Farmer’s Song

The earth longs for the rain, the thundering of the clouds; the freshness in the air, the retreat of the drought… When will this famine leave, when will lives prosper? When will times improve and life be better? For, after the rain, how fresh the air; green grasses effulge everywhere! Drenched fields produce in manifold…

The Wild Woods

Don’t dare to delve so deep, dear child, into the dark woods that you cannot find your way back… The woods are green and glorious, yes, but the woods are grim and ghastly too. The tenacious woods will trap you within themselves, closing in on you, climbing up your very toes, causing you to tumble…

The Wind and the Tree

In the days of old, on an isolated icy mountain, far up the Northern belt of a place that now boasts only of ruins, of debris, of poetry - of the essence of a great love that once existed; a great battle, that once was fought; and the low, pining rustling of the suspicious, secluded,…

The Wilderness

The road was lit in a wild flower frenzy - a fray of ferns wayward and hapless, yellow trees rose in a tumultuous melee with battered rocks fragmented and strewn like shrapnel. Crisp cracks housed the dust in the grey concrete; dry buttresses boasted of mossy branches; browning bushes sneaked up suddenly like bandits, as…

Ishaism – June

The Mountains talk of the world, then shed mighty rivers - reminiscent, reproachful...resigned... © Isha Garg