A Take on “ A deal in every aisle, every hour ,every day...”

 A  Good deal in every aisle, every hour, every day,

 Shoppers  plan to stack up things for the month.             

The  prestigious, Supermarket   is busy  and the

Accustomed   visit  the  cuisine  and  garment ,

Grand  and good  Offers, Gifts free

to deal with  the best  selection.

My Muse, my  Calliope,is   agile as ever,

To weave a poem out of this  shop.

Incredibly eager shoppers  queue for billing.

There are no abandoned sandwich but

Prominently  strewn, crumbled bills, printout   

Of  ID proofs, The sun was slowly behind the orb:

I am pushing my trolley out.

There is  throb, every hour, every day.

             Between The Blades Of Grass..

         Between the Blades Of Grass,

         You fly like  a horse,

        Trample  upon them, those   whispers,            

        They  heed   Not   your  hot  tempers,                  

        They  bend   and  rise  above,                                                         

        Grisly  world  of  multiple  move.                           

        This  world of  tricky   cove                                             

        You have to abrogate  to   ahead move.                       

       

        A  Take On Guardian’s “  Like the watchful eye of the Law”.

   Every human should know his/ her/ own quarters,

  Limitations; universally, everlastingly, set by primordial

 Governing principle of His  Scheme.

It is just as every   artifact  has  its own boundaries.

Beyond  the  glitter and twinkle of the

Stars  and this galaxy, this unfoldable  carpet,

There is a watchful eye of the Law,

Catches you by the neck  on Time.

It brings out  the growing  sinister, insidious,

Silent   doings  of   harmful  Nature.

We  all must know to carry  our own weight

Through  the  proper channel  of our

Illumined quarters, to sing  along   the

Song of  The Glory Of God.

 The Watchful Eye Of  The  Law

Spins  its reins slow  but  sure.

The Glass Bowl

       The   glass bowl 

I  want  to  gather   and  stuff   all

My aches  into  this   glass  bowl

Of supine nature, for it  only reflects,

Can it  alleviate? I  need  to  Brush

  aside  these  pests;

The  basket ball from afar

Tumbles  this  cute  holder of 

My aches. It is not broken.

It is keen on reflecting.

His Advent

        

                      His  Advent

After  all  the  small  harmless  pleasures

Of  Coke  and  Chess  and  T.V.mega  serial,

I, both tired of  body  and  Soul’s anguish,

Took  my quill   and  writing  pad.

With   full unspoiled   care and  affection,

Thou in  saffron  robe, warmth of concern.

To listen  to  my  angst, to  alleviate, came. 

Proven  the  Voices  prophetic  above.

He  sent  The  ardent   Ambassador.

Glowing  with  wisdom, prediction

Of  assured  protection,  Thou give

Scriptural  injuction.Miracle  it was, it is.

All  the  Good,  Needy get  solaced  now.

Residing  in my  heart, ever  vigilant,

“furnish  and deck my soul”.Thou  mayest

Give  a  better  abode of  celestial   stay there.

2)   Home My Home

      

It is My Home, my privileged   Home,

Within  four  walls  of  innate  room,

Innate, you move about  free of  concern,

Chanting  mantras  sincere  and   taciturn ,                               

At the end of   the day, what  is most   heeded,                            

 His Solace, His Supreme  Grace, is needed.        

 My home, it is not brick and mortar,

A  safe   mode of  garter   ever  and  ever.  

                                                                                  

     Cat

Come! My dear  soft. Spongy like cat.

Again fresh from my memory 

Of those  golden days  of  my grandma;

your Most affectionate ,endearing feeder,

Fender.  Your soft  paw, silent,

Visited us, silent  as a   good  sufferer, those days.

I   have seen you playing with the

 Cute   plastic, small ball.

How  often you would  sit close by that

Grand old good lady, waiting for  the

Rice balls   offered affectionately to you,

How often your “metal- and marble –mix eyes”

Would  view the surroundings  with  a wary,

Cautionary look. Liked your mewing,

You can be cruel too like a heartless  lady;

Would  run  away with  a  chic of  a  sparrow

Catch by the  helpless hanging neck,

Or the rattling  rat, victimised by

The sudden swoop of your paws.

When you gave birth to newborn

How would you growl?

You are  a   mix  of  dangerous

  Sweetness Fascinating us.

The Black Parrot

      The  black parrot.

The Black parrot  in my garden,

 Chattering  pours  messages  to broaden

My visions of  world, also  this grisly  load,

To view   and    forthwith  unload,

To  launch   and  prelaunch  a safe

Environmental  bamboo  brocade.

I tend its  wounded  wings

Make  it  fly  with assured  looks,

With its  small  tiny, curious  head,

It   views the world   of amorphous  mead,

 for that is how the  people   construe,

in  full  spirit   further  to  rule,

Yet, The  Seer envisioned  it in   good   stride,

With  a shape and  seem less  Mode of ride.