An Appeal by a Section of Antipodes.

    An  appeal  by  a  section of antipodes.

What can we term appropriately  ourselves?

We  are  creations  of antipodes

My Muse (here)  interprets this way,

In water as opposed  to  land.

Flora  and fauna, jet some  and float some,

Swim   and dive  and weather  the storm

And serenade and  snug  in the  slime.

Oh! Man and  beings on Land,

You can be proud of many global

Achievements, but when thirst

Afflicts you, or burns your throat,

You come to water, quench your

Thirst  and some even  take us

For  food.  By providential Will

 we  are destined thus: We  have no

indulgence in politics.  We are always

silent sufferers. You  fight  and  peace less,

no  cool, such is  the land life.

Claimant

      Claimant

We  live  in   an illusory

 world of  many claimants ;

eyes , looks  and  arguments  

cannot  bring out  The Truth.

Delve  deep  into  the hidden 

Matter, Only  the  visionary

Can  probe  the reality.

Truth  has  to  maintain  a

Low  profile, for  the fake

Is  vociferous  and  virile.

Tap  the  dormant  and 

Bring  the  claimant  to 

The  lore, I daresay.

A  Take  on  “vada That” by Adam Lowe

  No  Notchy  Munge to plunge him

Into  darkness. No internal  dark for  him

To  come out.He is  clear  headed  and  cool.

Somewhere  there,  brandy smell of  the  gang,

No  fear  for  the Charpering carsey: or police cell.

He  is  not  into  a  crave for  serious love or partner.

He  Worries   how  he  is going  to mend  the offending.

Pondering  for  an  answer. A royal  dignified  life of

Set pattern, he moulds  for  the  future and  wellbeing

Of  the society, he  is part of.

 He   abhors  this  world of  Patter  and pogey.

 His  troll  is  serious  and  meaningful.

In The Midst Of Thinking Herd

     In  the  midst of  thinking  herd

It was  neither a dream, nor  a passing  vision,

But   a  reality tinged with  emotion  and  sympathy.

You  prefer  to  walk to  have  a  reprieve

From  killing  chores and pressures.

These  days  you like  the company of

Serene  and secluded, minding  their own  way,

Harmless; in a  way dumb herds of  cows

And   deer, packed binds  to  that of

Sinister looking mankind who mostly

Thinks in ill  harbouring  way.

Ruminating  in their own way,

herd moves  on.

Looking  at   the slopes of mountains,

God  had created the flowers  and shrubs

For  the sake of  animal  ken. Ripples

By  which  they  rest a while

Always move on .This  is a better home.

Heather They Are.

   2)    Heather They  Are

 In  the  purpled  hour

Of  their  merry make,

After   exhaustion, and when

Awakening taps them,

In the  PURPLE Crying

Of  the Baby, those lessons

And messiah  hinge a  lot.

Heather surround  them

As well, making  them

Heather   and  great.

Could You Be All These?

     Could you  be all these ?

Could  you  be the glow worm

To emit bright  aura in pitch  dark?

Can  you become recharged torchlight

When am immersed in power cut

That  sinks  my  surroundings?

When dimmed  light  is  a  threat,

Could  you  become  my informative

Companion, via my Micromax mobile ?

Could  you  be  the remover of my

Countless  obstacles  when they  stem

around your neck  and  heart?

Could  you  be my All Time Guide ?

Above  all could  you  be  my  radiating

Boon  to shine  as Halo  for  ever  and ever.

Thank God ! I am literate.

         Thank God! I am literate.

I  thank God    and  my  Muse

For  ever. I need no scribe.

My choked  emotions  and

Pent up  feels    burst  into 

Transformed  configurations.

The  words  are no longer  choked,

They are double alive, for My

Muse  gives  shapes, serene  and

Sober expressions to them.

The  paper  or  book  is  Not

The  place of One  Language

For  it  is  a  multi Coloured,

Multicultural   Hub. I often

Delight, revel to be a  part

Of  this reflective  Hub.

Tracking The Lines.

           Tracking  the lines

The  dragon like wheels that are set,

Move  backwards  and  forwards,

Tracking  the lines along, miles

and  miles  far off, beyond your ken.

The onward  path serene   and  poetic ,

Free  from  panic, eager to  reach its goal,

Watching  through the window, each

And every station, pulse of humanity,

Move about, a mindless noise   and

Notation, mechanically devised.

Is it  noise or  Voiced Voice, you

Need  to ponder   and  prevaricate.

The  downward  journey, the  pitch  dark,

The  barking  of  the dogs on the 

Starless  night, the Dalila  like  arrival

On the platform,   awful  for you:

 You know,Dalaila  has   much  to  say.

All depends  upon how  to  foray .

The    arrival  on the platform  veers

On its reels, ready  to  take us .

It   has  to  track  miles and miles

Far  beyond  our  ken and  goods.