My word for your world of words

 

 After  guardian’s 

To Vladimir Nabokov … by Anthony Burgess

Radhamani sarma

 My word for your world of words

My mind goes back to those salty years

when you  coiled yourself in your web

 not attributing to any reason, not

clamoring for any ransom, you were

still your own, majestic  and  calm 

in your home, own home, of simplicity

and serenity. How often, like opposites

in  chess boards, we were in wordy deals,

digging in word play, semantics 

and translations, praising the Creator

for His Creation, language  and literature;

I came to your rescue, pacifying, Literature

and letters are our only forte, our realm

our free kite soaring above our moods, 

propelled by strings of our will  and wish;

I can only dedicate a poem for you

For your word game, right now 

Not bleeding, still wounds they are

 

Not bleeding, still wounds they are

 

Not bleeding, still wounds they are.

Some where, in your heart, sticking,

Why somewhere, mostly in most parts,

Gnawing  and annoying like wintry chill;

 

  You come out of its  creepy wound cuts,

  You tend to forget the   outcome, self

  donned in n gentler garb, even while

  the slings and arrows  pierce your

 

  forgetting orb, giving a  nod, a cool pass off.

 Hectic days  and sleepless  nights    in their own

world taking you along their wingless poesy

Only recourse  and remedy you dwell  in.

 

A god given boon and bliss you cherish

Wishing for the same your life’s journey

Soothing your wounds in a calm flow

 Still the wounds not bleeding, yet

 

  Pain hanging your vestige with

Time’s coin rolling on and on

Wounds get slow healed  their pace

Still wounds they are, not bleeding.

 

 Only recourse  and remedy you dwell  in poesy

While peace serenades your  body and mood;

 

Still and because...

 

After  Guardian's  'because

Radhamani sarma

Still  and because...

Still in the wounded heart like a container

sift  and flow like flow rhymes  permeate,

because of steady stubborn crow in the cawing morn;

 reminder of ancestral voice descent soon.

 grass bent  and trampled stay safe

in the mounds of stones and  dry soil,

 because of some wet flowing from Heaven's bounty,

from Time's  creation,  His will  and Design 

not to be thwarted,  His ruling wand from Above,

 yet marching battalions  surge to bypass;

because of His  Unique  Table  where calculations

cannot go amiss  and will not so.

Salmon and crab  swim and    play 

by  splashes  and waft of boats and waves,

because of  inherent thrill and  life

ordained by Workman  on this rim less shore.

Moon still shines on this tedium

in the negation, life's last baggage,

until  a will to surrender to HIS WILL

 beckons to my coinage counting  still.

still praise be to this  world,  rearing so far,

 still kudos to this soil nurturing  our keel,

because  everything is tune with set  pattern

 inviolable in this still wounding world.

Tree’s pride and plight

 

Tree’s  pride and  plight

 

Interspersed with my

Thick green foliage,

a swarm of bees and  berries,

day’s call and copious  buzz.

 

At noon, a surreptitious    caterpillar

pair with the  pained bloom,

not shedding but sharing with the

clustered clan ever accommodating.

 

At dawn, crows black princed,

covey of parrots with green livery

Pride with the parentage,

their wings a  see saw fritter ever,

 

until a thud of wind sweep and

 

dogs bark gathering all shiver

my kith and kin of neighborhood

silenced into  shrunken chamber.

 

I wait for Spring’s advent

to reshape my defunct call

can I see again my broad spectrum?

Under which many umbrellas  figure in.

 

 

 

 

  

 

s there any hand to hold..

 

Poem of the week: Think, now, whose hand … by Patricia McCarthy

 Is there any hand to hold..

Radhamani sarma 

Really I know not, which way to go,

whom to believe, which  hand to hold,

like the cawing crow, I keep searching

for some security, identity, but in vain;

many  reciprocal faces, often on my  way,

 many  half extending hands to drop in middle

I have experienced, but clinging yours,

yours only, for some assurance, therein,

majestic rivers,  unending stories, plots

meandering, rivers that dont go dry,

all from your ebullient streaks of pen

holding my attention, the moment

I open the page, so significant for me

just as your  unfailing  hand, hand 

of dharmic karma, but lurking now

for some reason or other unknown. 

in your poetry, there is the majestic

silence voice, silencing me, silencing 

all, but that vigour of  propeller

moves on,in search of my hand .

Time’s Travelogue:

    Time’s Travelogue:

    In  a  moment of   reverse

    Adjudication   of pondering,

   Time  doesn’t  fleet nor fly.

   It  takes its own  steady course

  On its embittered wheels.

 At times  coarse  tapping

Your  memory. Otherness 

Is  always  there.  Its  doing 

And   undoing a wonder.

 It  is a  crow morn  to  noon,

Hop  skips on the  brown stems

Or branches, looking  askance

and  pecking  hither  and thither.

Wheeling  on Time’s   immutable circa

You wonder at those  basking  in the

Luminous galaxy, a   rebirth of

Their  identity. For  some,

 A wanted   quick  release

From  this  cacophonous  trauma .

 

Classical mix

 After Hymn to Aphrodite ( Guardian)

Classical mix

Cool night, cool moon, cool air

A longing to see you in the lobby

 how love  and  life to be entwined,

but   sex and lack of understanding

something on you  not congenial for  me.

Asking for guidance from the canopy

Of sky and stars, for ages sages and sagas

have  sought guidance  and care from 

blue the Blue for royal splendor.

I am wondering what is happening 

All smile  and sanctity now gone in you,

All beauty abused for wrong purpose,

All stay here, of no purport, but a  sudden knock

At my door with a sign of your radiance and smile

A changed emblem, love  and kind,

A solace for me you are mine, the same

forever, irrespective of thunder  or hellish fire

for determination and His Sway  only the 

armour to shied  protect and sustain us 

a message to soothe  and  stay by us for long.

Classical mix

 

 

Classical mix

 

Cool night, cool moon, cool air

A longing to see you in the lobby

 how love  and  life to be entwined,

but   sex and lack of understanding

something on you  not congenial for  me.

 

Asking for guidance from the canopy

Of sky and stars, for ages sages and sagas

have  sought guidance  and care from

blue the Blue for royal splendor.

I am wondering what is happening

 

All smile  and sanctity now gone in you,

All beauty abused for wrong purpose,

All stay here, of no purport, but a  sudden knock

At my door with a sign of your radiance and smile

A changed emblem, love  and kind,

 

A solace for me you are mine, the same

forever, irrespective of thunder  or hellish fire

for determination and His Sway  only the

armour to shied  protect and sustain us

a message to soothe  and  stay by us for long.