A View from Her Window

When Life does come as: A B or C, what can one do?

Fretting, shuffling, jumping up and down, what will that solve?

Walking in the shadows, I saw her standing near her window.

Her silhouette a portrait on canvas: a soft contour, a goddess

In disguise!  My thumping heart, won’t stop despite

Trying in vain to pressure it with both hands hugged

Tightly to my chest!  The soft wind caresses her sheer

Transparent, white curtain, billowing, waltzing

Against her curvy hips!

 Hoot, hoot! An owl perching on a branch near her window

Caused her to turn in my direction; I dove down as if she

Could see me in the moonless sky. “You’re a Knight

Commander who’s on a day of furlough –relax man!”

“As if that matters?” A whizzing thought intertwined hastily  

With the previous thought in my mind.  I’m a man first!

At least I should start believing it at any rate.

I’m allowed to feel—to love! I’m allowed to love

Her with all my might even if it has to be encased within

The deep recesses of my heart!

© January 13^th, 2015

Erleona Khuranin's Song: The Case of a Stubborn Lore

She travels the land with her companions

And soldiers in tow. She dismounts

And surveys the land far and wide                                         

Searching, searching, searching—

She turns to her companions

And whispers an inaudible                                          

Instructions; her companions

Scurry about in every direction

The stoic figure looks about

Her gaze intense, her expression masked

The companions, after a while return

Empty- handed, covered in dirt

And sweat; she looks up and looks at each.

Her eyes, darker from their usual hue

She utters aloud: “This better be remedied!

It shouldn’t take hours on end to uncover a lore!”

The Inquisition

The bugles sounded!

Rushing hooves are heard in the distance

Shuffling feet up and below

In hurried disharmony

Rebound in the empty halls-

Silence reigns in the Keep.

Archers in position-

Warriors await behind the great fortified iron gates.

A hand raised!

The approaching hooves carry behind them a cloud

Of dust masking the incoming horde—

The leader of the Keep, stoic, visibly perturbed.

His arm remains extended—

His hand in a tight fist—

His eyes transfixed on the enormous cloud of dust—

Steadily approaching with lightning speed