Poem — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #98 The woes of self come clustered or alone Like a troop or a loner by honour bound, To hold them in abeyance is our mission Or fall proudly when our limbs are bettered. Oh, but seldom alone come woes of…

Sonnet — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #97 Why dost Thou employ beauty’s rhetoric On my feeble person so easily swayed, Smiling ever so slyly from visage beatific As if luring my errors rise again from dead! Why dost Thou stir my heart’s silent music With human melodies so alive and bold Invading my placid air with passions thick And leaving me in shambles all scattered! Why dost Thou ban all light from my mind stark Like some sky from which all stars have fled, To what purpose does Thou leash me to dark Night where I wander like a wraith unseen, unloved.

Sonnet — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #96 And how, how couldst Thou stand in that throng Released from the dire snare of time and fate, Thy slight meagre frame defying earthly wrong To relay Thy higher self’s word divinely immaculate. To what or whom didst Thou in that interval belong In the pause before Thy lips uttered the high dictate, Wert Thou a sun-baked man or a daemon too strong Calibrating the fiery vigour of Thy force’s might?

Sonnet — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #95 What gluttony is thine O time, Gorging on our hero sons, A hundred hundred lives Whets not thy hungry whim! Dost thou chase every flame Splendid in their fieriness, Consenting to bloody sacrifice, Defiant even on gallow-frame?! Thy deeds like a black hymn, Bleeding faith from hearts, Filling us with excess sorrows, Bespoiling always our fairer dream.

Poem — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #94 By Gangā’s shore rose that spired sight Housed on a plot more humble than proud, At attention’s centre is Her likeness kept A shimmering black and dire blood-red. Sentinels nine guard that blessed site, Donning nine aspects Shiva in trance stood Whilst…

Sonnet — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #93 The night is alive, the night is alive, A dire alarm seizes the senses five, The soul shudders in awed surprise For something in the night now stirs. The night is alive, the night is alive, All turns blue-black to waking eye In a formidable tangle of tresses Older than time and unborn the stars. The night is alive, the night is alive, To wills that strive, an answer doth arrive, A flame-tongue red laps the universe, All is bathed in a glory brutal and fierce.

Sonnet — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #92 How mighty flows this pilgrim river, A rush of seeking hearts traversing Life and fate with just a murmur Of Thy name on their lips repeating. The thumbed beads do witness bear For the wearer’s prowess growing, To battle reason with his will meagre And a faith his life’s price demanding. Thy sigil on forehead’s they bore With a ‘Hail, Hail’ to Thee submitting, In all Thy sanctums they lit a prayer For Thy consideration and perusing.

Sonnet — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #91 A drab dawn unveiled a sleepy azure, Sharp the ruse to keep me unprepared For the hours cacophonous beyond measure, Who knew joy was in such chaos bred?! Many a throng breathed the festive air, Sleepy toddlers and couples enamoured Joining weathered visages with listless stare, All moved as if by the loud noise lured. Duelling drums replied to cymbals sure, A battle of playing limbs almost possessed Wrangled broken rhythms in that furore, Oh how the ear and heart were trampled!

Sonnet — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #90 The bold feminine from the mountain source White and pure, from crescent bearing tresses Leaping earthward like some fluid silver To nourish all men and more who aspire. How stately the winding gait, a moving stillness Like the soul stirless through the many lives, August and noble her ancient composure, A tad tamed perhaps by the long endeavour. The young and the old, the brute and the wise In her equal arms receive maternal embrace, To the seer as inspiration she doth appear With lightning swiftness of knowledge and fire.