Saturday, August 28, 2021

Poppies ( after guardian)

 After  guardian


We  are called poppies, 

Red in color, large  and boom

Governed by our own norms

and ethics, growing strong

we  are  like humans, share

our feelings, be it summer

or winter, but man is yet

to understand our moods;

our leader from above, 

the sun shines bright  and 

we have special   cordial 

note of permission to view

and imbibe warmth from sun;

 we  like to have the same

openness from mankind,

same colorful cordiality

ever lingering among us;

urge in us always  there

but humans lag behind;

one among is bold, make

us shine in group and bolder;

but growing depredation

killing us, taking our breadth 

away, we only seek solace

only from leader sungod.





Saturday, August 21, 2021

n the eyes of the old and aged,

 

 

In the eyes of the old and aged,

all new and strange with warp

taking  a  mould  out of tune

and out of times, their own course,

 

where  questioning and quarrelling

grow bigger than reasoning

like sediments stuck up in zinc,

a process  hard  and difficult to remove.

 

handy wool in  dexterous ambience

yet  grandma’s eyes  synthetic  transparent

 getting torn pieces lie like abandoned

puppy in porch curled up  its future bleak.

 

grinders  and  mix  advanced yet

tongue and taste the same for all those

who believe in tradition  not short course.

She  believes not being vociferous.

 

What  about those days of carts

not cars when life dragged  by poor

and struggled :  now luxury eating

man’s conscience and control.

 

 


 

 


Once upon a time

 

Once upon  a  time

 

Once upon a  time

tossing up a  toy

Waiting for its return

Catching up to throw back

was  his  feat  and pastime.

 

Now he is in a different world

Not ruled by toys  and kites,

Nor small cycle rides, nor

On rocking horse when flying

With wild imagination high.

 

In a room of his own,

Desires  not his, but ruled

by instincts, dominated 

by jealous multiplied

quick turns of money making

 

rackets, mirage or miracle

only Time should descend

to prevail upon. All around

fake discipline intruding ,

questioning his spirits “why” ,

 

he is in doldrums,

knows  not how to convert

the whyness   into wellness,

no toy around , but only

mugs  and key boards ;

 

waiting  for his Muse

to spread  around

her  magic wand

so that he will be back

to childhood days innocent.

 

 

 

 

fter Guardian :Phantom or Fact: A Dialogue in Verse

   After  Guardian :Phantom or Fact: A Dialogue in Verse


What is that form that set in

Surreptious by my bed, cool 

and tender, nearer to my sway,

me wondering, if it  is a sudden 

angelic beauty with a silken cloth

wooing me with  endearing smile,

so sudden its arrival, a mystery

evolves around questioning if

it is   the doings of heaven or earth;

or gentle  bewitching into my soul,

sometime   back, it coiled around

in not so beautiful form, effacing

my youthful jollity and mirth,

into my mirror often, tapping 

its source; wait for both;

now comes a different form

friendly   shape, awakening 

dream or time playing  cards,

a game of strife or emotion

still a world of  conundrum 






Saturday, August 14, 2021

Leaf color ( guardian)

 


Leaf color  ( guardian)


What greater grin and your pain 

of morn can you see than in gathered

leaves   spread in garden, once your

copious flow of green and verdant full; 

 now shining yellow with dimmed brown

swallowing green, borders on pond,

what do they teach us, tell us in this

fast decadent world, intense loosening

our hope, artificiality in seeds   dipped

by pests  and withered corners; not 

much swallows nor crows with cries

echoing the fields parched now;

our days are gone, with colorful

fruits hanging quench thirsts then.

Now only shadows in parchments.

Look up to skies for mercy and pour.







Saturday, August 07, 2021

After Guardian ( …. It was my destiny to live long.

 


After  Guardian ( …. It was my destiny to live long.


Ten years of  cancer 

Struggle with drive and alone,

At times with rumination 

in  corner with lymph nodes,

Doctors’ notes on prescription

With chemo, death chasing me 

Slow and steady, fear running 

Across, eating me alive.

Death chasing me down

Not knowing that equally 

With vigor and will  I am 

Fighting back; Death chasing 

Me down ;with a warning

My days are numbered.


My deaths every minute

 unfulfilled like lines

extending in artists’ sketch

unabated  sill; desires,

 ageless norms, debts 

 and unsolved mysteries,

death chasing me down,

death on its adamant

steps giggling at me

me , reciprocating

with a reconciliatory 

smile, embrace sleep.