Monday, April 4, 2011


Inspired by TS Eliot's Poem 'The Wasteland'.
The first line courtesy to Mr TS Eliot-from 'The Burial of The Dead'

April is the cruelest month, 
bare branches
Sprouting tiny greens,

life bursting from the lifeless,A rising,
mixing sorrow of defeat with defiance,
Spring rain drizzles consistently,

snow suddenly surprised us
We stopped in the plains,
leaving the mountains’
Went in half daylight so we should have
Known the path,
and the unknown traversed rarely,
So we should have known the faith,
and the faithful and the Emperors of Icecreams-
Not long ago, when I was a child,
was carried across borders
   frightened, slept in a
        camp for two nights,
-wonder how Mother felt? She never spoke
About those days, then on we
came to Murree Hills, 
and felt free
And I knew not, was I taking refuge or was it a
New land?
What was left in enemy hands, where
Are the roots that make a family?
Out of the masses who survived who committed
Suicide-you cannot say or guess even for you
Have seen only images and heard only broken voices
Who lost half the thought in trying to forget
Spoke not all-scenes of horror
Heaps of bodies cut and slayed
Blood splattered on trains roads and fields
Death, for a   cause?  
Yet not Jehad or was it?
Many went South, separated, lost, confused-
All said ‘we shall go back, one day’
The Day never came-
And then the beginning of the end-
One by one
Who has seen Spring again, after the Fall
Providence persists prevails
Acceptance and non-acceptance is, what ails
Unreal cities, unreal people, so unlike what
Was expected-
War War War and again War-

When will it end, Terror strikes within
Shelter is scarce, fashion abounds and all
Is a show off! Young dead glorified
on the mini screen, what are they dying for
now? Half the barren land, minerals in ranges
The enemy changed and we thought ’this is Right-
People crowd the roads , daily beggars  are children
And who said ‘we shall have enough, and peace”

Mountains and Rocks           
Mountains are dangerous, 
no rocks will give
Shelter, there is no water, nor wells
A waste it becomes, filth in the drains overflowing
And  the big man’ said’ we have worked hard’
But the mountains will not protect,
Truth is linked , Faith is strong
It will not be long when the Shadow
Will turn to Light and the darkness will go-
Go in the shadow of the mountain
Sit by the stream and clean all
The mind and soul,
wash away to the sea Impurity,
or else  be prepared to face,
a tsunami, or the jolts and shakes
Teresias, sat silently,
there is still a chance-look!
Be the Dance
not the dancer,         

in the circle of life
Come to a still point with Nature
Where nothing matters anymore-
Think and feel, help and heal, the needy
Feed the hungry, for I can see-there comes
Someone-keeps close and watches , ever present
Who leads us on unseen and the Third we say
Who helped us –its not our doing but The Mercy Of The Merciful-
Bow bow bow –pray pray pray
Welcome love from above , eternal peace will stay


  1. What is fascinating about this poem is the number of questions raised, each a possible poem on its own. So many things to write about. Are you doing the inkseeds group poem a day? If not I will send you the prompt for yesterday which revolved around home. I think it will interest you.

  2. This piece is exactly as is should be. The layering like a collage-give me the feeling of wandering through a waste land...but with a a wise guide-

    AND now I look back at your original post and see you began with saying that your poem was inspired by TS Eliot----oh dear... then I would say you succeeded did a perfect job! "The darkness will go in the shadow of the mountain." wow--peace and blessings --teri