Mystery surrounds us

My school days adventure

 by the riverside of gurgling pot,

the pond where  fish and salted pickle

for curd rice serve appetizer ;

my school days of charm and play,

sky changing color, sudden clouds

sweep into your nerve for your 

home without electricity, home

without the modern unfractured,

hurdle for your studies, inculcating

fear at the same time, for the nights

eerie and make you feel some spirit

around you keeps always watching;

  

A fear always runs through,

Fear for your living in and around

Your village where belief and charm

Mostly govern every move, every hour

arresting your furthering stand;

grandma’s stories, grandma’s belief,

akin to that of mysterious things

in life, water encircling, the currents,

the force and power, a redoubled mystery

 governing all .Eternity and death

already in and around the spirits,

where and why they lead, I know not.

Running after the sudden light

 

Running after  the sudden light

Where is the light from?

Where is the power from

to this floor of   keen and delve?

Nodding grass, the puffed wind,

The green smell in dawn’s wake,

the light,  my awareness that

we all fly on the wings of Time.

What you call, sudden awareness,

 A mood, salient best befitting your

 Line falling into mine, Time sets 

Everything right. I have sensed this

In a mood of rumination, a mindset

Converting this light into mine;

A sort of after life for both

Prediction a safe sail and move

When you and I will have  Time

 A different in its soul,

Merging with our soul.

Till my last my love for thee:

 Poem of the week: Love and Death by Lord Byron

Till my last my love for thee:

What can separate us both

clinging to each, so loyal,

So strong and sturdy, every moment:

I watched you in all my earnest.

Every distraction on your side

away from my genuine move,

every affectionate step unalloyed

from me, my words beyond  articulation.

Fever or earthquake or fury 

of nature in all its tides,

overpowering mankind, 

but you shall be away from all.

Me wrought in pangs and fury

 of convulsions, saddened by those

days of earning and love,

dipped in robe of loyalty, still;

I will rock in earthquakes,

Roll in drums of wars and vigor,

Whether you reciprocate 

Or not, still love you till my last.

Poem of the week: The Wife of Usher’s Well

 She was  a wealthy woman

of  care  and  caution and pure,

Who had brought up her  gifts,

three sons, whom she bestowed,

personal care and affection

unalloyed all along.

When one morning they left home

Hopefully for better prospects,

She waited with cool and positive

Patience, her  home always with prayers

and  chanting both morn and eve.

Whereabouts of three  she is yet to know

Some said,   could be they were drowned,

Some opined, they were abroad,

 Some felt, collective business loss,

Hence, they would return after a long,

 Northward would she always pray,

 For the return of her blessed three;

She woke up from sleep and anxiety,

“That her children would come 

but will not stay along,”    was  it a mystery,

Or weird, a prediction from far off?

Her motherly affection wants 

at least once their face, their smile,

Their company, rest, leaving it to Time.

 

Poem of the week: The Concert by Edna St Vincent Millay

All  on a concert

This argument between them

equally agile and in fighting  mood

like a bouncing  ball in a fierce  hand:

all  for permission to go to concert

since music in her  blood, unabated;

she   pleads, cringes, stoops

out of affection and company in hall

where time spent with him will be time

precious and smooth; yet his concurrence

is awaited.

A singing   town can I imagine?

 Does  she  enact an  opera, does

She  hear  a military dialogue

Or love  and hate  throwing 

Weapons  and  bloodless  wound?

Winning at last with her winning

Words prevailing upon him,

till now  unyielding, she gets ready

dresses  up   for  a change 

only to come back smiling 

endearing for a fresh start.