A valley somewhere,
cries for the lost soul,
the soul wanders,
in the snow-capped mountains,
over the beautiful lakes,
picks a colourful flower,
amidst the gunshots,
amidst the pain,
be it the freezing wind,
or the incessant rain,
he comes back,
seeing himself lie, bullet-ridden,
with no one to bury,
he keeps the flower,
and ponders,
Heaven was made for everyone,
for those who have love in the heart,
it’s the greed that made me die,
when I could have lived,
at the “Heaven on the Earth.”
Tag Archives: Death
The Painting
layers of colour spread over the palette,
some over her tiny hands,
the way she paints with them is beautiful,
only her tiny eyes will understand,
she said I painted mama,
in her favourite dress,
I wish she was alive,
to tell her it was her best.
The Kid
2014 © Christopher Martin
A Blizzard,
where winds howl,
like a direwolf,
missing his master,
where light is consumed,
even in the layers of white,
no living seen out,
no dead can be seen,
only sheer darkness,
ruling in the cold.
a boy cries strolling,
in the snow,
they say he was lost,
a few years ago,
his cries are not of pain,
but a whimsical laughter,
to bring out the living,
and play in snow,
those who go,
never come back,
but their cries are heard,
like the howlings,
every same day,
the child got lost.
Voice Seeking Heaven.
Euthanasia or Mercy Killing is a highly debated issue,with people willing to die because they can't bear the excruciating sad life with no hopes left for better tomorrow.
Between the battles of life,
and triumphs of battles,
layed a voice so idle,
with no strength left,
no hopes for a miracle,
eyes wander as far as it can,
with bafflement unbearable,
armchair carries the body,
but soul refuses to stay,
in the confinement,
that is at rest since ages,
the purpose has been lost ,
and the hope is decaying,
it seems the bird flew close to the sun,
and got a great burning,
everyday the eyes try to see the stars,
wants to find the faults,
that made all stop,
eyes still,
looks for the star,
that is the destined one,
where the soul would rest,
once free,
not all souls seek an early heaven,
not all want to be free soon,
it is the scars that one can’t live with,
that makes destiny rot into memories,
death is not a fear now,
but a friend embracing arms,
that would let voice seek heaven,
and questions unanswered.
There were things to tell you,
before I drown myself in the ocean,
feed myself to the sharks,
Instead of being loathsome,
There were things to tell you..
Everything is Predestined..Is it?
My Friend asked a simple question last night to me,
Is everything predestined in a path we can’t see,
the path that takes through ups and downs,
the path we call life with a bit frown,
If everything is predestined,then what is the suprise,
why does the almighty then play this hide and seek so nice,
why can’t he simply do a peek-a-boo
and tells us you can’t take decisions cause i am here too,
We act in situations, we crawl through this life,
we seem to ponder and estimate our might,
but that all would seem so useless,
if everything is so predestined and almighty so ruthless,
if you ask me i would strongly disagree,
nothing is predestined according to me,
let him play games i would play with him too,
Lets see what destiny holds for us, checkmate or redo
Writings to Heaven 