Like a fruit taught to bear of its kind
Phantoms whose frenzy never ends
Giving rise to this boring colony.
So are we in this unending dance
But I dreamt of wings
That graft a thistle to a rose bloom
A Manchineel to the sweet mango.

Imagine the beauty of the lilies
In the fragrance of a rose.
The thorns adorned by the thick Blanket
Of unending horizon, overflowing with blossoms
Imagine a world bedecked with the Beauty
The Beauty of our hearts, the colors of our emotions
Oh! Let the harmony scions rise!


 Wanderi55 ©2019 
On The Wheels Of Love
I met her when going to the river
To fetch water for my granny.
Down the river did we stride
And by the waters did we sit.

She asked “can you dare to love”
And I looked at the deciduous trees by the river
Now greener than ever.  

She inquired how much I could love
And I wondered of the flowing water
And the infinitude of the river source

She dared that I catch the fish by my barren hands,
And I gazed into her eyes.
Puzzled by the beaming joy that lurked forth.

She asked whether I could sing,
And I thought of the chirping birds on the trees,
And their Beautiful plumages.

She dared I collect water with my eyes closed,
Then did I feel the tenderness of her lips kissing mine.
And yes! I did wish and pray that I wasn't in a dream
But on the comfy wheels of true love.


  Wanderi55 ©2013
The Nude Dancer

 Ever wandered into the "mind" of a tornado or hurricane or maybe the infamous tsunami?
Well, the following are my stray thoughts into these machines of carnage:
Whats your pick?

The natural vocalist
Hums his tune across the street;
A single leaf not in his hands.
His rugby-shaped body nude
As he was when born.

Last summer
He was dressed of leaves,
And danced around the streets;
The folks watching
His spectacle bewildered.

This morning he passed by,
Just humming the country song-
The secret of night-time lovers-
And though the trees did lean
None clothed him.

Beyond the rubble
He quickly disappeared,
Ashamed of the empty theater;
Few folks afraid, of his vengeful return
While winter beckons.

  Wanderi55 ©2008




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