Dandelions bloom in that clearing,
a sense of gloom and dullness overbearing;
that little girl, she was wearing,
the brightest smile, really endearing.
Beauty and awe, powerful she felt,
at the window pane, longingly she knelt,
As the neighbour's snowmen melt,
Mother and Father with work, they dealt.
Seeing the rain drop is like a treat,
her gramma cooking delicious meat;
Clouds pouring water, ever-so-sweet,
it was like Nature's meet and greet.
Jewels and pearls and crystals and stones,
None compare to the beauty of hailstones,
that lovely feeling when a person owns,
and when they melt away, he moans.
Frogs and peacocks dance gracefully,
our little girl is waiting hopefully;
to go out and play very cheerfully,
and dance out there, very beautifully.
Mother said to her, "You'll catch a cold,
no getting wet, too many times I've told
you to keep calm and gramma's hand to hold,
she'll tell you stories of sailors, skilled and bold!"
Gramma kissed the little one, "Dear,
sit by the fire, warm, patient and near,
I shall tell you of a very brave warrior,
his story is one that you'll never hear...
He lived in a forest and had no friend,
his loneliness and boredom knew no end,
the Gods never seemed to comprehend,
that when sick, he had none to tend.
But one day, his forest was blessed with rain,
It was the end of all his misery and pain,
a little girl, just like you, shouting for help in vain,
reached our man's home terrain.
He found her, fed her and made her smile,
Taking care of all her needs, meanwhile;
Protected her from creatures and men, cruel and vile,
And making every little moment worthwhile.
Then one rainy day, three barbaric men, they came,
He was out to gather firewood for the cave's warm flame,
She was inside, and they invited her to a game,
she couldn't resist the urge, her curiosity was to blame.
They tied her up and beat her face,
It was lined with the worst grimace;
She tried to call Him, but those thieves to her disgrace,
had held her neck tight, choking was a menace.
Our hero, he charged at them with a stalactite,
the icy rain, turned to snow, which does bite
those slave traders, they tried to fight,
but they were nothing in front of His and Nature's might.
The rain poured heavily right after,
it washed the blood, flesh and matter,
the little one was no more in danger,
from any flesh-selling dirty monster.
That rain brought them heaven and joy,
In no time, they shifted to a town nearby,
He bought her many gifts and a big toy,
It looked like a great soldier boy.
We understand that we must learn,
to fight and pack punches in return,
but never let someone suffer and burn,
In the 'hatred and war' cavern."
As our little girl snores, rain lulling her to sleep,
We must take in, these lessons deep.
YOU ARE READING
A Warrior's Songs
Poetry"I believe that Poetry is the aesthetic act; that poetry is not the poem, for the poem may be nothing more than a series of symbols. Poetry, I believe, is the poetic act that takes place when the poet writes it, when the reader reads it, and it alwa...
