Saturday, June 27, 2020

Glacier ( After Guardian)



Glacier  ( After  Guardian)

 Nature  cannot escape
  Eyes of History and Man
 Cannot avoid the disastrous
 Pitfalls of Nature, how cruelly
wrathful! ice flakes, ice melted
into forming ghost line
invasive of   regions abominably
gulping lands, children, fields
 and   furrows, dens, burrowed   
homes;  Science and Technology
alone redeem these affected,
putting back the mindset
glaciers  and watery forces;
let us go to mountain, pray
God   from the Altitude
And thank Him for our needs.



Saturday, June 20, 2020

My pity is fake … by Miriam Neiger-Fleischman


My pity is fake … by Miriam Neiger-Fleischman

whom to pity and how ( after guardian)

 what is self pity? Whom to pity  and why?
 Question always arises looking at all
falling peanuts , strewn feathers and  
happenings around deaths and merciless
Killings, bombshells and  profuse bleeding;
 Me in the cell, suppressing all pangs
of torture  and still seeing many a victim
 In the gas chambers and handcuffed
  Awaiting judgement or final call from
  Heaven; counting dead in war field,
 identifying the innocent, selfless  torn
 amid by blood thirsty cauldrons,
 dead falling like pittance, I know not
whom to pity, kith and kin and still
fighting cells ;cant I abolish war,
cant I negate calumny: my instinct replies
it is not one man’s show, gathering
and conspiracy need be quelled;
who cares for the dead? I pity  myself
 same thing in store for me.







Saturday, June 13, 2020

In search of Rope not wanted- Hope ----------------------------------------- Is skipping I need, when stressed, Is rope in race, I wheel around, Hope and hop skip -hope, Need of hour, Hope does not forsake, while cocooned in isolation away from your kith and kin, bemused by inward pangs, a rope, skip away from your rope, should I catch your lace, I know not, for Time’s stringent Scale does slant, I will not Catch your rope, nor crave it For my will and force a room Of my own, my cells and boredom To avoid, books to munch within Four walls, for sacrifice and cause In my blood, shall not sleep, Enter into your rope, for my individuality my forte, enriched by chirping birds, only melody of my remaining life only hope for your rope I shall not enter; my prison guards ever watching and my sole monitor now .



In search of  Rope not wanted-  Hope
-----------------------------------------
Is skipping I need, when stressed,
Is rope in race, I wheel around,
 Hope  and hop skip  -hope,
Need of hour, Hope does not
forsake, while cocooned in isolation
away from your kith and kin,
bemused by inward pangs,
a rope, skip  away from your rope,
should I catch your lace,
I know not, for Time’s stringent
Scale  does slant,  I will not
Catch your rope, nor crave it
For my will and force a room
Of my own, my  cells and boredom
To avoid, books to munch within
Four walls, for sacrifice  and cause
In my blood, shall not sleep,
Enter into your rope,
for my individuality my forte,
enriched  by chirping birds,
 only melody of my remaining life
only hope for your rope  I
shall not enter; my prison  guards
ever watching and my sole
monitor now .

Saturday, June 06, 2020

Last days knocking at my gate


Poem of the week: Poem by Paul Bailey (after guardian)

           Last days knocking at my gate

         There  the birthday cake
          Not the time to talk of endings;
          Some more days to go,
         Some more time to be spent
         Too premature to  think about Death.

        Busy running about in schools
        carrying piles of books and drawings,
        skipping lunch and lending  hand
        to hunch and handicapped, visually impaired,
        That was not a time to think of death.

       As a ward boy, hearing wails, cries of babies,
       still born cast aside, back yards being mounded,
       eyesore to see countless come and go
       treated and turned down, dogs sniff  and go,
       that was not the time to think of death; 

       serendipity and surgery, surplus,
      and paucity, quagmire and   wanting
       quietude, all throughout like pits
      and pitfalls struck, still knocking,
      but when age  and debility strikes,

        fear of death captures my
        every moment of living ;
         This is the moment of time
        to think of death and rebirth,
         also of rejuvenation.