I Am a Humble Lakeside Flower

Two Poems 

I am no daffodil, I am no rose,

I rouse no poetry, I stir no prose,

I adorn no altar, nor gild a deity,

I bedeck not a girl’s mane pretty,

I am no harbinger of forlorn lover,

I am a humble lakeside flower.

 

I find no space in bouquet or garland,

I bloom and wither on lakeside land,

I live short, modest and alone,

I am unsung when I am gone,

I have but the sky as my bower,

I am a humble lakeside flower.

 

I am no theme for nature-loving poet,

I have no green garden plots to covet,

I am no pretty flower of rose or cedar,

I don’t get saved in the diary of a lover,

I have none who does affection shower,

I am a humble lakeside flower.

 

I blossom, I prance on lakeside ground,

I wither, I wilt, I drop with no sound,

I come, I dance in the wind that swept,

I go unsung, unhonoured and unwept,

I am His creation, a minnow, no tower,

I am a humble lakeside flower.

 

**

The Waiting (An ode to the bride of a soldier missing in action)

Small was her village, green was the vale,

Brimming was life with fun, cakes and ale.

Apple of the eye for siblings and parents,

Pranced with pals in brooks’ mild currents.

 

Spring ushered colour and fair of season,

Came with it a man and, for love, reason.

Handsome was the man, tall and strong,

Stood out in a crowd of thousand throng.

 

Eyes met near the merry-go-round fast,

Bouquet of roses he offered her at last.

Talked with the eyes who oozed love,

Lo! Cupid struck and how, by Jove.

 

Heaven blessed them, two became one,

Knots three tied and regaled in union.

Day didn’t dawn, cruel came in message,

Loving words couldn’t her feelings assuage.

 

Country is at war and guns are roaring,

Neighbour recalcitrant, tensions soaring.

Report to duty, leave behind the bride,

Donned were fatigues, boot laces tied.

 

Red paint auspicious, didn’t dry on feet,

Haven’t spoken all night nothings sweet.

Parted with nary a kiss nor a hug tight,

With duffel on back walked into twilight.

 

There goes her love, there goes her life,

To save motherland from neighbour’s strife.

Lo! He went, he fought and he conquered,

Missing in action, never had he returned.

 

Tired were her eyes, bleary was her vision,

Standing in the doorway, longing for his return.

Day turned eve and eve entered night,

Years went by but returned not her knight.

***

by Shyam Sundar Bulusu