Be The Sunrise In Someone’s Life

(taken from my gift collection)

I know how sometimes she seeks out the Sunrise,

It does show itself to the world every morning, and then disappears when it has lighted up the whole world.

Once, a long time ago,

She sat watching the silent tide wash ashore.

Every time it rushed towards the waiting sands, it brought forth pretty bubbles,

To decorate the hems of those sands.

She waited for Sunrise,

It did rise to rake in her tide,

Her tide of happiness,

Amidst the chaos of the ravages on her mind, body and soul.

She walks away into the mist,

Maybe waking God or even an angel in her midst,”Why is the Sunrise not in my heart? For my weary soul is heavy with assault!”

The Sunrise remains as her salvation,

The colors are loaned to color her world,

She waits to be free like the tides of the sea.

She walks away, with hope resurrected.

All Rights Reserved. Copyright@shobana2019

I Picked A White Rose For You.

I picked a White Rose for you,

Only because you add all the colors to my life,

Just as you rise at dawn, when you awaken day,

You wake me up with the innocence of your smile.

Someday when I’m gone from this world,

This world that had denied me the colors of my life,

I want you to know, that I had you with me,

To exonerate those dark days away.

And know that,

Not all the days that I lived,

Did I forsake the thought of you,

Not once, did I erase you from my mind.

From dawn to dusk,

You entertained my thoughts,

You were the inspiration I seeked,

Purity did you breed.

I saw in you the beauty that thrived.

It is a beauty unsurpassed,

It is a beauty unforeseen,

It lies within the harbour of good intentions,

And flourishes in the aftermath of revelation.

-shobana- All rights reserved. Copyright@shobana2020


Image result for free images of a beautiful argentinanian woman

Argentina, I have heard about you…

You were of days gone old,

Sultry looks, pouty lips, a sculptured face,

Your sensuousness redeemed a nation’s creed.


Argentina, the crops once grew wild,

Where the wars ravaged the gardens that thrived.

I often thought about the way,

the Americas shook with rage,

At the wickedness that besieged the devout.

Everywhere there were the tireless boredom of cold,

Did you see that,

Men were christened with blood swords,

Women, endowed with beauty bore crowns.

You remain steeped in thought,

Thinking, mastering plans anew,

I know Argentina, you, the simplest yet astounding,

You, the gentlest, yet – you will what is to come.


Argentina, I have heard of you,

Your steps are scattered like seed.

(I wrote this poem sometime back, I hope you enjoy it)


All rights reserved. Copyright@shobana2020

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