Cobbler and the boy

He hopped too much and he kicked the stone too far
the insole buckle had to rip off and show a scar.
The boy’s steps were conspicuously fiddly now
and his pace back home lost it’s form and trace.

Dirt and rubble kissed the open face of the buckle
while an unconscious grip grew on his lips and knuckle.
The hole in his pocket was always accused for his destitute state
and the absence of coins would teach him a lesson today.

Uneasiness began to creep in and play a part
in the long weary trek down to his abode of heart.
No sign of frustration overpowered the air of the trouble
to rupture his joy or the intriguing sway of the dead twig in hand.

As he crossed the blue tarp bus shed on his way
there was a cobbler packing up his tools at the end of the day.
With scars in face and a half-lit cigarette hanging soft
he looked faintly scary in the dark dusk of the coming nightfall.

His unmindful thoughts ignored the cobbler’s haste for the end
as he rushed through the bus shed and turned right into the bend.
The cobbler’s restless eyes caught a glimpse of his tread
and he dropped the tool-case to dramatically reveal the needles and spool.

He called the boy out with a sharp tone in voice,
sharp as the healing prick of the needle he took as choice.
The boy came back fidgeting all the way and slow
with his head stooped down, legs shivering too.

Rugged left hand of the cobbler held the boy’s ankle tight
and he stripped off the torn sandal with a subtle show of might.
Sharpening the needle on a wet and gleaming rock
he gaped at the cost of the shyness in the boy’s innocent eyes.

Within minutes of awkward silence shared in the space
the cobbler repaired the sandal and kept a grinning face.
He shoved the open-toed footwear into the shivering legs
as the boy’s helpless tears reflected the barefoot cobbler’s dirty foot.

Advertisements

Villathi!

The madman judges the enigma too effortlessly,
Ah! such an ignorant and self centered prick.
Yet she is honest, brutal and straight as the forging steel,
with a pendant on her heart that stops us from making a steal.
Secrets and million wavering thoughts find their way to her heart
and the pendant hides the shadow of the path! A godly purpose doing its part.

The scar in her head is a sign of the wound
she got from the previous births she had took.
Hit and beat up with insensitive judgement and vile
blow of the men who sent her into an infinite exile.
Another burden of doubts and reasons were swooned
to massacre this poor girl and her hold on the ground was shook.

Still dazed and unsure about her place on this earth,
she belittled the beauty of her purpose and birth.
Again the madman would blame her and tease
till the reasons flow into her heart as a soothing release.
She is scared now, and she is trembling with fear
but she gracefully tones the clumsy tremble to a dance.
The devil is doubtful and the evil doesn’t long to hear
the glorious songs of victory that romance her trance.
Yes, she is bad! And yes, she is good.
Yes, she is someone who is seldom understood.
No, she isn’t bad! And no, she isn’t good.
No! She is nothing but a wonder that this heaven never understood.