Poetry

AFP photo

By

Alok Mishra

O My Sun

Rippling water of the river,

Dazzling with your

Thousands of rays,

Coming from your gracious heart,

Dances in ecstasy.

The autumn clouds find their grace

From the soft touch

Of your golden beautiful limbs;

Now they have a divine recognition,

Never to fade.

The glassy bank of charming river,

Once gloomy for barrenness,

Now has a number of shining clouds as comrades,

Greeting no difference between earth and firmament.

Every branch of pine

Sways in joy as an elegant blonde,

Getting an exclusive gift from her evergreen lover

Makes delight

Spreading her gold-like arms

In the sweet smelling air.

The gilded boats are waiting

For my coming,

And ready to bring me to your tender heart.

Keep on enlightening my path

That I may reach dauntlessly to you,

O my sun!

O White Moon

O white moon

Give me some whiteness,

Black clouds surround me.

I cannot see your beauty,

But it is my firm belief

That behind these clouds

You are present.

My tears are not obeying their master

And coming out of their caves.

These tears are testimony

Of my true love for you.

When will the day come

When your sparkling rays touch my trembling heart?

When will your mercy shower

Fall upon my immortal point?

When will your white face

Be before my black eyes?

When will your innumerable ministers

Decide my doings?

O LORD!

You are my king,

But what an unfortunate creature I am

That I am blind to you.

Alok Mishra

Born in India in 1981, Alok Mishra is a writer by passion. He is a teacher by profession. He has had a keen interest in writing poems since a very young age. His poems have been published in various journals and websites with writers around the world. He has won several awards for his poems. He loves to write spiritual and romantic poems.