After Guardian

 Norfolk  and  Lambeth go in history

Wars and fights get recorded

Losses  and   victories get embedded

in books of history for  people 

to read, feel and mourn and praise;

Clere saved  his friend Howard

A move selfless  and out of affection;

What ever be the result, we struggle

leaving result to Him, the creator,

believing in Him, for  the finale.

He who fought for his friend 

  Saved his friend, but   it is the

Situation, circumstance beyond 

Control, redeemer was pained,

Yielded  to a cause of his friendship.

In your wounds, there is time the healer.

In her world of Karma

 In her  world of Karma

 Her  day of writing

is not about costly fur coat

which hangs around  her

and  a few known;

 not about wardrobe and bedecked neck-

jewelry studded in   glittering stones.

 

Then what?

A day of scorching summer heat

On her head of pot brimming

with gurgling water equally hot,

her hand on hip for a supportive clip

while her sandals draw unsteady flip flops.

 

Each careful step aligned

with a concern of her child

in cloth cradle hanging from beam

of  dilapidated haven, a lullaby

by its elder sister echoing her still.

 

Reaching  the blessed  home

for some  lean  protection it gives

 for she is the sole bread winner

disowned by her husband  long ago.

Blessed landlord in wretched times!

 

Her  contacts not, never,

in swim bath suits  and 

rich flavored juice in jars

morning and noon in cool sips

matter of distance for this poor.

 Her improvised kitchen

Catering to her bare needs

Compels her to sing s self made

Song of karma , her  karma

Why this on her hearth and how long.

 

 

My mother says no after ( Guardian) Radhamani sarma

 My mother  says no after ( Guardian)

Yes! That Bloomsday sounds very important

in my resounding diary, making me visit often

the crucial moments of care  and  recipient.

Wheeling   elderly and aged, in my home,

my priority, for years with   commitment 

and devotion unmatched, driving me proud

for the blessing and healing it involves.

Personal care, veering moment after moment

Round the clock, for the   realization, this one

Birth, and life evolve around affection

And nothing but mutual affection. 

But the mother slowly in her own world 

Of past, her days, irredeemable, peculiar

Dream world beyond my comprehension;

Still my care persists; comfortably she sleeps

In her own world, cherishing memory of her

Husband, with whom, she had special days,

I am not wanted, now, slowly she merges 

Into a different round of entity, me, after all

Watching the dumb show.

Poem of the week: Nocturne by Wanda Coleman (after guardian)

 Poem of the week: Nocturne by Wanda Coleman (after  guardian)

I  move  in a steady pace, measured beats,

 Monitored by a steady tongue, for they say

tongue is a  powerful and balancing  fork;

I hum and run in smooth, unfaltering pace,

Governed by a smooth rhythm, its own pace,

But how long it lasts, is a question, how fast,

another, running a quest in search of death;

a departing point, “point of departure”

a stunning myth, direction towards

a dead end, irredeemable, towards

another border, new port, dark,

unpleasant and dismal, mind cant digest;

all this happening while running, running

beyond  a  mythical dark, or dark myth

mind is irreconcilable for this running ? 

After Square ( Guardian) Tishani Doshi

 After  Square   ( Guardian)  Tishani  Doshi

What is a square ? always a question,

Is  it  diagram, a figure, a graphic

Limited space, unique in my  mind.

A wooden framework, human invention,

image full of hidden crafts, would have been

arts embedded in it. Square is my home, serene

where frames of godheads are hanging 

on the wall. On extension, it is my garden,

where  sanctified aura blooms in  multiples.

Another square, cells multiple within our

Fragile body, again another side, a slow

Demarcation with the passing of time; 

When drawing close, when square shakes, 

falling from structures, become one 

mud, still it is a square, inimitable its way.