Archiving my third poem written on 5th Feb 2004

Admist the dark & pouring clouds, she stood laughing
The gory state of her house seemed to be mocking
There she was, where no one else was,
But their amputed legs, hands, skull, surely showed the cause.

She cried, fainted & cried but now she laughed
She was proud of her family because they had faught
The pain and agony was no more a sore
She enlivened her spirit right from the core.

Her eyes reflected a sadistic glee,
With a knife in her hand she let her shyness flee.
Taking a vow that all the killers will be torn,
Agast! yet another terrorist was born.

Venessa

When heaven had closed all doors,
Venessa, sick and tired of all daily chores,
Put down her feet firmly on the green ground,
Dropped her grass cutting sickle with a pound.

Today was the day she had to decide,
What had been keeping her busy all this while?
Was her entire life to be dedicated to grass cutting?
Was her worth to be counted only by a few sterlings?

She knew that she was bright and intelligent,
That she'll go places and one day will own all she'd ever want.
But why is that day to be kept so far?
Why does she have to wait even for a single minute in this mar?

So Venessa, without any plans but donning a smile of confidence,
Set her foot for the first time outside the green pastures and the silver fence.
With just a small rugsack containing all her belongings,
She finally saw the world with all its whining.

Was there any more happiness available elsewhere where people didn't cut grass for a living?
Did people smile and chirp like her despite her mundane job of grass cutting?
Even with five years of travel around the whole world, she could not find an answer to please.
So there she is, Venessa, back to grass cutting.