"The hardest of all is learning to be a well of affection,and not fountain,to show them that we love them,not when we feel like it,but when they do"

Thursday, December 16, 2010

In the Magical Island


She lies here in the island of her magic,
staring at the solitary being above.
No stars today to illuminate the surround,
no fireflies dancing about.
The trees have been smitten by cold,
bare their branches hang in hope,
hope for the spring,
hope for the flowers,
hope for everything to become normal.
It can’t be so till the west wind plays,
the game that is started,
till it sees the finish line engraved.
Now it is winter,
and today is the present,
she muses to herself.
Making a shape in the air,
she has lost someone who meant so much,
she has hurt herself now so much.
Not to touch the trees with her magical light,
glooming the surround.
Aren’t happy the stars know her,
chose to be in shelter,
of the black clouds dispersed.
she sighs, a drop of tear falls;
she is lonely without the feel;
feel she has been engulfing,
for so long it seems disappeared.
Tattered are her hopes.
Shattered are the mirrors of dream.
Clinging to the moment,
she curls up in deep.


A warmth is spread with that curl,
she checks in her heart;
and smiles out of belief.
The presence of feel,
has shifted its place.
She waves her magic wand,
blessings innumerous pour out,
the trees dance together,
the stars steer off the clouds,
the gloomy moon,
shines outright,
Merriment song the birds chirrup,
no matter it’s the night above.
She prances in joy the whole island.
Fireflies gift her with a jeweled tiara.
Kissing her heart,
she rejoices in the wonder.

4 comments:

P-Kay said...

What to say :)
My ship have lost direction in the middle sea,
There is no one here to hear my plea,
My emotions are wandering in its wild spree,
Is there anyone to guide me towards that tree ?

Can u give me the direction of this Island...i think she is waiting for me :))))))..Beautifull one. Bravo :)

Blasphemous Aesthete said...

Let there be light!

Beautiful post. How gradually she surrenders and how quickly she clings on to the flickering moment of hope. There is magic within her, for that she has known.

Nice reads. Keep up the positivity.

feel like sharing this Wordsworth masterpiece...
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.


Cheers,
Blasphemous Aesthete

Alcina said...

@P-Kay..

Lol..Wait here she might tell you :P

You said so much and still asking me what to say :P

Nice poetry ;)

Alcina said...

@ Blasphemous Aesthete

You decorate my posts with your word always :)

And each poem that you put up is just wow..

Thank you :)