Gone By Days.

Gone By Days.

The golden feathers of a bird in the spring sunshine glittered,
Oh’ upon her soft feathers wind glided,
Alone she rested and in thoughts maybe,
About the flight when summer warmth in air dance,
And in the cold morning of the fall fly,
Through the falling leaves low,
The ones once were green and large and gave,
Shelter and cover from mother nature’s wrath.
Then about the migration paths to find,
Leaving the howling winds and the piercing frost,
When to the southern thin and warm air fly,
But nothing down south can comfort,
Like the big green leaf’s touch,
When the piercing sun rays of the late summer noon binds,
When rain down comes and upon the leaf and splash,
 And under it when with soaked feathers sit,
With nudging little ones for cover squeaking,
Yet another season unfolding,
Yet another set of events to come,
So much dynamism,
So much fascination,
Yet, results of events and actions,
Same as gone by days.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM All Rights Reserved 2010.

Frozen Seeds.

I just thought of writing a poem and wrote the following. Then I thought I will write an introduction and blog post. I wrote some then I said, C’Mon man don’t do this. Because that blog post I wrote was filled with profanity. There are people in this world who thinks they are the best, you know what, they will learn that life is not what they think it is. Someone once asked me when I said, You will learn. “What will I learn?” here is the answer. You will learn that love and care is not something that will come to you easily. A dedicated lover will never leave or can never leave. All you see as friends, family are all reasons to reach that love. They will not last longer than they intended to stay with you. As for the person who truly love and care about you, it is up to you to decide how long that person should stay. I didn’t say that at that time as I know my anger may take what I may say as a curse for that someone. I can never, ever curse that person. But unfortunately that person chose the path that painfully will teach that person the lesson.
  The above said thoughts kinda triggered this poem. It was so quickly written and I am very busy with some things, I just was not able to go through the poem a second time. My critics, kill me if you want to for any errors I made.

Frozen Seeds.

Buried in the forces of winter so brutal,
You all sleep under the comfort of freeze.
Freeze by the will of nature brought,
And through lands and seas in north, spread.

Remember the beginning of colder months,
When the first leaf through the light cold breeze floated,
And upon the green grass fallen helplessly.
Oh’ the tree in pride at the dead lost leaf, looked.

Then one by one seeds by many means taken,
Some by birds, some by people, many just fell,
And through fires, rains and winds far away went,
Life in a shell kept, in forced sleep.

Are you all dreaming to see the sunlight?
Are you all dreaming to see the blinking stars?
Are you all dreaming to soak in rains of spring?
Are you all dreaming to dance in the summer warmth?

With new leaves, flowers giving sweet honey and fruit,
Are you all dreaming to leave a mark of your own in this world?
Land is old, the air will be new, the winds will come,
With songs sung by birds in far away lands.

What lessons one can learn though not seen,
Thinking about a seed, deep buried,
Though in wonder one can still smile,
As life is same for all creations one know.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. 2009 All Rights Reserved

The Essence Of A Lover’s Life.

This is a fantastic day, the Arctic blast is tap dancing around me. I am not a big fan of tap dancing still the tap dancing from North, yeah I can live with that. Tomorrow is going to get more colder in my mother tongue they say “Rudra Thandavam” it means the dance in Anger and Vengeance. Maybe what we are going to feel tomorrow is that kinda dance. I love cold, snow, ice and everything of winter. Today I was driving around in the cold by late afternoon I understood, I am an expert driver on icy roads but most others are not. So I got back home. Hope everyone is trying to stay warm this weekend. Enjoy the cold.
   This poem is not a happy poem. For not a happy reason I thought of shutting down this PoetryBox. I am not going to go into the details of that. At that time I wrote this poem. It kinda gives the essence of the reasons. Well as I have decided not to shutdown the site I kept this poem away. I am not going to shutdown and go away from here. But the poem in its essence is very real. Sorry everyone on a cold winter day I only have more cold to give you all.

The Essence Of A Lover’s Life.

Sunday came and Sunday left, 
He wished the sky were blue and air more warm,
He wished his love where in her arms,
But further and further form him she too left.

Wishes were all good, bad and many were just to be dreamt,
One way or the other from bad to just another dreamer he went,
A mad man talking to himself in the eyes of the world,
As so much about her love to himself he told.

The sleep in love brought the dream,
Then the dream through every corner of life weaved,
A drag net that gathered every bit of life and filled,
Love for her in way humanity unknown.

The wishes were like glaciers moved,
Eyes can’t see, legs can’t feel, no noise heard,
Love indeed is an unseen, unheard, untouched feeling,
Uninvited into him from all around consumed.

Unreal, impossible Oh many words from her he heard,
Mind like horses in a stable back and forth swayed,
As through every means love for her to erase he tried,
Ah’ the pain of the unloved he himself forget to forgive.

All he left, the pain still he felt and to erase he talked,
Talked again and again about all that came and gone,
To a wild world that danced around she too joined,
Unknowing, hearing his talks to erase his pain, to forget all, she too told.

A corner unknown, a way unknown he searched,
To go far, far away, far away from her he decided,
Oh’ then a drop of tear from the page he wrote erased,
The word love he wrote with the essence of his life, filled with her face.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. 2009 All Rights Reserved.

The Fire Starters

Happy New Year everyone. woo hoo one more year went away. A year in which more bad than good took its marathon run. For many people it is just another step, in fact it is a step that taught most of us great, great lessons. I strongly believe this is just a bad patch of time and soon things will be better than before it all turned bad. New Year day is a holiday that makes us all smile. Well in all honestly, it is just another day. Nothing changed only we the people feel a difference inside us which can be had everyday. See every day is a new day. Everyday one can have this new feeling as everything is new on every given day. People just imagine things, assume things, predict things and expect things. When it all don’t happen in the way they want, all will look for things to blame. In fact there is nothing to blame. That’s the way things are supposed to happen on that piece of time.

    This poem The Fire Starters, took nearly 2 weeks to write. I had this feeling in my mind which I tried my best to express in words. Well read it then you will know that I was not 100% successful in getting it all out into words. Please feel free to point out any mistakes or things you don’t understand properly. Here it is

The Fire Starters.

The wild fires through the jungle flared,
As everything on the ground flames consumed,
Further and further to the edges flames came,
And then deeper and deeper flames went.

The darkness of nights none can see,
Over the mountains and through the valley,
The flames took its Olympian run,
The wind in all directions took the flame.

Burning through all living, burning down all that stood gray,
Big and small, colored and colorless, the flames consumed,
And the monster smokes like giants in the dark, danced,
Through the air, covering even the noon time sun.

Winds first like an old witch near a pyre blown,
Then the warmth of the fires made winds on its own,
Through the jungles like veins in a body the fires grown,
Ashes and dusts through air to far away lands flown.

The flames through all corners of jungle passed,
And every ways in ashes erased,
Oh’ what wonders once in depths stood,
Now in warm winds from all sides came, all around flown.

The ones though with unclear minds started the fire,
Not knowing how fast and fiery the fire can move,
Now none knows what through their minds passed,
As paths to each other in their own fires erased.

A hope among the ashes and dust up in the air flown,
That as prayers all through the charred trees echoed,
All the green the flames in fury burned,
Will fertilize the lands into new born growth.

The sun from the horizons left, leaving night victorious,
The flames maybe gone and the winds upon the mounts rested,
The valley still bright in some unknown light laid,
And through every paths known and unknown the light spread.

The light guided the streams back to the valley,
And the prayers answered as new sprouts from ashes arose,
Oh’ flames and heat can burn to ashes all lovely lives,
But the soul of this jungle remains untouched by any flames we know.

The depth of the jungle knows no heat,
Though flames of fires even deeper roots burned,
In the depth only light remained, light that came out of no fire,
That light never will fade even when everything is burned beyond roots.

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. 2009 All Rights Reserved

Rhythms Of An Unchoreographed Dance.

I am still sick actually not a lot more sick but I am sick. Coughing at steady intervals. Medicines have made my body very toxic that’s what I can say. So I am staying away from everyone sitting in the basement. I hope everyone survived the arctic blast. Woo that was cold but you know what, even though it makes me sick, I love the cold, freeze, snow and Ice any day. What else is going on? Mmm Obama received the Nobel peace prize pssst and justified wars. Daang he is one lucky guy who is fighting war on one side and receiving peace prize on the other. Anyway no other news really touched me than that. Actually it made me laugh. The world was way better when I was a kid at least spiritually.

   Well, you all might’ve seen the video I posted along with the last poem. I can add just this. I am not a person who takes my way upon others, there is a way each and every person live, believes and achieves. It differs from person to person. One person’s treasure is another’s trash that doesn’t mean all are trash. I don’t thrust my ideas upon others just because I think for me it is right, it may be wrong for another person. So people should understand we are in many ways a collection of more than 6 billion islands connected by the care and love we give each other. It is those connections that makes life peaceful and more wonderful. Some people from totally different backgrounds, age and even geographical distances connect together in this age of information highway. Once connected even though people may not see, hear or communicate each other just don’t lose the connection between themselves. It will be there beyond, past, present and future which is defined by time. In the spiritual world, there is no time factor. Well, that’s just my way. Tell me about your way of dealing with things from past, in present, thinking about future.

       Here is a poem I wrote as a first draft a while back and now gave a different context. The word Unchoreographed is not a perfect word as one may not find it in any dictionary. But it conveys the meaning in my mind. The idea of the poem is simple. It takes two to tango hehe. See, a connection happens between two people. It is up to those two to decide where to take it. Sometime one will fail to understand or some people go through delusions of just not accepting the fact that there is a feeling of care for another person. They try everything to just get rid of the feeling, justify with every means why they don’t care. Each time, they will only underline the care and love for another person. At times that reality makes both very, very sad. These are the thoughts that came to my mind when I wrote this poem. The whole idea is not depicted in the poem as is. But you all will know what is implied when you finish reading this poem.

Rhythms Of An Unchoreographed Dance.

Step by step the dancer moved,
The rhythm from music in mind heard gathered,
Picturing next steps standing on the present,
Not knowing anything about the next steps,
As all that is real is the past and the new born moment.

The mysterious illusions so tempting to follow,
The tender naked feet so fast lay,
Dragging thoughts way deep in the past erupted.
All those thoughts under those well laid steps buried.

Past is the history, the well laid foundation,
Future is the illusion the hunter in everyone hunts,
And present is where past can bring us,
And the bows well stretched to fire the feelings to morrows.
 
Though so wonderful to watch the dancer’s dance,
Taking rhythm from heart in spontaneity births,
For the odd laid steps a rhythm in another heart births,
For which no tune the dancer heard.

Every step of the dance piece of the jigsaw puzzle,
Every piece placed in the order it meant to be,
The puzzle when finished should always look,
In the past when the puzzle was drawn,
And step by step of a dance from a dynamic mind,
Portrayed the face of a lover the dancer never expected to see.

Oh listen to your own heart beat,
The whistling tunes gather the dusts of past,
From which colors of all kinds in love brewed,
And a jigsaw puzzle through fate of life made,
The finished jigsaw puzzle is meant to be in your heart,
Reality of all this is a dance none choreographed,
The rhythm of that dance can be heard,
Only when counterpoints of two heart beats are heard.

Here is the BlogTV presentation of the Poem.
Rhythms Of A Dance Broadcast your self LIVE

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. 2009 All Rights Reserved

Murmur Of A Vagabond

I will be back on blogtv tonight for a brief show. I am not fully fit to do any show. My left chin still hurts. And I haven’t shaven for nearly two weeks. Still I will be there.

   The week is almost over. I really wished for a week like this, so, no complaints. Catch you all later.

 

Enjoy the poem.

Murmur Of A Vagabond.

The crowd every moment fattened,

But none known to each other at each other they looked,

Strangers in a closely knit world filled,

By the pathetic portion of materialism,

That runs through the veins of screaming losers,

None hear them but their spiritual ghosts,

Oh’ the reality of those ghosts murdered,

By passionless lovers and their admirers.

 

More and more people to the middle of the town poured,

Even couples who left home as couples became strangers,

And through them all step by step he walked,

Many smiling strangers his eyes don’t see,

None of the mocking giggles his ears don’t hear,

Those arrogant ones who bumped on him he felt not.

The world as is from his mind left,

Life from his veins drained,

Oh’ the poison of the witchcraft of love too left,

As every loving feeling from his mind he erased.

 

The fast moving crowd, many without direction wandered,

Artificial lights in many colors glittered,

Oh’ their minds he could hear,

And only for one face all around him he looked,

Then the wisdom from the past through his mind breezed,

And to himself he murmured,

“Oh’ how much I loved you dear,

And how much I love you dear,

Why through the wilderness of this world you danced?

Why only scream of your long lost ghost I hear?

Why to the love of mine you never looked,

Through the spiritual side than the material mockery of the world?”

 

In his mind or any of his wisdom in his mind he knew,

Gave any answers to those questions murmured,

Rain poured and the crowd lost their grip,

As he walked on and on knowing where he will reach,

Not knowing how his mind will gain a bit of peace at that moment.

 

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. 2009-2015 All Rights Reserved

Questions.

It was a lousy, drowsy weekend. A total waste of time. I didn’t do anything just slept most of the time and Vicodin helped too. The pain is still there so I cannot eat anything that needs good chewing. I want to eat steak, big outback steak. Damn when I wanted it I can’t eat it. One thing I don’t understand, my belly still is the same size, damn, one week of literally liquid food no change, if I eat one steak, my belly increases half an inch.

   Enough rambling about my weekend and lonely life hehe. People misunderstand me. That is the curse I live with. I intend only good for everyone. If at any point what I said or did hurt anyone please forgive me. I have only one request, if one cannot pay attention to me or not make me wait please don’t even think about communicating with me. Because unlike many others I am very alone so I seek attention. You want to call me an attention freak, go ahead, if that is who I am in your definition so be it. But never wake me up and tell me there is no supper for you. Hope what I meant is understood.

 

 Here is a poem.

    

Questions.

Clouds like dragons float around firing,

Venomous fire at each other sparking,

And falling on to Earth, as summer danced in,

In this season when spring left with promises unfulfilled.

 

The lush greenery spring time left bore no flowers,

And days like magical serpents into the depths of nights grew,

Still all across the horizon I see not,

No star with the glow from your eyes, born,

No wind in the rhythm of your heart singing, blown,

Ah’ still at the wonders of the world I look and wonder,

Why without a dream for me to see you left,

A thousand reasons you can tell,

A hundred different ways to walk,

Away from me into the world in rainbows bound.

 

Unrealistic all definitions are,

In every definition in the wonderful mind of yours,

And to the world around you, me and everyone else,

Why not walk on one of the rainbows into my heart pierce?

Didn’t you named the glow in your heart once after me?

Oh’ will you ever be able to turn off, the light you and I are?

 

Wipe away the mirages,

Whip away the whining distractions,

Who all with friendly smiles shadows,

But will leave you to melancholy and pain in dark.

 

O’ Summer sun come from above the darker clouds,

And with those gentle palms of light caress,

The face in brightness only seen by her,

Shine bright through moon at night,

To show her dreams filled with love of mine.

 

O’ my dear, there are no more definitions for my love,

As all my love was molded and made your soul,

As in your thoughts even nature around me dissolves in me,

Why not make the unreal real and bless the love of ours?

 

©RIAZAHAMMED.COM. 2009-2015 All Rights Reserved

Angelic Blessings

Big Foot Found or Not….mmmm I don’t believe it. No bodies only some DNA. They won’t say about the place. Sounds like a modern day hoax. I wonder why the media gave them that much attention.

Now look at this guy.

 

A man in an ape costume is seenoutside a hotel where a media conference is held announcing the claimthat a deceased bigfoot or sasquatch creature has been found in Georgiaon Friday, Aug. 15, 2008, in Palo Alto, Calif.(AP Photo/Ben Margot)

If I am not wrong. I believe Iwrote a poem with the same name some years back. I don’t know how manypeople exists from that era who constantly visit my site. Well, Imyself don’t remember it, then how can anyone else remember it. Anywaywrote it and hope you all enjoy it. As for me I am enjoying Olympics. Iam a big fan of Olympics and my keen following of Olympics started whenI was seven years old. At that time I remember my sister, brothers andcousins speaking about the wonderful gymnastics of Nadia Comaneci. In1980 my cousin went to Moscow to see the Olympics and brought a lot ofmemorabilia. In 1984 we bought a T.V but the telecast did not reachedour little town(Alleppey, Kerala, India) so my older brother went tothe nearby city (Cochin, Kerala, India whcih is about 40 miles north ofAlleppey) with a bunch of VHS cassettes and recorded most of thehighlights and brought it to us everyday. In 1988 I was in college andit was fun watching Olympics with friends. 1992, wow, I was at hometook vacation and watched the whole Olympics. 1996 same thing tookvacation and watched the whole Olympics at home with my cousins anduncle. 2000 in Milwaukee, WI. I was alone and watched the Olympics athome. No need to take vacations as I was out of job. 2004 I was inOverland Park. KS. working at sprint watched it with my mom most of theevenings. Now aha… I won’t say where I am, but I am not alone. Myspecial congratulations to Michael Phelps and Nastia Liukin for makingus all proud with their fantastic performances. Both of them are truepoetry in action.

Someone recently asked me, if I have agirlfriend and if I found love. The answer is, people who can lovepeople like me are extinct.

Angelic Blessings.

The golden rays of sun left no mystery,
As darkness with a feel of guilt arrived,
Triumphant winners took it all and slept,
Losers licked their wounds and thought in pain,
Many for the image of the morrows begged,
Still known is only the past, that limped away.

Some stars opened their shutters,
A little bit of light from far away thrown,
Like glow worms flickered and in slow motion moved,
The guilt of the night left and more beauty seen,
Up way up between heaven and this good old earth.
Oh’ night unraveled beauty, most in sleep never see.

Ah’ what wonderful patterns one can see,
When from the depths of the never ending universe come,
The little glow that to the souls of us speak,
Verses written before sun, moon and earth created,
But the light only in background of darkness flickered.

Through the darkness in silence came,
The morning looking for the reasons to brighten,
Then you opened those wonderful eyes of yours,
Through those eyes shown to the world a wonderful soul
From it took the light and the morning brightened,
And those stars faded leaving,
Angelic blessings upon our love.

AND THE HOUSE FELL DOWN – ELTON JOHN & BERNIE TAUPIN

Thisis an Elton John song.. from the album Captain And The Kid. I lookedfor a video of this song and found this wonderful animation video madeby someone in youtube. Listen to the lyrics and watch this video. Thisperson did a great work with this song.

Tess Of The D’Urbervilles-Phase The Sixth-The Convert.

Hello Everyone,
 The ones that stayed through all the good times, bad times and crazytimes and the new handful of people. Here is it, the next installment of”Tess Of The D’Urbervilles” This, of course, you all may know is anovel written by Thomas Hardy. Because of respect, love, admiration Ifelt for this character I started writing about the character Tess aspoems. The initial idea was to write seven long poems bringing in themain events through which Thomas Hardy depicted this character. Ithought of making two changes one at the beginning and one towards theend. I started this venture in 2005 but something went wrong with thewhole idea of change in the beginning. That is a long long story intowhich I am not going into now. When I stopped writing these poemswhatever remained were kept in a box, the real “PoetryBox”. Really,there is a box with me, a wooden Remington shell box. I claimed I willfinish them… but never got the strength of mind to take it back aswhat happened during the first attempt must be overcome before tryingit again. Recently I figured I am good enough to get right back atthem. Took the poems and literally re-wrote the remaining part, I brokethis Phase of the novel into two poems. This is Phase the sixth-TheConvert, Part One. This poem ends with the first letter of Tess toAngel Clare, one of the most touching part of the entire novel is thisletter. The previous Phase was divided into two poems, this one will betwo poems one this one and the remaining part of Phase sixth. Then twomore poems will be posted here “The Fulfillment” the last Phase of thestory.
  Like I said in my previous post here, these are still rough drafts.For those who don’t know the way I write poems, I first write a roughdraft, portions of this maybe very close to prose. Then from that Iwrite a first draft, which will be an edited version of the roughdraft. Then I write a final draft. Those who bought my book and read itwill know what a final draft may look like as most of the poems hereare either rough drafts or first drafts.
  I would like your feedback on this if you get enough time to readthem. The link to previous phase poems are also here. Once more this isan on going adventure… I will finish it with the help of God and thesupport of all of you. I dedicate these poems to that one person. Sheknows who is she.

Here are the previous phases.

Tess Of TheD’Urbervilles. Phase The First–The  Maiden.

Tess Of TheD’Urbervilles-Phase The Second–Maiden NoMore

Tess Of TheD’Urbervilles-Phase The Third–The Rally.

Tess Of The D’Urbervilles Phase The Fourth–The Consequence.

Tess Of The D’Urbervilles Phase The Fifth–The Woman Pays-Part 1.

Tess Of The D’Urbervilles-Phase The Fifth-Part 2-The Plight, In Tears And Hope.

Tess Of The D’Urbervilles

Phase The Sixth

TheConvert.

Though tried to move away unnoticed,
Tess couldn’t save herself from theeagle’s view,
Of the man she hated every moment inthese years.
Who now have a changed appearance,
And in his speech have fire filledpassions,
But the view of Tess put out the fire,
His passions deserted him in theinnocence seen
And his preachings of faith becamebabbling.

Tess left his view through the countrygravel road.
And as fast as she could, walked away,
But once again failed in the outpacing,
The man who haunted her dreams,
From the age of innocence till date.

Alec caught up with the almost running Tess,
And tried to introduce himself back,
The cold of the winter that stillremained,
Filled in the responses of Tess inreturn.
Alec told about the way he tried toreach out,
Losing hope as all his endeavors tofind her failed.
Now a convert who changed his views,
And told her about the way he changed,
After his mind by a parson was purified
Whom once he insulted for the preach offaith.
The same parson Tess ventured to meet,
But in futile effort, and now shestands
In front of the worst enemy at theworst moment.
The regretful words of Alec to her,
For his misconduct which he want tocorrect,
But nothing can pierce the shield oflove of Tess,
For the one whom she love, remaineddedicated.

Alec tried all he learned from hispreaching,
To persuade Tess in him to believe,
But her unbelief she said, in hisconversion,
And his scheme of religion as flashes,that won’t last.
The talks between them went on and on,
The converted evangelist and a girlwhose belief lost,
By the fancy of men in the senselesscraving of youth,
Tess in the depths of her mind thought,
How long and how far the evangelistwill follow,
As their talks became mere ramblings ofstrangers,
A man trying hard to find a stablecommon ground,
And girl who learned wickedness ofhumanity,
By experience than experiments of life,
Nor by the wisdom no evangelist evertaught.

Then at the “Cross in hand” theycame, a place so isolated,
Where stood a stone, upon which carveda human hand,
Where the hunter must leave his prey,so he asked,
How she learned to speak so fluentlylike a learned,
And who taught her such mannerisms inspeech,
Evasively with glances far away fromAlec she said,
In her troubles all the things shelearned, and paused,

Expecting the implied question from himthat came,
What troubles she have had as if heknew nothing.
In limited words Tess said about thefirst one,
The one that related to him that lefthim muted,
The the distance between him and her heunderstood,
The difference between the humans inthem he learned,
Still gathering the fury of his youththe silence he broke,
And told her, she will see him again,with conviction,
“No, do not come near me again” shesaid and stopped,
As she saw Alec upon the pillar and hesaid,
Once this was a holy cross, and hisfear of her,
Fear of her charms that may tempt him,
And to swear upon the stone that shemay never tempt him,
After a long time Tess said the wordGod,
As she sworn upon the stone saying whatis so unnecessary.
Alec left her after a little chat nowknowing,
Her religious unbelief, yet, how highshe remain,
And how low a human he is in everyaspect of life.

Around the hill she walked as the firstnext human she saw,
A shepherd to whom she asked about themeaning of the stone,
He said, O’ twer not a cross but apiece of stone laid upon,
The bones of a man who were killed forselling his soul,
To devil and were caught and tortured to death by country men.

Tess stood there motionless and stunned,
For sometime there in thoughts, then continued,
And step by step drew near toFlintcomb-Ash,
Then ahead of her she saw,
A couplewalking and talking,
The chilly air of the evening
By theaccents of a man warmed,
And by the response of the young girl
Toall those silly remarks.
For a moment those voices cheered,
Theheart of Tess, then the thoughts
Of her owntribulation to her mind came,
When she thought about the origin ofthis encounter,
That started with same kind ofattraction,
Which Tess at nineteen know very well.
When close to the couples she came,
She understood the girl as Izz Huet,
Who left her opposite sex interest tothe news,
Of Tess’s excursion, to which Tessexplained none,
And Izz a girl who grew up with Tesswith knack changed,
And started talking about her littleaffair,
With a boy who at Talbothays workedwith her,
And took all the pain following her tothis place,
To tell her he’s been in love
With her forall these two years,
But she have hardly answered him.

Days has passed all around Tess,
Nights crawled like a serpent tired,
Tess’s hard labor continued in Flintcomb-Ash,
Chopping off swedes and other manly farm jobs.
One day while hard work in the dying winter days,
Alec came back to her against all her wishes,
With a marriage license to make up for his tricks,
A trick for his dirty, rotten mind,
But total destruction of innocence of a young girl.
Tess in the advancement was forced to reveal,
Her marriage and in brief words her estrangement,
From a husband she love with every drop of her blood,
Every breath that keeps her alive.
Mockery led to irony and irony to disappointment,
Then anger filled the crooked mind of Alec,
His days as pastor ended as back to dirty past he fell.

Days brightened in the late winter in Wessex,
And the CandlemasFair too passed by,
A day when to decide where to spent,
The future in the next year as a farm girl,
Oh’ Tess did not go as she thought,
No outdoor engagement will be necessary,
As her husband from the far away land may come.
That gave her a bit of peace of mind,
And the sun started to spread his wings around,
Though the wind carried the memories,
Memories of the gone by winter days.
Alec remained the one dark spot around Tess,
As to her home with all philosophy he learned he went,
But to her negations and the strong will with she loved,
Her long gone husband who in her mind lived,
With more vigor than in his life of flesh and blood,
All of his efforts to change her mind shattered,
And in disappointment anger and frustration,
Alec left her once more failing to love her.

Tess decided to write to Angel, concealing,
Her hardships and assuring her undying love for him,
But between those lines what one may feel,
Is her fear of some unknown, her frustration of desperation,
But she couldn’t finish her writing,
As the thought of him asking Izz to go along,
Came with a storm in her mind and gave her thoughts,
That Angel may not care for her anymore.

As the warmth around the nature got more foothold,
Work in the farm too changed,
Tess worked in the processing of the corn sheaves,
From daybreak they started and till night they worked,
Life without love in all mechanical form continued,
But heart never felt hopeless and it still thrived,
To hear a loving word as words of love to be said,
Actions of love and care in dreams filled,
Oh’ any sin knowing or unknowing committed,
Melted from her soul, leaving it pure,
And the commitment she shown erased,
Every bit of doubt, from her mind,
About Angel’s love for her,
But the dark side of love stalked,
Her day and night and in between,
The one who bears the pride of her family name,
Alexander D’Urberville the ex-preacher now her shadow,
And on a day when upon the machine she stood,
He came and waited for her to take a break,
When for having food she took a break,
The poor little Tess who hardly could walk,
Sat upon the rick to eat her modest dinner,
Alec came to her with his usual advancements,
Her unbelief in religion and her unwavering love,
His mockery of her work and her his sympathy,
For the hardship upon her he brought,
Then he declared to her “Here I am, my love,
As in old times” For which she protested,
Nothing is the same as no affection for him is there,
In her heart that in all dedication remained,
For the husband from whom she haven’t heard.
Alec changed his affection talks to blames
Blaming her for the reason for his backsliding,
Then to her he said to share it and leave,
The mule she calls her husband.
No warning, no second thought, no fear,
The heavy leather farm gloves she took
And swung it directly at his face,
Alec fiercely started at her but he controlled,
As blood through the side of his lips oozed,
The gravity of the situation Tess understood,
But upon the rick she just sat and said,
Whip me, crush me; and don’t mind the people around,
I shall not cry loud,
Once victim, always victim—that’s the law!,
Alec holding his anger and pain declared,
He was once her master and he will be once more,
If she is any mans wife she will be his.
Tess in silence upon the rick sat,
Then after sometime with the same mind that’s stunned,
Resumed her work at the threshing-machine.
Alec waited for her to finish her work,
And walked along with her on her way home,
He offered her help once more,
To make better lives of her and her parents and siblings,
To this offer Tess to Alec told,
Not to mention her brothers and sisters once more,
To break her down in her good feelings of them,
And asked him to help them as God knows,
They are in need and to help them without telling her,
And adamantly said, no no she will not take,
Nothing from him, for them or for herself.

Alec left her and Tess to her lodgings went,
After a bath and sharing supper with the family she lived,
She fell into thoughts as the little lamp flickered,
Warmth and light around, then in a passionate mood she wrote.

My Own Husband,
  Let me call you so, I must,
Even if it makes you angry to think,
About a wife as I am, so unworthy,
Cry to you I must, in my trouble,
As none else I have but you in my mind.
Angel, I am so much exposed to temptation,
I fear to say who it is and I do not like,
To write anything about it at all,
But to you I cling in way you cannot think,
Can you not come to me at once,
Before anything terrible happens?
O, I know you cannot as far away you are,
I think I must die, if you do not come soon,
Or tell me to come to you soon.
The punishment for me you have measured,
I know that I deserved, well deserved,
And you are right and just to be angry with me.
But please Angel, please, not to be so just,
Just be a little kind to me,
Even if I do not deserve your kindness,
And and come to me soon.
In your arms I could die,
If you would come to me,
I would well be content to die in your arms,
If so be you had forgiven me.

My life I live entirely for you, Angel,
As I love you so much, too much, to blame,
For you leaving me alone and going away,
And I know the necessity of you to find,
Land where you can build our farm.
Do not think a word of bitterness or sting,
I shall say against the will and wish of yours.
Only come back to me as without you I am desolate,
My darling O, so desolate, I do not mind to work,
If you send me a word, one little line that say,
“I am coming soon” I will bide O, so cheerfully.

Ever since we were married,
It has been so much my religion to be faithful,
To you in every thought and look,
Even when a man speaks compliment to me,
Before I am aware, I feel wronging you.
Have you never felt one little bit,
Of what you used to feel at the diary?
If you have, how can you keep away from me?
The same woman I am Angel, the one you fell in love,
Not the one you disliked and never saw.
The moment I met you all that was past died,
I became another woman filled with life,
Life and love that came from your heart.
How can I be the early one?
Why do you not see this?
Dear, be a little more conceited,
And believe in yourself who made this change in me,
Perhaps that would give you the mind,
To come to me, your poor wife.

In my happiness how silly I was,
When I thought I could trust,
Trust you always to love me.
I ought to have known,
Such as that was not for poor me.
But sick at heart I am,
Not only for old times,
But for the present too.
Think Angel, think, how it hurt,
My heart not to see you, ever,
Ah, if I could hurt your dear heart,
A little every day as mine does every day,
It might lead you to show pity,
To your poor lonely one.

I am rather pretty people say,
Angel (handsome is the word they use,
Since to be truthful to you, I wish.)
Perhaps I am what they say,
But my good looks I do not value,
I like to have them because,
They to you my dear, my looks belong.
And that maybe at least one thing,
About me worth your having.
Oh so much have I felt this,
That when I met annoyance of the same,
My face with bandage I tied,
As long as people would believe in it.
O, Angel not from vanity I tell you all this,
And you will know certainly I do not,
But only that you may come to me.

If you cannot come to me Angel,
Will you let me come to you?
I am as I say, worried,
Pressed to do what I will not do.
It cannot be that an inch I shall yield,
Yet, I am in terror,
As what an accident might lead to.
And so defenseless I am,
On account of my first error.
I cannot say more about this,
As it makes me too miserable.
But if I break down by falling,
Into some fearful snare,
My last state will be worse than the first.
O, God I cannot think about it,
Let me come at once,
Or at once come to me.

I would be content, ay, glad,
To live as a servant with you,
If I may not as your wife,
So I could be near you,
And get glimpses of you,
And think of you as mine.

The daylight has nothing to show me,
Since you are not here,
And the rooks and starlings on the field,
I don’t like to see,
Because I grieve and grieve to miss you,
Who used to see them with me.
I wish for only one thing in heaven,
Or earth or under the earth,
To meet you my own dear, come to me,
Come to me and save me,
From what threatens me.

Your faithful heartbroken
Tess.

(To Be Continued……)

The original text of the novel for this Phase can be found here… Tess Of The D’Urbervilles-Phase The Sixth-The Convert

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