Tuesday, March 29, 2016

It is like canonization

)     It  is   like  canonization.

     When bamboo  notes
     Peer  out and strike  a  melody
     They  pay  hymn  to  those
     Wood  and  green  leaves,
      It  is  like  canonization.
      The  hard  bent wood
      and  chiseled   bamboo
      gracefully  acknowledge
      the rhythm of  sonority.
      It is like a   canonization.
     
     
     







She tweets in the lawn

   
        She  tweets  in  the  lawn


In  the quest of new, surrender of  self
To the  polymath  greenery of environment
She  sheds her plumage, retains  a few,
She tweets on the lawn,
No lamentations, no pining
Except  for  the cherished plumage,
She  reconciles  it is  all
For  the good,  a process by itself.
She  tweets on  the  lawn.
Hers is the lawn, loneliness gone,
She  lets go  a  white  feather
Meandering  giving  it  a  free pass.
She tweets  on  the lawn.



We are the Bunch of Grass.

 We  Are  The  Bunch Of  Grass

 Creepy insects  disturb us,
Butterflies   and  tiny flies
Pass us  taking  us for granted.
Dew  drops  as tears, as I construe,
Fall  on us for we  are trampled
 Foliage, pitiable, desperate.
 We  are   The bunch of  grass,
We  smell  green, we smell fresh,
 Vibrant  wet  Emanate  from our roots.
Roots, like  ancestral grandeur
Are  our  unshakable  Strength.
We  are  Not peel of plantains,
 We  bend and  yield to  sickle
Of  callous   cuts  and  removal.
We  have no   boundary  line,
At times, our brotherly kin
Pops out of gaps, of cleavage,
of walls  and  moles.









































Friday, March 25, 2016

Sudden and Assured for Ever.

 Sudden  and  Assured  For Ever.

The  nymph comes  sudden 
Sure  to  lend its assured hands.
It  may  be  from  the  hidden 
Stone slab  or from  the  wavy
White  curtain behind which
The zephyr like. If  willed
It can be  dexterously  evasive
of uncanny  dangerous prevailing
on our  existence, moods ,why even
thwarting   them  to our  surprise.
It  could  be  the  cautious  ringtone
Of our futurity  or  winning 
Moiety  of  win  and victory.
It  is  angelic, pure  and pristine.
It is a  glow, glowing  for ever
In your heart and soul


Man's Shame, Sun's Beam

Man’s Shame, Sun’s beam

Man’s urge for  flesh and impulsive itch ,desire,
Youth and mirth  and  wine  and  liquor,
A mockery for his existence,
Finally  fetch in the  loss   of  gold  and coin
Currency ,his name  and reputation,
So are for  women’snudge   for costly , 
Result in loss of  the same .
Costly is  the   coveted  and   lost.
After years gone, realization stems
Bodily death man’s doing   and 
Soul pining  for  the loss  and  amiss
Flies to  a  different zone.
Sun’s beams  refract  Not the
Shame  of  the bend  of  the  day.
It  is  goalless  life, now  soulless too.
It is  the  grey  life ,ultimately
Coming  to  an  end .
Spring  and  sun  and  season’s
Nurture take turns , come and  shine.



Friday, March 11, 2016

On Hair Fall and Hair do

On  Hair Fall  and  Hair  do

On  Hair Fall  and  Hair  do

The Fall, Hair   Fall is 
Highly  dangerous, like
The  Fall of  Archangel
for  after  the degeneracy
Its  clusters ,coils,  gather
Round  and round and
Occupy  the corners ,
A predominant   supremacy
Asserting  their  wounded
Pride  on  the earth. My
Grandma  oftener  sounded
That  the  coils like cobwebs
Are  ill omen  and  forecast
Penury and  emptiness
In the household.

How  beautiful and
Filling ,decorative ,
The  hair on the head!
A thin  filmy layer like
we   comb, and reorganise   
to  our  tastes. On  top,
in their  due position,
hair layers  are safe,
in  the   dexterous, deft
hands of   hair dressers,
they  are subservient  and
undergo  different  twists
and  tangles  and  deaths.
  Also, Nowhere  they  are
On the ground.







Monday, March 07, 2016

The Twin

         The Twin
My personal Computers, agile
Not  Parried, but  compacted  
Into   pact  of union, emit  numbers
And papers in    steadied  ringtones  
Innate  and streamlined  in them.
Tab gently  mocks, 'bereft of me,
You  both  are null'.
 Now  I feel   My job is done.
I review my outcome, multiplied
On   colour    print, always
A touch , a smile on tab
Amidst  a  short silence
Of  the  friendly  Twin.




Thursday, March 03, 2016

A Desire For Furthering My Move.

                   A Desire  For  Furthering  My Move.

( Please  do not  berate me  as a person  SANS patriotic  fervor, but this is a
Blatant ,inevitable depiction of   the contemporary  scenario).
       I like this House, a  sacred Abode,
      Where  I  know   the set things
      Where I kept, also comfortable with.
       I need   move, a change.
      I wait, long for, also pine oftener,
      What  about  those for whom
     Doors  are shut. No Chance .      
     But  I need  to  leave this, a  Move,
     At least  for  a while. To soil
    Which promotes your  creative aura,
   Lands  where language   and literature
  The lustre of which glow, fetch you peace
   and  serenity. Here  dirt   and  waste
  cankering  our bodies  and rancor
  corroding  deadly our  souls.  Garbage 
  and  flies pile up, despite  best efforts
 to  keep  alerts  of   sanitation  drive.
 Money from  coffee  houses  to coffers
And  coffins   thence to  crematorium,
Looks  as if  people are eating money.
 You  are not allowed to do
Your own work, your salt is not yours.
Realize, no point raging, or  racing through
The rusted  times. The country of Vedas
 And Upanishads  has  been slowly
Going asunder. But I am sure
That something  we are  searching
We  will have one  day. This  is
My  house, my  land  of  firm  stand.



   

Wednesday, March 02, 2016

Burn not thyself

  Burn  not  thyself.
Burn midnight candle
In   dutiful   serendipity,
to achieve healthy goal
Or   avowed  commitment.
But  Not thyself, nor  your  flesh,
It is not your business.
Burn your Angst of  temerity
and  anger ;but  not  your
 peace  and   serenity.



Stillness,stirring you.

   Stillness, stirring you.   

Sitting  on gravel mound  
In  front  of a lawn spread
With  green   Savannah like,
Neatly  clipped on, Your
Moorings  stretch  far beyond
Aeons  of Memory.
Breeze, freeze, fritters ,
Powders  all your surges
Roving  within  you.
Stillness  is   now  perceptible.

Look up the  canopy
Of  cool  firmament,
Some shade or journey
In the cool moon.
May be some ancestor’s
Soul   dwells in serenity.
Moon glides  slow
A steering lesson for 
Mankind to follow.
Though high, stillness
Is perceptible.

Your  paper fritters,
Measure the immeasurable
In  lines  of compete  rhythms
Surpassed  by the tossing roars.
On   the    ageless sands of
Crab play, hide and seek;
Pebble    and pop corns,
 business of Ground nut vendor.
Go  through  the lines
in the poly vocal  rehearsal
there is vibrant   Stillness.



Tuesday, March 01, 2016

A contrast

              A contrast  

 You  go  to  the  Himalayas,
 Avowed  Penance  and
 Profound  string of meditation 
Are not  the only  remedies.
Stultifying   revelations 
Are too many, mysterious
  Ground breaking too.

In  the  melting  snow,
In the downpour of rains,
You see  the hardness of 
Human  hearts, Thaw  Not.
 In the hard  stone,                                   
Beneath  the exterior,
There is a   wet  border.

The  carpenter’s chiseled
Hammer  and  intermittent 
Beats   on the wooden teapot,
emit   unique rhythms,
Cautionary  tale for bystanders
And  listeners  as well.
Painful  rhythm to listen to.

Salt  in the ocean waters,
sea shell  and conch ,
roars  and frothy  foams
powering   sands  and  helpless
Anchorage  and   marooned
Ships –weave tales of ample past.
All contrast to man’s small brain.