Reaching out with verse

Hello again people! Why, on earth, was winter created ? And they talk of global warming !!! But in spite of that, there's no denying that winter mornings are the best excuse to run away from the busy world into a bit of verse. Nowadays I hardly get time to write poetry.....about 3-4 years back I used to write more frequently....and I miss it quite a bit! Verse is such a beautiful addiction to have(even if you are just a versifier like me)! I still remember the first poem to make a significant impact on me while in school.....it was "On his Blindness" by Milton...I loved his embrace of hope and faith in his hour of "darkness". Who's your favorite poet?

Speaking of hope, there is perhaps one place on earth which needs all our hope and prayers at this moment......Haiti, as you all know, had been struck by probably the worst earthquake ever in history, with almost no prior warning at all! I was going through some news reports.....such a beautiful country hit with such ferocity and shock! The poor island was transformed overnight from a peaceful caribbean tourist hub to a mammoth humanitarian crisis with over 50000 lives lost !

I wrote the following poem a long time back, but am rewriting it here as a small gesture towards the affected people of Haiti, who fight their loss and pain in this moment of crisis. This is a compassionate message of strength and love in celebration of humanity......it's called SILENT HARMONY.

Silent Harmony

The show had finished an hour ago,
And the harmony faded into the dark,
Shadows have peopled the empty hall
As is winter embraced by an aging lark....

Their music had ceased long before,
Loud cheers are not heard anymore,
Reverent whispers have died away
And they bid adieu for the day.

A sudden note! The breeze lights up!
The cobbler's child at his broken flute -
His broken notes grace the dark,
This touch of freedom warms the lark .... the aging lark!

The boy plays through the frozen night
And smiles at the crowd in brazen joy -
Accolades and praises deafen his soul
Until the orphan can take no more ....

Lowering his flute he screens the hall,
His restless eyes in search of a face -
The face of his mother shining still
Amidst the gloom of the balcony.

Tears pour down as the music plays on
Deep down in the bottom of his heart,
He closes his eyes and takes a bow -
The shadows leave the balcony.

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