Voices Of The Heart by Emmenay (debian ebook reader txt) 📖

knows, no one can,
But I am face to face with the man,
The man outside, the man within,
The man whom God calls a man.

(60) IN SEARCH OF PEACE

Liars, deceivers, plunderers stare,
Humanity likes naked, rendered bare,
Tell me, is this all fair?
One day, God willing, I shall rise,
And cleanse this world of wars and vice,
Will you O friend, be as wise?
Haiku and venting one's wounded heart,
Has no effect on these wild dogs,
Why not lure them into a sea of sharks?
Doomsday is a day that tyrants shall bring,
when there won't be autumn, winter or spring,
Remember that we are but hay in this wind.
No, defeat is not a way of mine,
To battle the odds is my rhyme,
O Lord, be there for me at the right time.

(61) WITH THE AFGHAN GIRL-II

I went to the house of the Afghan girl,
The girl who sells burgers and tea,
Beyond the roads, was a thatched hut,
Beyond posh villas, near the sea.
She welcomed me to her humble home,
Where a frail woman wished me peace,
She was her mother, and her father,
The crippled soul - he was swapping fleas.
There was warmth inside that shanty hut,
The little one rushed with a cup of tea,
Her old man called me beside his bed,
And asked about me and my family.
Then he asked about his land,
The land he was born - Afghanistan,
He was surprised to hear about refugees,
Still pouring into Pakistan.
Well sir, the weak, old soul told me,
You see how we are all carrying on,
If it's God's Will, it will be done,
Why should I curse humanity?

(62) WITH THE AFGHAN GIRL-III

I met the Afghan girl once more --
Who used to sell burgers and tea --
She had grown up...five years on,
Since I met her last in Murree.
She had an air of poise and grace,
With a shawl wrapped around for warmth,
Looking at me her sad face smiled,
And her speed slackened its pace...
"Salaam Saab Jee!* Where have you been?"
She asked while greeting me,
And ere I could say a word,
Looked up at the heavens, then me.
I was at a loss to say anything,
Her spontaneity baffled me,
She was questioning both me and God,
What her grim future would be.
"I hope you are doing well", she said,
"As for me, the going has been tough,
My homeland turned into a barren waste,
And Kandhaar's famous pommes* waylaid."
"See there sir, I do hope you see,
What the years to me have brought,
The hut down below where I lived,
Is not there, nor my family."
"In the name of terror the aliens came,
And bulldozed everything I had,
They took my loved ones away from me,
And left, without remorse or shame."
"What is terror sir?" The lass asked,
"And what is this war on terror?
Do tell me again for I long to know,
The crimes for which we are being tasked."
It was painful to watch the young maiden,
Looking at me, and the hills beyond,
And the questions to which she sought answers,
Were like thunderbolts striking from heaven.
I tried my best to explain to her,
All that she longed to know,
Taking care not to hurt her feelings,
In my own way did I try to convince her...
But she laughed and laughed after hearing me,
Like something inside had been set free,
Then she stared at me with a wounded gaze -
- A soul tormented by a memory...
Without her flask of tea and muffins,
She looked forlorn and betrayed,
I tried to avoid further questions,
But she kept asking, with a childish grin...
"I have a small radio sir", she said,
"I am better aware of the world now,
Thanks for trying to convince me,
But the warmongers shed our blood and fled..."
"They have made thousands like me homeless,
By driving us away from our native land,
They have destroyed lands and the peace around,
And still contend they are blameless..."
"I sell some soup and dry fruits here,
Cannot offer you a cup of tea,
In the night I work at a house,
Where an old widow lives on in fear."
With modest grace wrapped all around,
The young one bade me sit and gave,
Some pistachios and some peanuts,
And sat some feet away, on the ground...
Though Time had made her young and bold,
Her feminine beauty was not wild,
Her rustic charm and her free bearing,
Were untainted -- not vain nor cold.
I pondered for a while on Fate,
How it changes everything,
How the quill used by an unseen hand,
Rewrites Man's every crime.
With nobody to support her,
How this brave one was tackling life,
How many more beyond my sight,
Had become victims of war and strife.
As if to shake me back to earth,
She stood up and smiled again,
It was plain - her countenance showed:
That she had made a pact with pain.
"Soon, Saab Jee," she said, "One day,
God will bless us all once more,
I have full faith in my Lord above,
That my people too will have their way..."

*Saab Jee: Urdu/Hindi for Sir. *Pommes: Pomegranates, for which Kandhaar, in Afghanistan, is famous. Composed on August 30, 2007...

(63) KASHMIR: THE WAILING VALE

My wounds bleed, there's no end to pain,
All peace efforts wither in vain.
Fifty years and more, all I have seen,
Is blood being spilled on my wailing green.
The world just waits, it waits and waits,
As if mocking me at my ignored fate:
While mothers suffer, while sisters cry,
While fathers bury the sons who die...
There is no place, where I can seek
Justice; for me, very few speak.
I am Kashmir, the heaven on earth,
Will someone stop this violent mirth?
These bomb-blasts that ruin my hopes,
These guns that boom on mountain slopes.
I cry and cry out, for my freedom,
Seeking an end to persecution.
Will the world unite and take action,
Against blatant aggression?

(64) IN SKY’S CARESS-II

Yet one more day,
In this dreaded city:
The ghosts of night,
Have melted away,
The villains of daytime,
Have sprung back to life;
I and my grieving heart,
Seek refuge once more,
Away from all,
In a secluded corner -
- My own quiet world.
Cigarette after cigarette,
Absorbs my hidden pain,
Puff after puff,
Soothes me like rain -
Falling gently on parched land.
The woman in the TV,
Tries to cheer me up,
With her wide wide smiles,
In the Breakfast Show,
With her cajoling guiles.
All night long,
I kept on searching,
Kept seeking everywhere,
Peace, solace and joy,
But it was all in vain.
Even after sixty years,
This city has no light,
But the Breakfast Show woman,
Says life is bright!
Vain discourses,
Over trivial matters,
May interest the fools,
Who love wasting time,
I draw the curtains,
And hum Au Sangwyne.
Let them go to hell -
- That's where they are going,
Why fret or pine!
Let me fly upwards,
Where no fool can find me,
Higher and higher,
In sky's caress*.

* In Sky’s Caress is a thought in a poem by Deborah Russell. The poem is in my first book “Unheard Melodies”.


(65) IN THE BEAUTY OF YOUR HUE

A collaboration with Deborah Russell
(Emmenay begins stanzas and Deborah Russell responds:

Emmenay
You and I, let us seek fresh solitude,
Where there is no rush, where there's no dead wood,
Where you and I can see all the way we want to,
Where just talking gives peace and harmonises the mood.

Deborah
Let us seek the warmth of sun and smell the light of each day new,
And confirm the beauty and grace of trees against the skies.

Emmenay
Let me see you happy and carefree,
Laughing joyfully at the surrounding beauty,
Where your eyes reveal the secrets of your soul,
And time loses its meaning and we feel eternity.

Deborah
In the deep silence of understanding and earth's unity,
We continue to seek only nature's harmony,
Where souls weave in song's sweet brevity.

Emmenay
The music of silence being felt by us both,
The raptures of harmony all encompassing,
The understanding that can only be felt by our hearts,
The solace that only wisdom will unravel as a whole.

Deborah
We cast troubles in the deep blue of the sea,
And leave worldly sorrows to set our hearts free.

Emmenay
I will watch you as you paint a world with your words,
Inspiring me to join in and share everything anew,
The strains and stress of a sorrow-filled world,
Drowning themselves in the beauty of your hue.

Deborah
And even the trees give ear to your song,
A psalm of kindness that undoes each wrong.

Emmenay
The song that you and the birds will sing,
Will be refreshing to the soul as a life-giving spring,
Taking the mind to heights always dreamt of,
Fine tuning the melodies on happiness' wings.

Deborah
A stream of clear notes that washes the soul and heart,
That cleanses the dark of eyes and makes a new start.

Emmenay
Come let us away to the place of the true,
And let us find what we always sought.....I and you.

(66) ON THE NEW WORLD ORDER

All the world's 'great' forces
Are up against Man,
To destroy innocent people,
In all the ways they can.
The big ones create 'heroes';
And let them on the loose,
When the 'heroes' defy the big ones,
They join to tighten the noose.
The rule of might prevails,
The meek are forced to obey,
Those who dare to differ,
Are removed out of the way.
Might is the New World Order,
As always the monarchs are out,
To create chaos, disorder,
And stifle the cries that shout.
The cries that demand justice,
The sighs that seek their rights,
Are heard by few, like me,
And one day -- We shall conquer.

(67) TANGY LEMONADE

A tangy glass of lemonade:
It stirs up a memory,
Of a midnight bus journey,
From Madras to Trichy.
Chilled lemon tastes cool,
On a humid summer's night,
Let me not rekindle,
The flames that have died.
Tonight I may go,
And sit on the beach,
And talk to the dim moon,
Of how the ebb would flow.
And while the waves lap,
The stretching sandy shore,
I may lie quietly,
And think I am no more.

(67) SADNESS

(A collaboration with two poets)

Emmenay:
Sadness:
days of sadness!
Days of sadness?
Days of sadness -
Oh yes,
my days of sadness,
you bless...
I am not anyone's
Nor anyone mine,
Now,
there's no h
no hope...
All dark,
in my sadness.
How I laugh,
Yes, how I laugh,
See, how I laugh,
So tuned,
to my sadness...
Sadness:
Sadness -
You bless,
all my time of sadness.

Poeticpiers:

Choose not sadness as your raiment
The time of mourning is long past
Time to wear a brighter garment
look to the future not the past.
For every thing there is a season
New love needs to find a reason
To come and visit you.


'Redstormy':

There is a time to mourn..hoping your weeping will not last too long.

Poeticpiers