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Array
(
[sid] => 7575
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => Preachers Of Love
[time] => 2002-11-27 20:03:28
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Preachers Of Love
by Ashraf Gohar Goreja Long stemmed flowers, White gloves and silver magic sticks. Youthful, young people Dressed up in enchanting cloaks. Colorful and bright. Muffled up against The chill of evening winds, Holding banners, Flags, Colors of which had faded, When twilight darkened, With ghostly shade. They stretched their hands, Towards the sky, Open, vast, unblemished blue. Realm of Greatness. And plaques! With casted rings, Glittered alike, Clustering mid-night stars. As bright, As the colors of Mars. Followers, supporters and bonded lovers, Encircled by them all. Marching with grace, Dignity and pride, Rigorous strive, Hustled, And rushed, Towards the City Hall. After a long march through The narrow, Crocked, Curving, Hustling, Street, Ended at the steep. There emerged suddenly. A yelping group of people, Filled with plaudits pride, Embellished they were, As newly wed bridge. Crowd was enthusiastic, Their hearts filled of joy, Stood straight, Like a patriotic was deployed. "Welcome ...Welcome" A breaking sound suddenly roared. "Whooped and howled" the entire crowd. Marching band, Made its way, Towards an aging, but gracefully, Dilapidating, Building. That stood in the middle of town, For years bye gone. As a symbol of Justice, Hope, peace and love for all. And to glorify, The honor of the citizens, And dweller all around. "Welcome! My boys and girls. Welcome!" Pronounced, An elderly but tactful man. Refined in manners, Urbanized himself, In the life span. Stood beside him, An old but feeble man. Shabby,wrinkled artier. Decorated, With decals and Badges of all kinds, One could hardly find. Weak and frail, Polite but firm, and Determined not to fall. Both looked towards each other, With their grim, lurid and tired eyes. Their gaze conveyed a Secret Massage. Which non of others Had a slightest clue. They looked and looked, In the eyes of one another. They smiled, And smiled again. As they were symbols of old glory Heroes of the past. Still young, At the heart. Together they winked. Stretching their fingers towards the sky. Giving another broad smile. Bound they were to whisper, They whispered in a musical sound, Pleasure deep in their hearts they found. All above. "Preacher of Love". Copyright, September 12, 2002. By Ashraf Gohar Goreja [comments] => 1 [counter] => 150 [topic] => 19 [informant] => gohar [notes] => [ihome] => 1 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => InspirationalPoems )
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