City with nine gates

The entrants to city are passing thro' the gates,
some quick, some slow in their pace and acts.
King is lamenting at the fate of his city,
with enemies at all nine gates vicinity.

The minister is witnessing king's wails
and sighting at the gates, sans veils
with  smile dancing on countenance
not a tinge of sorrow or fear of existence.

King in hurry gave orders, rang bells hard
summoning soldiers, assigning duties on aboard
Fearing all the time, sure of defeat
for this is not his usual slow beat.

He in agony called for minister to advice
in matters which are causes of great cowardice.

"Smile O King! at this entrants' face,
realize that you are beyond this farce.
Allow them with a smile joyous
and let them pass city without any war cries;"

"You are noncorrosive by this, O King
you are the pull and not a mere ting cog."

King smiled while aliens entered thro' nine gates
they tried a battle yet king gifted them roses,
Realizing their folly, went they away
in search of cities which can sway.

King was happy working with the mortar,
churning  love nectar  to each citizen and visitor.

Minister witness as he was, is and will
smiled at the king who passed the bill:
'Life is not a battle
life is love story subtle'

"After all the king is the ultimate ruler
and he has the choice of warrior or lover"
minister whispered to five winds caressing
"I am mere witness, always smiling."

The city of nine gates is beautiful.
the city with nine gates is purposeful
reigned  king supreme- all powerful
all citizens and visitors truly joyful.

Atop a hundred stories sat,
minister witnessing the sight.

To be or not to be

Sun moves over all things under

with no trepidation seated on an unseen saddle,

does his duty eternal forever, ponder

if shouldn't I be like sun with no concern for babble.

Moon, the beautiful lady clad in black velvet,

cries with saddened hearts at unseen nights

yet, people happy she fills the joyous goblet

moon, should I be giving each their worth feelings.

Oh! there I see the rain torrential 

preying on all with no remorse or twitch,

drenching all in harvest celestial,

should I be that, living for my own gulch.

Sat I near a clear pond  gazing at reflection,

and sighed to the creator's finest marvels,

 pure sights of creator's perfection

no botheration of cycles of impish times.

Chosen I to be as am with imperfection,

until a day I sit in my father's presence,

chiseling on my heart without trepidation

for the eternal place in world's absence.

For although creations are flawless,

 aren't they part of world imperfect?

Here they stay forever beseeching humans,

to take voyage to the unsullied paradise lost.

  

Withering Petals

I

A beautiful rose bud I planted

in my little garden, excited

and pleased with my self ,that breath

I poured into the petals that blush.

Evening I saunter to look at growing miracle,

simple red rose, that captured  spectacle

of setting sun and stitched cloth for itself

Oh! what an image that pleased my eyes.

After moon completed the celestial walk,

the petals blossomed at the call of cock

swaying, I saw, petals of impish delight

with every passing breeze and wishing wind.

II

The snow was falling in layers

as if a giant woodcutter above sawing timbers,

my beautiful rose was there in morning

sans bloom, alas! struck the spell of mourning.

"You can't do this...", I bemoaned to withering petals,

"Yesterday beautiful you were like a smile,

but now you look like smudged papers

life drenched and taken to a dozen mile."

Withering petals closed in further unperturbed

by my accusations nor unending advises,

"Expansion of life, contraction is death, O! rose bud

so why do you close in holding life's secrets."

Petals amused by bromides I bored

opened ever so slight pouring out light bright,

"My dear! How funny you like this fraud

glibly, ask I with no shame nor fright

purpose of existence these petals have

once I realize the truth beyond the red fence."

I shrugged my shoulders and picked the fallen 

after last shrivels without a quiver

"True", I concede at last to the new pollen

"Once I walked a mile afar

should I shudder and crawl forever"

A few petals forever blossomed

in my little garden at road's end.