A Take on Guardian’s Present Tense ‘’ A sweet time, to be Alive and unalone,’’

A Take  on  Guardian’s    Present  Tense  ‘’ A sweet  time, to be Alive  and  unalone,’’

It is   a perfect  sweet  time ,to be alive,

Unalone, surrounded  by the Tappings  of Muse,

Not  cloyed   by the  fervour of   knowledge or

Mystic  revelations   abound  in  day to day

Stunning    events; To  be alive, is  to taste

The  Manna  of   Heaven’s nurture, to  profoundly

Read  the meaning  of His  Design, delving

Into  the  unresolved  Nature  of  our

  Karma, also     Karma  of  cosmic  creation.

Karma  of  Consciousness  too.

Understanding  our  Grace  immaterial ,

Knowing  His   Grace is essential.

Now  the  time  is  verdant,

Feel  the touch of  jasmine,

Smell  the  succulent  grapes

On  the  diaphanous  vials.

To be alive in the religious ,

Unseen presence, pervasive

Mythical Maker, is double boon.

                                                                                                                

                                                                                                                                                    

A Take on Guardian's Anniversary by John Donne.

    A  Take on  Guardian’s Anniversary by  John  Donne.

   ‘’  Running it never runs from us away,’’

 Faith  and  patience running  in  others,

Likewise,like   two eyes, faith  and patience,

Running  slow  and getting  diluted,

But never run   away  from  us.

Faith  and patience  run  the test of  time,

 In  some  others   also ,  but   run  after  money   and matter,

They  get  twisted, twist in other’s   lives,

Only   to face    defeat  and  distorted   vision.

But  they  never  run   away  from  us,

For   we   have  the  ways   of  God.

When three 'U's are there..

When    three   ‘U’ s  are   there...

Interview, curfew, and  ICU ,

Mostly we appear  to be   Morons

Not  knowing  His   Will.

 Where  our   suffering  and  

 God’s    Subterfuge   or  success

  if   ordained, divinely bound  

That  way, make  us  sit  on that                 

Cordoned  or  cornered

 Passage, with  a   helpless   look,             

Seething   fear  and  shiver,

Running in    us   cap- a- pie.

Sometimes, life  surpasses

Takes    Its  own  course,

Bypassing  these

Seemingly  surgical  tests.

These  days, three  ‘U’s

are  intertwined  most.  

A Take on '' I bear all water of thy soil ''from Guardian

A  take on    ‘’ I bear all water of thy soil’’ from  Guardian

Good  neighborhood,  good  relatives in friends,

Healthy air, mangoes  and  guavas in

My ancestral home garden.

My centenary  building  is  located

In good soil, good well ,good earth.

I have oft seen my grandfather

Sinking well in  times of drought,

Water springing  glossy, forcible,            

Even water which   I use for

Washing  hands –pure and white.

Not  the   ‘’ little water  of  Macbeth’’

Looks  as if   Mother   Earth  answers

I bear all the waters of thy soil.

At  times my neighbors share

My well   free  and frank,

In these days when we

Buy water ,water in cans.

I owe   my ritualistic  gratitude

To the soil which  says

‘’I bear all   water of thy soil.’’

Good  soil, good neighbourhood.

North why?

                     North   why?

        

       The   River   flows   in the North,

       The salutary Wind blows  from 

       the  North, also  the  cobwebs of

       earthly  angularities, a  savior  in time.

       Elders  say  North   has a mythical  grandeur

       a  supernatural  noble  mystic aura,

       driving  you with a   full  fledged  vigor, 

        It  is  the  seamless  North   that   drags,

        Sustains   a  civilization of  ageless  ethos.

        It is a  suave   of  cloying, melting  sweetness 

        That  moves  along   with the  ripples 

       That  allow  the cranes  and fish to fly/ply.   

         Young  urchins    swath  around

          Spot  a  cluster of   Boobies.

         What  more  spectrum   of delight for

          you  to  watch  and weave  a  song of

          Come April  ! April  shines in summer cap.

          You walk towards the direction, the

          North  and  wind go in history          

          as you unwind the history of

         Your hamlet,your  stay  and catch.        

         Your direction is clear now.                    

              

A Take on ''it Never entered my Mind '' from Guardian.

                        A  Take on  '  It Never  entered  my  Mind ' from Guardian 

                            It   never  entered my  Mind,

                           Until  after  much of cogitations,

                           I scratched  the cerebellum,

                           Cells   be  proactive,

                           Tap  the  vital  source  of

                          Introspection, it  is  an  agile

                         Fermentation  Magnet,

                         You  taste the filtered  decoction,

                         The Essence of  Memory,

                         Light  the  candle of   incandescence

                                 And  smile of  serenity .

                       

Lovelorn

      Love lorn

How  oft   I have  seen  the  wrinkled, marooned

Crammed  in    old  age   homes, their  beds ,

Bedspreads   more  caring   than  their eyesore 

The  warmth  of  share ,entwines

 More  than  the    uncomly, the kith  and kin.

These  ‘homes’  are  their  real    ‘homes’.

In their  own  homes,  they were  sunken  flesh, 

Bundle  to be  packed  and cordoned off.

Eyes   almost  closed ,deprived  of  sight,

Dried  all   tears. These  eyes  care  them  less,

 For  they  are   spent   force . The candelabra

Above   restrict  not   their  days,

Instead  increase   their longing   to live

On   this  beautiful   Earth. This  Earth  

Suffices, somewhere,   what is lost.

How   It holds    the lovelorn,

Earthbound, they   are unable

To   fly. They  cannot  be away

For   IT  holds  them good.

Janet The Gull

              1)     JANET   THE GULL.              

It  is  heavily built,

As heavy as a sea rock

Befriends    eagerly,   regular   on  the same,

Me   too, a loner, wondering  the  surf :

A mystical ,ceaseless  gyration.

 How  often  we   view  this  watery giant

With  its unending mouths,in  spectacular  awe.

I construed  it  as  something ,

Voicing,  not  dashing   and  receding,    

  The   aeons   of ageless ,unending process,

Augmenting    the impeccable  SHRISHTI   of   Creation,          

The    web   footed ,Spiralling  its  heavy wings,

 Shades , the, shimmering  pebble

Tossed   and  settled  on the  sand dunes.

Perhaps  the  whips,  might have brought

The pebble  to this  end. In  the  darkening

Scenario,   this pebble  is a  mover, Carter

Of   the    Charter of  realization.

Still ,how many , business like

On the edge  of  the  boundary,

I know  not. Now  the  roar

 Continues   To   silence  us .

Micro poems (set one)

Micro  poems. Set one

Rain

I stand  in the centre of my  garden,

Down pour of  Rain,

Splashes  on the  ground,

Some storage, much wastage,

Unless  there is   rainwater  scheme.

Mercy, I feel  on  Me.

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 Micro poem  2

   The  Blind

All your sufferings

Setbacks  pale into

Insigficance, when

You  see  the Blind

Taps in front of you.

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        Life and  Death.3

Death   taught  them

The    Meaning  of  life.

But  Life  failed  to  teach 

Them  the  pitfalls  

Of   existence  and  mystery.

-----------------------------------

 Parrot  and   its  Maker.  4

The   Bird  is  His  dutiful   Right

His  care    its   Bounteous  Gift,

It  chirps, pecks  and pours,

A hall  mark of   Gratitude

To   Shaper  of  Destiny.

----------------------

The  purple  hour.  5

   

  In the purple  hour,

 That  evening,  ambered 

 Sun  beckoned me

A  bright  dawn soon.

  Window.  6

  Window! Keep it open,

Wind   and whisper

Come and go, free ,unchecked,

What   stays    is

 Dust  and  Truth.

Dark  7.

      Dark   

Ever  since  Creation, Dark

Is  always  there, to vie  with. 

My  dark  is dovetailed   Innocence,

Darker is   Ignorance,

Bright  is   the  Boon

Fighting   The  Bane.

Black (theme)    8

Black is my pal crow ,
visits my balcony
regular and my console,
grains are my duty, charity.
its absence even a day,
tears my mood and am
lifeless clay

A Take on ''Things for which God knows I'm a soft Touch''

         A   Take  on   ‘’Things  for  which God  knows  I’m  a  soft   touch .’’

  God  knows   I’m  a soft  touch,

 Though   I am  inundated  in  things 

 Of   rigor   and rigmarole,

Stifling me   with   a  rope of 

Crudity ,imposed  servile   morbidity ,

These  are  things   which will not 

Touch  me; ruffle me.

God  knows  I ‘m a  soft   touch.

Questionings   and cross   questioning

Turgid  readings    into  Golden  sayings,

I can  see  hardships  far  beyond 

My  will to  endure,

Yet, God  knows  I’m a  soft  touch.

This  fabulous  gentle ,sudden

Miraculous   Advent  of  An Ambassador,

This is   what  I call not merely

Visionary , but an envisioned

Scenario  by  Him   The  Seer,

Maker  and   Baker. His  is  Gentle  Touch.