The Making of a Winner

Life tests ruthlessly
The fire engulfs
There’s no way out
But through it.

“Bear it!” He says
The words ring in my ears
How cruel I think
Where’s His love I wonder.

Am I His bonfire?
A joke to laugh at?
A puppet to play with,
A toy thrown asunder? Nay I’m not
It’s the test of fire
The chisel’s at work
Something transpires.

A work of art
With the sheen of gold
Dazzling and wondrous
In time we’ll behold.

It’s not without reason
There is a plan that guides
Each step is vital
Every jolt required.

The making of a winner
Is no mean task
The Maker labours
Painstakingly with love.

Grin and bear it
Smile your way through
Dance in the storm
Await the sun to shine through.

“This too shall pass”
He reminds me again
The rainbow will appear
The skies will glow again.

“Look ahead and up
Keep walking the path
The goal is worth it
Don’t you give up!”

Watch the waves
They never fail to rise
After every fall
Higher they climb.

The fire will subside
And having stood your ground
From the ashes you’ll emerge
As a winner so strong.

- Rukma

Blue

Blue, blue, blue
Vast, infinite, mesmerising
No beginning, no end
Here, there and everywhere.
All embracing, all encompassing
Ever so inviting, deliciously cool.
Love pours forth in every way
Drenched in his love, I swoon, I sway
The smile on my face, gives me away.
Shades of blue, dark and bright
Lighter, at times almost white
So inviting, I cannot fight.
I soar up high, oh so high
Lighter than cotton, no effort required.
To merge and be one is my heart’s desire.

The twinkling eyes, the dazzling smile
Features so fine, face shining bright
The curls dance framing the face
Long shapely fingers beckon me ahead.
The swish of the silk, the gurgling laugh
Silent footsteps falling so soft.
Lost in the moment, no mind to confuse
One single thought, “It is you.”
A long wait, painful and tough
Shedding tears, yearning for your touch
Worth it after all, for you have come
To take me along...
Where no more will there be a you and I.
Just blue, blue, blue… vast, infinite.

- Rukma

Reality Strikes

Golden skin, deep dark eyes like limpid pools
Ebony strands bouncing with grace
The features symmetrical and shapely too.

Sweet music emanates, she twirls to the tunes
Laughter gurgles like a brook over stones
The elegance and charm makes many a swoon.

Where from art thou, what bringest you here
Thy shadow is poise entwined with grace.
Many were keen to know her sweet name.

The days went past and nights flew by
The smiles got brighter and laughter more loud
The more they learned the more inquisitive they grew.

The damsel had a lot to say, they remained immersed in her tête-à-tête
Her talks began with her eyes as they sparkled and glowed
Time flew by and not one noticed, not at all.

All was fine, life a reverie
The damsels company everyone wanted to keep
Nothing else mattered, she was such a treat.

This too shall pass the wise believed
The hold wouldn’t last, the façade she couldn’t keep
And true to their words, the storm strung a beat.

The rains came lashing, lightning crashed in the seas
Thunder shattered the trance they were in.
The reality would soon be revealed.

She ran for cover, hands covering her face
One hand over her head, seeking shelter from the rain
The thunder and lighting had her covering in dread.

This too shall pass she thought to herself
The squall may cease in time she prayed
But the Gods didn’t seem to heed her feeble requests.

Window panes crashed, trees swooned and swayed
People ran amuck anxious and scared
The end is near she heard them say.

The wise were right, the storm did pass
The sun peeped over the horizon shedding golden light
Calm began to return to the noisy countryside.

She gathered her guts to stand up tall
The music was playing ere very soft
The admirers again began to surround her.

Horror was writ large on their faces
She realised as she looked each way
Mouth agape they stared in dismay.

Haltingly she moved her fingers over her face
Alas! The storm had destroyed more than nature’s terrain.
The mask she wore had given way.

Gone was the smile, the sparkle in the eyes
The laughter was lost and ebony had turned white.
The dress was tattered and she looked a sight!

The crowd dwindled from many to none
Not a soul was willing to see the real one
The façade had fallen, gone was the fun.

- Rukma