Loser’s Defence
Give me thy ensign,
Let me carry it high.
Bestow me with power divine.
O stop the wind and stop the water,
From washing my forehead.
Only you can say so as you are closer.
When I rubbed my forehead on thy scarlet bosom
I got hooked to its intoxicating spirit
It’s opine-like aroma and mushy colon.
It’s not a symbol of remembrance
No token or memoir, for me
It stands as a witness to my entity’s deliverance.
My youth has nothing but that field
That passionate shimmer of sharp vision,
Even if I am vanquished…yet how can to foes I yield?
I swear I shall strike back in life hereafter
I have sworn to go about the cycle.
But restlessness grips thinking I may not be the winner.
The place of pride might be gone
From in front of my unaware eyes.
It’s my fault… but I believe there will be a new dawn.
It’s this transition period, its catharsis for me.
Ether choked motiveless nights and scaring thought,
Conch shells tomorrow shall not beckon spree.
The heat of summer, dampness that monsoon did bring
Withering autumn and dead cold winter,
Finally pass away to melt in rejuvenating spring.
In caprice, o my folk you might have jived,
In other tune, then moved on.
Yet I am the survivor in thick ‘n’ thin that lived…
I will regain all that I lost…take the right step.
Since none can do the done mistrusting pledge,
I will fight back…I wont take that I lost to fate!
