After Guardian ( Lucifer takes a break)

 

After  Guardian ( Lucifer takes a break)

All of us need  a break, even Gods do:

All work and no play, all work and no fun

Will  not work out for us  these  hard times,

 Body and mind need  a break , inevitable break,

 To churn chaos to order, to make  coffee  out 

Of  watery milk, need  some leisure  and patience

Inevitable break. Do you wander in these  aimless

World or wonder  how far is the distance 

from above to  these testing soil   with  times hard,

once  you are  in , do you taste  a sip of drink

strange, without sugar or less  sugar;

don’t you know man, life is  bitter struggle

here , not a sweet corn to be tasted, yet

man imbibes  a bitter sweetness for 

circumstances  beyond control.

What lies behind defeat and death Radhamani sarma

 

 What lies behind defeat  and death

The  hot days with hot pellets of gunshots

fiery raging with  angered valor and   courage

to defeat  our rivals, same hot blood still

amidst us from our trench, some from the

field, blood running like water, after all

the battle field is like child’s play;

unabated  vendetta  and ill will, the same

mood of violence prevailing after fire

quenched here  and there. We  fell  to the

ground with wounds  and breath hanging 

flimsy within  the orbed wall, much to the

 fear  and suspense of fellow warriors;

sudden, dismay, some falling like dusk

not knowing what is the next step, some 

still with a will to fight adversary, we  the

lying on the floor, not knowing, not fleeing,

still with a  pride,  a feel that we fought to 

redeem the honor of our country. Victory,

real victory lies still an acceptance that

though you fell, fell   and fled , fled for a

cause of a nation, matter  of pride, not defeat. 

omposed after "American Sonnet for My Past and Future Assassin Heal the wound, be blind to infliction

  Composed after   "American Sonnet for My Past and Future Assassin

 Heal the wound, be blind to  infliction

Live in the future, forget the past  and plan

for  your future is not my mood or motto now;

I live a world of my own, the deadly past haunting

me  over again, the present with its immediacy

appears elusive, but my  future with a strong hold

taking structures  on  a strong  platform ,my

prudent coined mound, unfaltering now

 before me .A  beautiful garden planting

rose, jasmine  and tulsi leaves  multicolored

and fragrance far reaching , my dream's 

aid from morn till evening, I keep travelling 

far  and wide, yet home is my ulterior savior

where  color  and chaos thwarted  by my 

 Mentor's    feather touch. In killing does not

live life, life lives in saving and protection plan;

introspection  and self awareness  order

of the day , forging ahead for a success.

Life is gritty void bugging all around

 Life  is  gritty void bugging all around

Hardly any space for us go out

and  breathe natural air, to play

game in broad day light with sanguine

mood to be culled into  the net around;

pollution, noise, gas and smoke 

all around, without   which mankind

is loggerheads with his self, despite

comforts  surge like mountain ranges,

like elephants rampaging forests, plantain

trees  and groves, hazards  and environmental

hiccoughs rummage our lives. Day and nights

vie with air pollution and noise pollution,

we  keep our fingers crossed waiting 

for sanguine  outcome, but heading 

towards  puffs of smokes blinding us .

after Guardian's

 This misty air...........

Life   as  committed soldier

 In the  warfront, in the urge

and wake of enthusiasm,

is life to be  celebrated  worth

A memory for years in history;

But to be treated like a slave,

to be  exploited, to be put

on garbs of starvation and thirst

a memory and moment to be erased.

Together in the same cell

 Tied up to their stories

Of village folk, to be behind

The scene of horrid happenings

How long – is their question.

Whole city, whole air infested

With pollution, poison and

Death and acrimony, running

Beyond remedy and  guilt

has left almost all, for their

need, is the essential want of hour.

Slave trade  and trafficking

Brutal argument with arrows

and chained metals their

day’s  thrills  and ends

when peace   mantra of desolate

of so many now  left on trees  and void.

from far off  a song of nothingness

amid  mist , mist of torpor

and  blood thirsty  resounding

every where. For some

only hope is the solace.