That Golden Girl…

sue-vincent-prompt

 

That Golden Girl…

In a crystal clear pond full of ducks, there once lived a golden swan. The pond was called Paani, and Goldie was the name of the swan. The names were of course given by some human mind.

Born so different, Goldie was the only one of her kind. Envied by fellow females. Chased by fellow nasty males. Towards her, not many were kind.

Humans would take her pictures. But some would also pelt her with stones, to see how she reacted when in pain. But she never whined.

She avoided them all. She stayed to herself. But soon lonesome became her ride. Paying the price of being different, she could never find a mate. No family. No baby cygnets. No tribe.

One day she decided to paddle on to another pond, all in her desperate attempt to find another one of her kind. But there was none. Never was.

….

For the inmates of the new pond were no different. There were no golden ducks in the new pond, only those who were either black or white. They too could not bear Goldie’s deviance, golden and bright.

They isolated her. They accused her of stealing their share of food. For days she got nothing to eat. She felt like an alien. Like a fish out of her pond. Which of course she anyway was.

She left that pond too. Soon she lost her way. Thereafter no one ever saw her again.

The guys back at Paani, were full of remorse. For they had lost their golden girl, due to their own narrow mean mind.

They could clearly see now their Goldie was rather a class apart. She deserved to be Paani’s pride. She was the only one of her kind.

….

Long time has lapsed since Goldie has been gone. There are rumors around Paani, that every night a golden duck can be seen around.

Not seen by everyone though. Can be seen only by the fortunate few. In fact only by the unfortunate lonesome few. The wronged, the forbidden and the hidden, who dare to venture out only at night.

Seeing Goldie is indeed a sight! Quacking. Gliding. Paddling. All by herself. When the whole world sleeps, when no one would see her or judge her, she comes out from nowhere to have a good time.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Today, the above photo, that I must have seen while scrolling down the Reader, came into my mind from nowhere. The above weird tale built on…though I absolutely forgot where I had seen this picture.
Of course l discovered just in time, that it was #writephoto prompt by Sue Vincent and I could use it here. Thanks Sue for igniting this strange poetic-story!

Stranded No More…

dark-clouds-sunburst-writephoto.png

Stranded No More…

When seclusion callously corrodes
Every inch of your fine being
When it’s all dark and dreary
And your heart is tired and weary
Your eyes too solemn and teary.

Then lose no heart, O comrade!
The gloom will soon evaporate
The beaming rays will finally break
Through the engulfing black clouds
Compelling them to dissipate

Hang in there some more time!
For soon time will turn around
Get ready to smile and welcome
The crystal clear blue skies and
Golden happiness all around

© 2016 Alka Girdhar

~~~ ~~~

In response to #writephoto Photo Prompt ‘Isolation’ by Sue Vincent..

A Writer’s Heart…

Featured

 

sue-vincent-chest

A Writer’s Heart

Choked with endless jumbled thoughts
This heart, ancient and weary
Like some stored chest of treasures
Somewhat worn, beyond its prime
Yet not worn out and passe.

Carries a lot of weight, of 
Experiences and wisdom galore
Hidden in its pit, secret stories
Of precious moments gone by
Either well-lived or idly whiled
Joys achieved, some denied

Overloaded and bursting now
The crammed chest of heart
Must now be unlocked, with
Magical keys of words, words 
And yet more words

A writer’s heart is indeed
A valuable treasure box
Unlatch its rusty door
Let the lock stifle it no more 
Let the inner voice flow out, to
Set free the riotous thoughts

© 2016 Alka Girdhar

~~~ ~~~

That was my response to this week’s photo prompt for Sue Vincent’s writephoto:

“A battered, iron-bound chest…Where did it come from? What does it hold…why does it need three keys to unlock its secrets…and where are they now?”

Being One With Him

Featured

tree

 

Being One With Him

Ask her. How does it feel to be one with him?
She will have no clue. For she is now a part of him. She is him.

It’s as if they aren’t two souls, but one.
They even look like one, well if you see from the distance
Their cells have long lost their own growth
Blended into each other
They’ve found a newer meaning in this union

But it wasn’t always so…
She started out differently
So dissimilar, so distant they were
But it happened
This unison – where the lost soul merged into The One.

When a small soul meets that bigger soul, then that is what happens
Losing itself – a creeper becomes a tree; a river becomes a sea
That higher soul so pure and benign; habitually embraces tainted souls
Unenlightened souls of mere mortals
Souls that have lost all hope

Many such souls have sought and got
And many more, seeking more and more
One day
They all will find Him
And merge into Him

© 2016 Alka Girdhar

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

My above prosaic poem was inspired by the tree Thursday photo prompt hosted by Sue Vincent of The Daily Echo.

‘She’ is our human soul…losing herself in her beloved or in God.

If you liked this tree inspired poem, then here’s another similar poem You Lose and then You Win. I’m sure you will like it.