Apple--modern cinquain

Apple
red, rotten,
stinking, decolouring, shrinking,
unwholesome dish on the plate, inedible, a toy of show of an
Apple.

Behind everything

Behind the heavy laden donkey,
donkey to bear the brunt of
man’s wear, wear and tear,
behind the uploaded load,
there is karma;

Behind the cat’s surreptious, silent
preying upon the mouse, behind
the cunning paw, the cat being chased
to being drowned in the well,
there is karma ;

Behind those innocent eyes
with devouring ambition,
ambition negatively enthralling you,
cutting passion for possession
there is karma;

Behind the wheels of those
broken chair, bearing the
broken people, the mechanical
wheels still wheeling around
there is still karma.

Her bent feet, paralysed,
Steadied in the sands of
the long beaches ,may be
the sands of Time’s healing,
this is Kama’s will;

Karma is still, not vociferous,
Still, karma is here.

Twilight

In that evening when twilight of
the mood of my life has set in,
I craved for sun’s rays resplendent,
longing for and more and more,
longing for what? Absolute peace
and serenity, inclined philosophical,
queried of the past,
unhappy ,unethical surroundings,
why this damp, dampening
my spirits, jejune and colourless,
in the wake of dusk,
craving for another dawn,
twilight is a must in all .

His voices of Whispers

I hear His voices of whispers
in the rustling of leaves,
in watchwords or catchwords,
gyrating from within,
are they voices I hear?
They are His whispers
auditory to your
benumbed senses,
in the rustling of weaves,
singing a lullaby to your
broken heart,
in the melody of the
chorus of humming birds,
His whispers of comfort,
in the crumbs of bread
Pieces, in the teething
humanity of airports,
His whispers of protection,
in the wailing of the
Newborn , uncared for,
in the garbage mound,
I see His care,
whispers of protection,
when the world whimpers,
He whispers from
morn till noon,
whispers, whispers
to wipe our tears.

Faith in GOD

Faith in GOD is
A gift either ingrained
from birth, breaths
through embryo,
or chiselled by
experience, pricked
by thistles and thimbles,
cutting across your
smooth sail,
faith alone sustains you,
faith to be nurtured
in constant meditation,
if forayed into agitation
lands you in perdition,
Faith and fear in GOD
Only doors of SALVATION.

Hope

Hope.
Hope , like sprinklers
in my garden, rose and jasmine
withering and upfront ,
hope sits on my flattened body,
beckons my half dead will,
resuscitates to catapult
to the stars.
Hope by itself, a new leaf,
A new breath, a new life,
A new arena, spiralling,
A warming up, there were days
when I sat in a corner dismayed,
Hope like those sprinklers
revived my debunk spirits,
hope counsels , ‘’all you need to do
get up and , go to the garden,
today dry soil, barren stem,
tomorrow flowers blooming.
Hope, hope and hope .''

She is a lost soul

Words glare and stare,
In black and white
In bold and boisterous,
rise and roll from the agile
Key-board: ideas obstreperous
and mellifluous shoot out
for a proper formatting,
like a swathing starfish;
a skeleton of panic ,
atrocious sinful
looming large ,
She is bewildered,
She is a lost soul.

You had to go

Every day I commute the
Same laborious path,
Up and down,
Why should I feel the tedium?
for it is mechanical for my feet
to walk , mind laden with
thoughts of yesteryears ;
the togetherness of seven years
I could not forget,
It was a much lively,
Smooth path of love
and understanding,
now it is all of thimbles,
you had to go ,
for the call came from
your father , old-timer,
to appease your
father’s choice,
you had to go.

Beauty

Your thirty year old
draws a sketch , his
Brush is dexterous,
Paints with ebullient
Colures, frames it,
hangs on the wall,
a thing of beauty
to watch on the
wall , a wall decor,
three year old
grandson vies his
father, quickly
takes all the brushes,
patches wild on the
paint board criss cross,
scribbles on the
whit e paper fast,
sings to himself,
a thing of beauty more
to watch and share,
At the dawn, a stroll
in your beautiful garden
Of scented flowers,
humming birds by
the feeder, your
hands refuse to pluck
those flowers of beauty,
you are afraid that
you are spoiling the
beauty of something!
Daisies and violets
intertwine to serenade,
a thing of beauty ,
things of beauty
all around us.







,

If there were to be no garden of Eden---

If there were to be no garden of Eden,
No luscious fruits of ruddy apples forbidden,
No fall, no life of strife,
No perpetuation of progeny,
No sinning amidst syrups and juices,
Yet, man invents oranges
to make a melange
of a new group of entity,
to fertilize another vicious
mound, on this earth,
a garbage full of stinking piles,
his private garden.

Requiem to a woman

Praise be to the woman,
Peace be to the woman,
May Heavens shower their
Choicest Blessings on the woman
who was enslaved, tortured,
done to horrendous death,
held in captivity, not knowing
what for she was suffering,
cause hidden, commerce continued,
stigmatised, cornered,
cunning and crafty those parasites,
Those obnoxious intruders
who plundered and amassed,
leeches, another lineage to
Faustus selling their conscience
to the sinister devil,
blood sucking continues,
amidst devils’ chuckling.

I am timeless

I am timeless
Privileged to be at His Altar,
I came with Him,
The Devout chime me
at the church,
I sink in the hospital
warden’s meticulous care,
Timer in the visitor’s lounge,
I am in the time bomb,
Your wrist decorates me
In a golden case,
London’s BIG BEN, rings me
In rhythmic chanting,
I go by His Universal Command,
He ordains me to draw a line
when to make it a deadline,
I am timeless and dateless.

From illuion to Reality

I sit on the winged Maya,
also called illusion spiralling,
in and around, gauzy something,
to quench my thirst in the nearby
river, it is again only a mirage
I realize Maya has taken
me for a ride, me looking backwards,
but it marches along ,forging
Ahead, I get dropped
in search of reality,
waving my hand , bid farewell.