Sunday 27 November 2011

THOSE CHILDHOOD HOURS



Sorrowful tears linger as i think of those days

Flashes of fear arises as death draws nigh
I try to cast aside those incidents
Yet it clings at heart as an accident.


I recall when i fell short of things off and on
To get a coin, it was so hard
Then i felt irate for it was not enough
Perhaps I had never grasped their mess.


It was a ritual in juicy season
Lads yearn for flowers to sprout
Restlessly plucking those strawberries and haws
We vied who could collect more.


Then those school hours
And I remember no good little captains
Children they cowed at leisure
It seemed naught could alter their disposition.


Every so often I got school late
Then with my friends
We had lunch in the way
And began our boundless mischief.


On the way home walnut play was our best loved
Children they stone at anything they come across
And we fought over small matters
Possibly I was one among them who did no good.


Saturday was our running day
Yet a joyful day which I often wish
Sent home early we relished in the jungle
We either chased birds or collected mushrooms.


At one time with my pal I enjoyed the chat
How we had a great time together
Talking what is afore us-the thrill and the misery
And we dreamed of good wife and life.


Now I bid farewell to those childhood days
Days forever gone, memory intact in my heart
Feeling gushes down, not a minute peace
Our existence is just a mixture of joys and sorrows.

By Ngajay Tshering.Photo source:google

LAST HOURS


Sunday, 13 November 2011






Vowed all vows forgotten
Your heart sits strongly against me
Not as your laughter
Chuckled down the clear vale stream
The merest joys are gone waving farewell
My dear, my heart is too deep to heal
As everything is dripping away sadly,
Let me tell what I have to tell-a word of love
Kindly let me shake hands with you,
Not out of jealousy, but to touch your
melting hands
Before shadows hold you back
At least to sow some hopes
And turn back to me at last-
Only to be my illusion and delusion.




photo credit-google

GRASS HAS A VOICE






I lie flat on the ground
To sun myself in quest for words on nature
From a side I am surprised
For boldly here a strand of grass grows
Bewitched by a strand of grass
To look it is as firm as sword
To touch it is as soft as fair ladies
Glittering in the sun
It speaks much of the unknown-
Cruelty of human on nature:
A school boy spits on it
Washes his unpolished shoes over
Where dews hangs losely
Words and wonders fill my leaves
So I vow to carry its words
To my fellow school friends
Who dont know
I make friend with grass
There it lies happily for whole days
Even grass has a voice
Save, my friends, but my green friends.

Photo credit: google image