Song for the Mermen

He lights his pipe as they gather round,
Children with hopeful, eager faces
Longing for the old man’s tales
Of myths and legends from forgotten places

A fisherman, was I he said,
A poor but honest living,
Out to sea from early morn’
To catch what the Lord was giving

One day the waters rough they be,
The wind all round was raging,
A war beneath the blue green tide,
The mermaid folk were waging

The waters rose like savage hands,
That tore me from my boat,
A fight I had against nature’s wrath
To try and stay afloat

I saw him then, upon the wave’s crest
Clad in princely attire,
Half man, half fish with a mane of red,
Blazing like a fire

He took me then to his abode
A secret cavern deep,
A place of blue green mystic pools,
Where fairy maids did sleep

I stumbled round in my haze of doubt,
And asked if this was real,
"Wake not the maids," was his reply
"For they might your shadow steal."

Great merman! I said to him,
What is to become of me?
For all that I lived by in this world
Now lies beneath the sea.

"A boon I will grant you"
He said at length
"A gift of knowledge and of wealth,
But this does not come for free,
A price you must pay to me."

"My race is old," he went on to say
"Twilight dawns on our day.
And unlike my kin of the land,
Papa Bois and Mama Dglo,
Not much of us does your race know."

"Make a song to tell our tale,
Be my bard, in this, don’t fail
And life and fortune will be your prize
Through your tales my race won’t die."

So he gave to me these gifts,
Eloquence and grace of tongue
So to you this tale I sung.
Now to sleep you must go, and
in dreamland play
To dream of those oceans deep,
where the mermen stay.

©2010 by Geeta Boodansingh

Eternity

We stood it seemed forever,
Under ebony skies,
The sea, like black glass beneath us
Reaching out endlessly for miles.
Wrapped in darkness,
Infinity engulfing us in a place
Where time slowed,
And eternity was born on moments
where time could be counted by the beating of hearts,
And I listened to the sound, sweet music long denied me
Carried by its echoes, floating as though on that open sea
Trusting what I dared not trust before,
The skeptic silenced by a faith I never knew I had,
And reservations were laid aside.
In that moment I could see the world through your eyes,
A place of limitless beauty and wonder,
For one moment it seemed I could touch heaven,
Glimpse it secrets, feel its serenity.
For one moment the world was perfect,
And I was free.

Things change,
Fall apart or hold.
The season turns,
A new wind blows

Is it the mournful chill of a harsh winter?
Or the zephyr of a new spring?
Only time will tell.
But both are needed,
For through the bitterness of loss,
The triumph of joy is made sweeter still.

Things change,
As people do.
Friends come and go
But they leave their impressions

Like footprints in sand,
Washed away, but that shore shall never be the same.
Touched by, as it touches back countless lives.

Things change,
For that is life,
And life is growth,
A metamorphosis
Of mind, body and soul.
Fleeting, like the emotions that it brings
Undulating, like the wave of that eternal sea

Things change,
A new sun rises,
A reminder that nothing that dies is lost forever.
The season turns,
And I welcome the new wind that blows.

Twilight musing

I lay there gazing through windows of time,
and caught but a glimpse of the great divine.
Visions of light that swirled round and round,
Spirals of worlds, cosmic merry go rounds.

All connected through time and space,
across vast distances, to a far away place.
And in this place of dark and light,
where I lay humbled before the night,

I heard but an echo of eternity's truth,
spoken to me in my twilight youth:
Alone we are not at all,
Nor insignificant, though we feel small.

All are connected in a cosmic circle,
The ties of which are unbreakable.
Like distant stars, points of light,
which all add beauty to the night.
So too are we, cherished and loved,
rellecting beauty and divinity from above.

A Warrior's March.

Unfurl the banners, let them fly,
Sound the trumpets in the morning sky,
At dawn's first light come marching in,
A human sea,
A silver din,
Raise the standards,
Raise the cry,
Swords ring out: victory's nigh,
Drums a thunder, a warrior's march,
Arrows a flying, a burning arch,
Come ye brave ones who dare to taste,
The heat of battle,
Towards glory with haste,
Onward march, hearts a pounding,
Like horse's hooves on the earth a sounding,
Mail a glinting,
Steel a singing,
Herald triumph in hearts a ringing,
So unfurl the banners and let them fly,
To live in glory and in honour die.

©2006 by Geeta Boodansingh

Lament for Frankenstein

Thou art a wretched soul,
Not an image of thy creator,
But a mockery,
Twisted shadow of his thought:
A testimony to his arrogance

Thou art a lonely soul,
Abandoned, orphaned by a father
Who feared rather than loved thee,
Offspring of his unholy desire to birth
That which was never meant to be

Thou art a creature despised,
Scorned by their vanity,
Judged by their piety,
Imposters that hate thee,
For thou art the mirror of their blackened souls

Thou art a monster,
Made not by their hands,
but by their words, their deeds
When done they look upon your countenance,
and turn away, revolted, horrified

Renounce thee they do,
Renounce responsibility for an evil of their making.
So, lament Frankenstein
For you are not the last of your kind

The race of man breeds monsters
And understands not ,
That evil exists,
Not by birth, but by consequence

Lament Frankenstein
For others will follow your path to hell
long after you are gone.

Life

Life will break you.
This wicked thing,
Fooled you in your innocent years,
Built you up and then, without warning
Stripped you naked,
Humiliated you,
Deemed you unworthy,
An existence brought to nothingness

Life is two faced,
Hiding black lies beneath radiant smiles.
Dichotomous:

Delicate and lovely one moment, a fragile
thing spun of gossamer thread.
It winks and waves, beacons you close,
But reach out and touch it, it is gone, destroyed.

Savage and cruel the next
Like stone,
Cold, hard, unfeeling
Offering solace only in its firmness, its constance.
A sick pleasure you derive in knowing that it's real,
and through your pain so are you.

Life taunts you:
A tease with her chiffon veils,
Allowing glimpses of forbidden happiness,
and promises never meant to be fulfilled.
And you long for these promises, to drink the
sweet nectar of the Gods.

Like greedy children, you grasp and grab at it
But your cup shall not runeth over.
Instead it will slip though fingers that try to contain it,
to imprison it, to make it yours forever

But forever was never yours,
Instead, life consummated your virgin existence with
grief and loss,
Demanding that you bow down in reverence, nay, deference
before it.
Empty you are,
Torn,
Broken.

But somewhere as you lie in pieces,
You begin to understand,
That beauty is not birthed without pain,
That life is not perfect,
But it was never meant to be so,
You cannot fix it,
But it is not broken,
It just is.

Clairvoyance, comprehension of the beast's nature
was not meant for you.
Even the prophets, the geniuses could only
conceive pieces, that, if fitted together would
only compound the madness!

It was not meant for you to find purity in its'
perversion
It was meant for you to experience and, in so
doing find yourself and your truth.