Saturday, November 10, 2018

After Guardian( Green Boughs)

   After  Guardian  ( Green Boughs)

My young friends  are dead,
My beloved old generation,
my  bosom pals, strong pillars,
shoulders  right in earnest
moments of grief and  glue,
dipped in blue sitting on the
edge of  sad contemplation.
Girls unwed, those wedded
Loyal to their young exuberant
masters,  now bereaved, in soil
of sacrifice and warfare for the
sake of nation’s honor and pride.   
With sanguine thought steering
always the appropriate path;
All are gone, now;  Peace  and
Glory be to them all. Elders
Now rule the roost,always governed
by stupid rules, stringent laws
over the nation of  historic pride;
“And all my own generation
They have cast into the fire”.

Friday, November 09, 2018

Within a prison of four walls

Within a  prison of four walls

Me  a convict within a
Cell of four walls, all the
Time watching and hearing me.

I am a listener of my own
Heartbeat, faster than sentinels;

Don’t ask me how I landed there;
rounded up in streets by cops
along with others as unruly elements.

Other cases of criminals, not proven,
another cell, lathis and wailings of
shock treatments, pangs of brutal deaths.

A man at the corner has his own moorings:
This vast world, a  shell for us,
Our deeds or misdeeds.

Visitor hours our time of  bliss!
else, a doleful day of guilt and corrosion,

ruling our passions, also guiltless moments;     
why his life? Why hypocrisy? Why
relentless move and meaningless clatter?

Besides, digging, watering, gardening
we have  to dig into many a dark cells,
water our hardened, palsy smitten spaces

of discussions and dingy rooms, stuffed
with irate ruminations clear up fast.
Heaven or haven,we have to make.


Sunday, November 04, 2018

Strike it up Tabor

Strike it up Tabor

 Strike it up Tabor
We are in  party galore,
moods of singing and dancing roar
Strike it up Tabor,
well tuned strings afore.

My spirits  go about the maypole,
I will be blithe and  brisk,
Hop skip and  jump,
roll over the pole,
merge and mingle in the crowd.

My joints don’t ache,
my thews  grow strong,
We are in a frenzied
 Dancing mood.

Saturday, October 27, 2018

Three poetess ( Guardian)

Three  poetess ( Guardian)

Three poetesses dressed in
full decorum, around polished
oval shaped table, group their
discussions on poetry and meter.

Suddenly   a man comes
 through  the back door
 on friendly note and terms,
smiles to begin a conversation.

Is he a poet, or a stranger?
a wizard, a  snow man dripping ?
or  a sage or miracle man
tying talisman to the needy?

The three are alive to the
Situation yet converse in
full throated ease, their
point of view tapping the Muse.

Just as  the door, air peeps in
and out, their books glow
turn the pages, the mirror
opposite reflect all in grandeur.

As he came, the figure walked out.

Friday, October 19, 2018

After---- Manhattan by Lola Ridge

After---- Manhattan by Lola Ridge

Out of the night,you burn, burn,
City’s attraction and fame
attracting vast tourists like
A sudden flame, numinous  
In its burning through :

Capturing markets and trade centers
Just as Gold in uppermost corners
Shining with a glow and  spark;
Jades and  blues almost fanning
Sky’s jubilant star kingdom.

Diaphanous gold in tall towers,
in stock markets  and  chambers
Of commerce   and   storied buildings
change hand to hand in different modes.
Trading  soaring into dizzy heights!

Nebulous gold, example of ephemeral
glory and vanishing principles rampant
in gambling and business shifts and lifts
mechanical in up and down exercises.

Still you glow glow into
ever-increasing charm
of full blown harvest nodding.

Friday, October 12, 2018

After Guardian ( A corner of the road)

After Guardian   ( A corner of the road)

As  I have  a  stroll in the wake
Of pristine Dawn, cool moon
Still shining, a gangly rose bush
Five flowers of hope and opulence
Spreading  aura along the pathway.

Constellation of the  Goat is there
glowing like  a message of   Messiah!
No drought! Water flows and pink
Blooming! but suddenly I witness
A reverse elsewhere “The ditch ran ink”

Is it due to the soil or the times?
Diurnal falling slow, night shadowed
by another shadow; I began to see,
me in helpless predicament. A ray

of  Hope  in the white sky
“Constellation of the Goat is there”

Wednesday, October 10, 2018

A Spirit breathes in

A  Spirit breathes in

It is not a  black granite
or  carved  idols  of some
Indian  deities we worship
by offerings of sandal paste,
fragrant flowers and holy waters,

It is not a blotched plant,
bunch of sacred leaves,
d├ęcor adorning the  urn,
sprinkles holy all around
the venerable spot of Belief,

Not the Mantra chanting
aloud  or  Vedic recitals
of scholars and erudite pundits,
propitiating   Gods and  angels
throughout the day from Dawn,

neither the offerings of
puddings and   rice cakes
of jaggery and pure ghee
flowing in plantain leaves
or holding in sacred vessels,

mind wandering elsewhere,
application rescinded or duplication
entertained with currency embalmed
in  conscience of convenience,
but a Firm Dedicated Spirit

of Absolute Surrender to  HIS WILL
that prevails His Domain and care.