Poems by Mabel Annie Chacko

The Farmer

a poem by Mabel Annie Chacko

The dawn is here! I climb the hill;
The earth is young and strangely still;
A tender green is showing where
But yesterday my fields were bare…
I climb and, as I climb, I sing;
The dawn is here, and with it- spring!

My oxen stamp the ground, and they
Seem glad, with me, that soon the day
Will bring new work for us to do!
The light above is clear and blue;
And one great cloud that swirls on high,
Seems sent from earth to kiss the sky.

The dawn is here, I climb the hill;
My oxen too seem to thrill-
To feel the mystery of day.
The sun creeps out, and far away
From man-made law I worship God,
Who made the light, the cloud, the sod;
I worship smilingly, and sing!
The dawn is here, and with it – spring!


a poem by Mabel Annie Chacko

The soldier was sitting calmly underneath that tree.
As I approached it, I could see him beckoning to me.
The battle had been long and hard and lasted through the night
And scores of figures on the ground lay still by morning’s light.

“I wonder if you’d help me, Sir” he smiled as best he could.
“A sip of water on this morn would surely do me good.
We fought all day and fought all night with scarcely any rest-
A sip of water for I have a small pain in my chest.”

As I looked at him, I could see the large stain on his shirt
All reddish-brown from his warm blood mixed in with Asian dirt.
“Not much”, said he. “I count myself more lucky than the rest.
They’re all gone while I just have a small pain in my chest.”

“Must be fatigue”, he weakly smiled. “I must be getting old.
I see the sun is shining bright and yet, I’m feeling cold.
We climbed the hill, two hundred strong, but as we cleared the crest,
The night exploded and I felt this small pain in my chest.”

“I looked around to get some aid – the only things I found
Were big, deep craters in the earth – bodies on the ground.
I kept on firing at them, Sir; I tried to do my best,
But finally sat down with this small pain in my chest.”

“I’m grateful, Sir”, he whispered, as I handed my canteen
And smiled a smile that was, I think, the brightest that I had seen.
“Seems silly that a man my size- so full of vim and zest,
Could find himself defeated by a small pain in his chest.”

“What would my wife be thinking of her man so strong and grown,
If she could see me sitting here, too weak to stand alone?
Could my mother have imagined, as she held me to her breast,
That I’d be sitting HERE one day with this pain in my chest?”

“Can it be getting dark so soon?” He winced up at the sun.
“It’s growing dim and I thought that the day had just begun.
I think, before I travel on, I’ll get a little rest…
And, quietly, the boy died from that small pain in his chest.

I don’t recall what happened then. I think I must have cried,
I put my arms around him and I pulled him to my side;
And, as I held him to me, I could feel our wounds were pressed
The large one in my heart, against the small one in his chest.

Woodland Wedding

a poem by Mabel Annie Chacko

Travel with me, to the land of dreams,
Where rivers of music, paint rainbow scenes.
And dancing on air, our spirits take flight
Off to a forest, on this special night.

Into a clearing so bright and so gay,
Lit up by lanterns, of firefly display.
A faerie king waits, for his lover so true,
Surrounded by courtiers, all dressed in blue.

And as you look round, more faeries you see,
Flitting through branches, in nearby trees.
Small shining faces, hearts filled with pride,
Patiently waiting, for their faerie king’s bride.

Tension builds up, as the nightingales trill,
And faerie musicians add more to the thrill.
Just when you think, you can’t take anymore,
The air splits asunder, with tremendous furor.

A faerie up high, in the tallest tall tree,
Announces the arrival – of the wedding party.
Fanfares now sound from triumphant horns,
For a carriage that’s pulled by unicorns.

Sitting in comfort, inside her glass coach,
Is a beautiful faerie beyond reproach.
While bluebells are chiming, and harebells ring,
The carriage draws close, and halts by the king.

A ladybird footman, now opens the door,
And his bride sets foot, on the soft moss floor.
Her ladies in waiting, now come to her aid,
To fulfill the promise, they long ago made.

Smiling she turns, to her champion so true,
And they pledge their troth, as young lovers do.
A kingdom enjoys, the wedding banquet,
Around mushroom tables so neatly set.

A feast of honey and blackberry wine,
Strawberries and grapes, plucked fresh from the vine.
Blessed with wisdom, by an old faerie earl,
The forest rang out; with the word – Tulipearl!

The faerie musicians play liquid tunes.
That splash and tinkle, their way to the moon.
The feasting all over, time now to dance,
To celebrate life, see how they all prance.

The king leads his queen, while courtiers sing,
Charms of good fortune, and all that they bring.
While faeries whirl round, this beautiful sight,
Laughing and singing, on through the night.

With heads full of wine, and joy in their hearts,
The king and his queen, now turn to depart.
Well-wishers cheer, as the coach pulls away,
Together they’ll stand, to face a new day.

The firefly lanterns, go out one by one,
Replaced by the light, of a golden new dawn.
Small tired bodies, with eyes full of sleep,
Gently flit home, with secrets to keep.

And while they slumber, in their tiny beds
Dreams of the wedding, now fill their heads,
And just like the faeries, our time has come,
For us to go too, and return back home.

We traveled in spirit, to the land of my dreams,
Where rivers of music, paint rainbow scenes;
And when we awake, the message unfurls,
There’s no greater feeling, than Tulipearl…

Under the Blanket of Darkness

a poem by Mabel Annie Chacko

The dark winds took the sun away,
And darkness fell, there was no ray,
Of light and warmth upon the earth,
And great was suffering and dearth.

Foiros gave back her life and strength
To follow her path in all its length,
In front of Caelereth, day by day,
Will never cease to go her way.

Though now she dives in darkness deep,
Her path at dawn is strong and steep-
With might and power she rises high
All living breathes of relief a sigh.
This primal night was long and hard
And silent soon, no singing bard
Brought life and warmth to any hearth
And frozen lay the dying earth.

But this was not the night we praise,
The night in favour our words we raise.
The one who soothes our daily pain
And ends all things we did in vain.

The night we love, she gives us rest
We may lie down, she does her best
To drive away all troubles of the day
For unloved chores she grants delay.

So let us not forget what we have seen,
Nor wish the time so dark had never been.
Be thankful for the sun to have returned,
But also for the night we gladly earned.

For if the sun would not set down
To hide her glaring golden crown-
As it was true in times of yore-
Would be the calming night no more.

A Soul’s Musical Bliss

a poem by Mabel Annie Chacko

Voyages of mystical musicians, rhyming reasons to discover,
Explorers of beauty and always a lover,
For all of life’s mysteries are blowing on the breeze,
Spirit sets our compass, we choose the degrees.

The moments are dear, precious and few,
Serenades of life, make our wishes come true,
Conducted by love from horizons of blue,
Beyond our reaches orchestrations of tenderness renew.

Harmonic drifts on vapors of melodic charm,
Soothing strings harps pluck celestial calm,
Romantic blossoms bud, notes new born,
Visions of grandeur roll the drummers storm.

Melody of paradise surround our golden bowl,
Compositions of joy ring out from beau bells toll,
Musical bliss, dancing flashes flame from the soul,
Minstrels of nature, in Gods peaceful park, beating hearts stroll.

Journey to a Mystic Land

a poem by Mabel Annie Chacko

There is a path that leads to a tavern,
Where you get all the pleasures of life.
Where ale flows freely into mugs and goblets
And friendly words greet as you go by.

Oh! it is down by the foot of the mountain,
Where the cold water runs so clear.
Where the cerubell dances softly
In a breeze of cool night air.

The way there goes over stone and rock,
And under shadows of silver clad trees.
Golden streaks from the shining inn
Filtering softly through thousands of leaves.

The inn’s song will kindly lead me,
While a fairy tells of the warming sun.
And time will pass fast as I wander,
Soon encountering a door will let me in.

A hand lifts to slowly push it open,
So I can enter with tired steps.
A chair and rest I find after the walk
And a ear that will listen to my tale.

A New Dawn

a poem by Mabel Annie Chacko

Lie abed Earth’s grassy cradle
Bid welcome her embrace as you lay
Feel Mother Nature’s gentle caress
As she breathes life unto a new day.

Draw in the offering of her essence
Let it enfold you as you breath
The entrancing perfume of the blossoms
The aged aroma of the trees.

Gaze upon the canopy of heaven
Bear aloft your spirit to the sky
Stars parlous wink as night-tide yields
And Mother Earth lets go a sigh.

Herald in your heart a joyous song
Join the birds, sing melodically as one
Lifting their voices high and pure
In serenade to awaken the sun.

Cast aside your earth bound burdens
Sense that creation is yawning
Revel in the sun, glory in the gifts
Nature’s quickening, a new day dawning.

To be a Bird

a poem by Mabel Annie Chacko

As I sit here this evening,
I wish I were a bird,
And all my chirping songs,
Would around the world be heard.

I could use my very special wings,
To soar so far and high;
I would fly above the tallest trees,
And head toward the sky.

I wouldn’t stay up very long,
That wouldn’t be my style,
I’d stop along my journey,
And visit feeders for awhile.

So, keep the feeders full of seeds,
For one day out of the blue,
When I need to stop and rest a bit,
I might come and visit you.


a poem by Mabel Annie Chacko

A gentle breeze brushes the trees;
The scent of roses fills the air.
Leaves flutter idly in the wind,
Dappling the warm noon sunlight
On the soft grass below.

I lie with my face to the sky,
Its jewel-like blue dazzling me
Before I close my eyes
To soak up the warmth of the sun,
Letting my thoughts wander where they will.

The grass tickles my bare feet,
And the breeze tugs at my hair.
I feel such a comforting warmth on my face,
Yet a pleasant coolness on my back.

I am perfectly content,
Lazily shifting to find more sun,
And I wonder why people always
Search for Heaven in the blue vault above
When they can find it here on earth,
For this is surely it.


a poem by Mabel Annie Chacko

What does tomorrow hold,
Will it lead me to more pain,
Will it bring the happiness I long for,
Or will I again spend my time in vain.

Tomorrow seems so frightening,
It could destroy my life,
It could set my spirit free,
Or could be another day of strife.

Unknown tomorrows, why do they exist,
They seem to be useless,
They seem to be confusing,
And yet God continues these daily test.

Tomorrows with paths that have no markings,
Tomorrows with fog that covers the way,
Tomorrows that have lost all guidelines,
Tomorrows full of Dangers and Hurt.

There seems only to be darkness without a sunrise,
There seems only to be rain with no flowers yielded,
There seems only to be turmoil without peace,
Only loneliness even among the crowd.

God, please direct the ways I cannot see,
Help me to find the right roads to take,
Help me to see the sun through the current fog,
Let me survive the unknown tomorrows.

Then Sings My Soul

a poem by Mabel Annie Chacko

Echoes of splendor, the shadows of dawn,
Filled with such beauty, awakens the morn,
To a sky filled with color, in brilliant array,
Soft hues of light, begins a new day.

A chorus of nature, awakens the place
Refreshed with a beauty, alive with the grace,
Replenishing splendor, ascends with the sun,
The birth of the day; the symphony’s begun.

Then sings my soul, in praise to His name,
For His awesome power, in a life He’s ordained
The beauty of nature, for us to share
His glorious creation, is seen everywhere.

Birds of the air, life in the trees
Adorning with nature, His touch in the breeze
The radiant blessing, of His abundance
Renewed in the morning, as life starts to dance.

The symphony of nature, alive with His grace,
Exuberant beauty, seen in this place
Echoes creation, of this great land
Filled with the promise, and touch of His hand.

Then sings my soul, my praises to Him,
With thanks in abundance, I give unto Him
All glory and honor,for all that I see,
His breath in creation, A sweet symphony

On the Path of Life

a poem by Mabel Annie Chacko

Many roads I have traveled, many thoughts I have had,
Some have been good and some have been bad.
Many choices I’ve made in the face of temptation,
None easily made or without hesitation.

Though all seemed right at the time they were made,
I had no way to know that many were forbade.
At the time they were made I was the lamb that was lost,
Falling prey to the wolves I suffered great loss.

But as God has known since the beginning of time,
‘Twas the way He would bring me to this destiny of mine.
He knew in the end His love would win out,
Bad thoughts in my mind, He’d block them all out.

Though He knew I would stray it would not be for long,
For He knew in the end I’d be singing His song.
He knew that His love was deep in my heart,
And He knew that we’re friends and that we’d never part.

So with His love rekindled, burning deep in my soul,
My problems will dwindle, He has made me whole.
And though I’ve no way to know what life will bring,
A glorious new song my heart will sing.

For God’s love will win out over all of the rest
His sights set high, He’ll make me the best.
I’ve found my way back, I’ve finally come home,
And I hope and I pray, no more will I roam.

The Festival of Lights

a poem by Mabel Annie Chacko

Today’s the “Festival of Lights” all’er;
A joyful day for minds and hearts and souls;
And people throng the Temples to offer,
Prayers, resolving to take better roles.

And most of them are richly clad and clean,
And eat such dainty foods and sweets with mirth;
Whilst noisy crackers burst, their lights are seen,
It seems to be a happy day on Earth!

But are there not hearts woe-filled, very sad?
Denied of laughter, smiles for days;
Today’s the triumph of Good over bad;
But what about the wastage in much ways?

True joy is when you see someone else smile,
True charity gives joy in Heavenly style.

Season of Lights

a poem by Mabel Annie Chacko

Dunes of vapors from crackers rise,
Engulf, as odorous airs resound
Effusing joys to all abound
Pearls of gleams in these autumn nights
Adorn our lives else trite
With sparklers that motley skies
As soaring spirits of powder wander
Let us thank the heavenly might,
In this festive season of lights.

The Havest of Thoughts

a poem by Mabel Annie Chacko

Walking wearily through the wilderness,
Distant sounds dancing in peculiarness.
Through darkened trees void of rejoice,
Came to me what seemed to be a voice.

Curiosity calling me nearer,
Per chance to hear these whispers clearer.
Through the shadows seeing figures drawn,
I didn’t realize what I’d stumbled upon.

“Burn the witch, evil must die!”
The forest reiterated the crowd’s cry.
“The needle hath brought forth the stigma,
An enchantress of spells and hell’s enigma”

I saw them spit on a soft white face,
Around her neck a crucifix in place-
To remove all her powers of spell,
To take with her and burn in hell.

Ropes began rubbing the flesh raw,
Cutting into her skin like a saw.
Down bruised cheeks tender tears rolled,
From blue eyes flowing, unconsoled.

Even tighter yet these ropes were pulled,
The wicked lady having no-one fooled.
In agony she screamed towards a calm sky,
“Don’t let them kill me, I don’t wanna die.”

Paralyzed now, in secure fashion-
To the stake which would be her chasten,
And an example to all other witches-
To forfeit their pernicious practices.

She stared at the crowd, both judge and jury,
Enforcing their verdict with fists and fury.
Horrified by such an undeemed ritual,
Performed by bonafide Christians, so spiritual.

“I’m only twenty-one”, she said in desperate tone,
“Who would call me witch for living alone?
Who should levy such judgments on me,
Sentencing me eternally?

“Surely not you but Christ above,
Who has given us this life we love.
Are you not the same enraged crowd that cried-
Out in anger having him crucified?”

“Quiet!” was commanded, silence did beckon.
“Christ will judge us all I reckon.”
The deep voice came from the hooded man,
Brandishing his torch, in sort, a talisman.

Then, with not yet an inch to contact-
The wood to which the flame would contract,
Out of stillness blew forth a gentle breeze,
Which softly doused the flame in squeeze.

The crowd lay still, somewhat awe-stricken.
Their questioning nature beginning to quicken.
An act of nature having them puzzled,
The fear of one woman leaving them muzzled.

Yet the torch soon once again breathed fire,
Set to quench the angry mob’s desire.
Exercising their God-given right-
To see righteousness served this holy night.

How they longed for burning flesh’s stench,
To see crumbling to ashes, the comely wench-
Who dared to share their thoughts and dreaming,
Who dared to fare the life of a human being.

Slowly, painfully the torch descended,
To bring full-well the anguish justice intended.
But, once again, the wind befriended-
The fire who’s life it, again, ended.

The townsfolk grew restive, drawing on fear,
Baffled by a sky now not so clear.
Then the woman began to mumble-
Verses in a voice quite low and humble.

A cloud of darkness swallowed the sky,
As the wind and forest began to cry.
The torch was lit once more in a hurry,
Before a crowd now panicked, set in worry.

Quickly they ran the flame towards her,
Letting it fly across the sky with a blur.
This time the fire finally set and spread,
Consuming the figure from foot to head.

Listening to the blood-curdling scream,
The horde looked on, all eyes a gleam.
In a state of jubilant content-
At the climax of a day so aptly spent.

When the cries finally came to a halt,
The eerie silence seemed to exalt
The mass in awe, still staring on,
At the golden blaze, glowing like dawn.

Then in an instant with a thunderous crash,
A mighty explosion with a blinding flash-
Engulfed the scene, raging with fire,
As to the sky I watched the flames aspire.

Everyone present was undertaken.
The entire crowd died, God-forsaken.
Then the flames slowly withered away,
And the darkened sky gave back the day.

The ashes blew off in the breeze,
Weaving their way throughout the trees.
But the forest lay silent and disdained,
Only echoes of laughter remained.