An untitled poem(part -1)

Seldom something like that comes to mind.And with a lesser probability,I take my pen,2 jot those line..........It was in my English class room, during the initial days of plus one,I got that inspiration..Vividly, I remember my English ma'am enquired whether I copied the poem from some book.Those lines did not promise emerging of another classic poetess.Nor it was self satisfactory.But,i felt the wave of jealousy being diffused into the room.Two years later,sitting in the closet(yeah ,it's true),the theme of this poem came 2 my mind.I felt the surge of creativity within me and I feel like a proud mother of slain martyr,about those moments i spent writing the lines.

looking forward a love life,so that I can finish my 1st srajnaa.








Walking through the pavement,
In cemetery to pray for the souls,
I found myself being
Attracted by a field.

There was no magnet,
But I took my feelings positive.
It was a grave-a faded one,
Covered with wild bushes with no flowers.

To define my curiosity,
Searched the tomb to know whose it is.
A single body so far occupied
There engraved her life tenure.

It named Rose Maria Santiago
Dates on that deserted grave
Sped my mind through the classes
History classes attended in childhood.

A name so familiar yet,
I dig deeply, turned
Sad as no result found.

Keeping the ways, my mind travelled, aside,
Reached home and glanced paper.
News embodied the spirit.
Captioned under, “Our fruitful freedom”,
The snapshot showed,
The man behind our destiny
And behind him, the face of a
Exhilarated woman, jubilant with emotions,
Tied my eyes to the shot momentarily.

San Rosa-I read from description.
It was the date before, now this
Strange name pulls me intriguingly.

Googling the name San Rosa,
I found a sudden spark
Spark of excitement and bizarre
I felt my lips moving
As it read the real name
Rose Maria Santiago on the page

The more I read about her,
She convinced me through life,
Brought up as a peasant girl,
Showed vivid chapters in Joan’s life.

With enlightenment, she turned socialist.
Inspired by the ultimate goal,
Rather than the way chosen,
A rebel was born.

Arms and weapons are the conduits of
Manna for the poor, she believed
Winning against a frowning strata,
Own limitations, lime light cast upon her.





(To be continued…………………)