Meeting point   (guardian)

  Time  was  away, did  not want  to sway

 Nor   it inclined to intrude  into  our  ways

For  Time  knows  we are  beyond  access;

Yet,  lovers  and couples  congregated 

In their  meeting  point of  choice.       

Time   did  not  heed  their needs.

 Gunshots  and  pellets  and  volley

Soldiers   and   sacrifice  and  pool of  blood,

Time  watched  and  warned but

Did not  stay, but  far away.                                                                      

Bell   in  the  center    twanged

As  if  to give  a  sharp  signal.

 Time  was very  clever  and cool

Conscious of  its  moorings of impact.

Be it  the gushing wave, dashing spirit,

Cool   Moon  or  the  Azure, or  The

Deep, both  in  Good   and The  Bad,

Time was away, with  its  wary eyes.

 

                                                    

haiku on thanksgiving day in US

    this  day   thanksgiving

    bestowed on us  the gift 

    forgiveness       

 blood  and  gun  hardened

 feast  follows     felt  feelings

  tears  of  thanks giving

1)   red   syringe   into vein

   rebuffs –  refusal  to  befriend

   another   poison

2) leafs   dance -   bonanza

 soon    a   mix  in    bowl

 for    necromancy.

3)    Pillow  slipping

       declines   head  puffed  up

      with  pride.

4)     trampling    grass 

        humility  whispering

        me  inside        

 5) milk boiler  whistles

  Tv remote  takes  upper

  lower  mode 

6)  looking   at  the  clouds

    her  heart   embraces  into

    the  other world

                                                        

7)  tick  off  a  page

  in the  watchful  calendar

 debtor  paid off

8)   staring  at   the wall

    telephone  handset  wails

    self  is   useless

9  my  “i”  certainly

negates   with    the   theory

  of    solipsism   

10    In   that  shade

         She  builds  castles

           Over  there.  

  

           

Flower Remedies

      Flower  Remedies

I listen to the Call of my intent Voice,

Gyrating  always to   prone  and  guide,

look  at  the seas, dashing  waves   and

compare   and  compeer  with  the emotions

of many  afflicted  suppressing  their  inward

turmoil within  the  four  walls of  lubtub.

My  Rose  garden flowers  with  jasmine  too

With  the  wind  flowing   and  blowing

Enchanting  aroma  instil  a   therapy

At  least  for  the moment ;  balsam

Like  an efficient  curator  and  cure

Assured  herbal    mix. Whether  four

Flowers  or  forty in  bunch,  they

Are  evergreen in our memory

Decor  our   worshipful  hall of

 Meditation  and  Devotion.

A take on Psalm Mary Sydney- Guardian

A take on  psalm 52   Mary  Sydney    –Guardian

Oh! Treachery ! don’t be confident,

You can  for ever hang  around  the

 Shoulders of your faithful  master,

For  the villainy be  sure exposed  by

His  Miraculous  Workings,  The

Universal  Creator,  and Maker

In   due  course  to  snub   your  nose.

 Time   and  time  factor  alone

 Has  a   Definite  say in this

Pre-ordained   play  and  counter play

 For  certitude  and   ever.

 Your  lies   and  lures of wicked

Set on those  who believed  you

Would  be  Intersected    by   sharper

 Blades of  His   super  strategic  tact.

  The  Good  always  takes  asylum in

The Kingdom of  God, whereas

The  boast  and  arrogant  vile

like  you  and  your  parasites

gloat in a  murky pond of

self   beating  drum  and  end up

in  defeat  and  denial.

God’s  gates  are always  open

Impartial  for all: Good  and pious

 Stand    at  His  Gates, while  you

And   your questioning  vile  believe

In the  Negation  of  the Door.

Still  we  hold the Olive

 To  augment  peace  and goodwill;

Yet, you revel in your narrow

World of  abnegation  of  common 

Sense  and  righteousness. Who

Can  go against  Karma ?Destiny?

  

A ritual ever

A ritual  ever.   )

Throw  away the  clutter of  hatred

and  calumny  in the  laburnum

filled   pot of  stay:

Slice  off  the   cornered   decayed

Part of Apple ;  peel away

Oozing  orange, drawing  a 

Melange in the melalrmine cup 

 On the   Chippendale  table

Surrounded   by  four elegant  chairs.

Not   office -  rotating chairs,

nor  reclining cane chairs of

comfort, nor  even the  painted

wood but  Chippendale   Chairs

invitatory set of  welcome kits.

Sit  and  Muse sacred.

Age  always has its impact,

 Look  at  the picture  above

Your forehead,  guidance

Your Gift  and  benign pot

Of  Luck : Yonder  breeze

From   A tree of unwithering

For more hundred years.

                 

              

Stagnation

              Stagnation

This  stagnation    hoary  and  stultifying

making  its  inroads  like  blunderbuss

inside  the pocket of  sentinel wary.

From   afar I try to  thwart it

Day in  and  day out.

One morning  me thought ,    

 a Sycamore  be planted  new

in  my    blooming  garden      

with  prosperous  leaves  

undoing   all   numbness .

Growth  grows in  breezing

leaves , whiz past :

Booming   Hope sings  along

Copiously branched leaves;

 leaves  mythically  vibrate.

Talisman like    charm  and

towering   up  Hope  Power  up

 in  my  debilitated  heart,

clap up  for  sycamore,

 more  and  more  for protection.

   

four line haiku -one

     pearl

    A decor shining

    on  my  neck

     awesome  gift



2)  hoary  skeleton

 wrinkles of flesh

 deride  under

  thin  bone

Dream work of my life

Dream work    of my life --- Guardian

 I started  to   think of  my  writing ego

Passion,  books  and  creative  aura:

Nurturing on, tantamount  to a fresh sprinkler,

as  that of  a  babe clinging  to be

fed to its  mother’s   breast.  

Mother’s   milk of human kindness

being  fed into  the  tender  innocent.

Words! Words! Sprang  from  the

Core of  my heart, every  corner

Of my room   a  silent listener!

Slowly  became  a Dream  work

Of my life. With  the passage of Time

A  pleasant  daily routine   and

avowed  commitment  for 

The  Muse  ever up swelling .  

Even  the  wrist  watch ticks  extra,

resonates  every word  it  encounters.

Pulse  regular  is   rhyming  meter.