Sunday, November 27, 2022

oxgloves in charm ********** POEM BY RADHAMANI SARMA

 

 

Nov  foxglove

 A POEM BY RADHAAMNI SARMA 

Foxgloves in charm

**********

How much of charm,

How much hidden in  the term,

A hidden charm, sill I daresay

Visible and heard often,

Driving the hidden slow devil;

Both in my motherland,

Fatherland, foxglove, improves,

In one moment, I speed up,

Roll it, roll on it, for further

Investigation, a speedy spell ,

On long love, enduring, endearing,

Cannot describe any further,

Fully venerable.

 

 

Saturday, November 19, 2022

) Radhamanai sarma

 

 

POEM BY RADHAMANI SARMA

Where is Gold and Mad  rush for Gold

**

When life  is precious, more precious

Man deems gold , only gold, whatever

May be the modality of approach, reap

And ultimate gain. What  is its pristine form,

Before its shiny state of ornament and glitter?

Rush to the mines, deep delve, deeper

Even at the cost of man’s breath and  life;

Hard labor, freezing our efforts, pain,

Killing our ambitions  and killing

Our desires to amass Gold,  Gold,

All attributes   of technology failures,

Machines deserting their will power;

The bird, scream, village, pond

And gold mines – all under total

Devastation, yet rush for gold

Runs in man’s blood and strain.

Still  Snow runs, snow captures

Their slumbering mood,

For a  hunt , for their livelihood.

 

Saturday, November 12, 2022

POEM BY RADHAMANI SARMA

 

 

A POEM BY RADHAMANI SARMA

 

All smooth is not smooth sail

********

Our soft talks, gentle walks,

untouched by  rivalry  and chaos,

Now into a  zone, flying zone

Beyond a viable cause;

Now no remedy.

 

Unbridable  gaps, sudden

like creepers unwanted and dry,

just as pop ups spoiling the show,

somewhere, where from we don’t know,

Now no remedy.

 

Our poetic discussions, poetic aura,

Images and metaphors flown

Into the cup, a fluidity of charm

Unique and unrivalled, where are those?

Now no remedy.

 

After  all the turmoil, all vexations,

 There is  a positive sign assured

Our days will be back with smooth sail.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Saturday, November 05, 2022

a POEM BY Radhamanai sarma

 APOEM BY RADHAMANI SARMA

    Her Art

 

  She opines the art of writing

  Poetry should be natural,

 as a bloom, stem from seed,

  effortless and natural in its way.

 Beauty and growth own

 Their typical due to spontaneity,

Springing innate from its own style.

 

Another counterpart argues intense

One must struggle, spray, select,

Scrutinize images and  metaphors,

with warp and weft of sheer mould,

Running to pages  and pages into books,

Bold   Titles  and headers to  capture

 readers and writers for a longer tenure.

 

No dark, no cloud, no doubts,

Neither inhibitions  into this  portal

Unique, where Divinity and dignity rule,

For all ages to come and prevail.

Saturday, October 29, 2022

Where am I, what am I? Radhamani sarma

 

 

pOEM BY RADHAMANI SARMA

Where am I, what  am I?

 

********

I feel weak and tired,

Despite the indomitable will,

Fight back with vigor,

My mind vague and empty ,

Drawn at times to globe around.

 

Days have fled, youth has gone,

Fresh skin has deserted ,

Color merged with dried skin,

Tedium of past, old age, taps

In all its unyielding pressure.

 

Fly above, fly high, fly  more

Into  zones  worth exploring,

While tedium and vex move

A pressure to combat further

Till all application proved futile.

 

Bird dons  apparel of freedom,

Freedom  flies with unchecked speed,

Into global realms of joy

Into realms of vast vistas,

Realm to be explored further.

Saturday, October 22, 2022

A confession by mother POEM BY RADHAMAI SARMA

 

POEM BY RADHAMANI SARMA

 

 

A confession by mother

 

I may look modern, ultra modern,

Sound different from convention,

But totally I am conventional,

Thread of tradition running

Through each and every move.

 

My family, my children and members

Know pretty, that I am wedded to family,

Domestic chores, only a little modern,

Where expected to satisfy  worldly  norms.

Tradition runs through my blood.

 

Family,  bonds  and  bounty,

Rules  and regulations  striking

All through every minute and moment,

Conventions care as if mother

Cares every moment of her life.

 

Friday, October 21, 2022

A FREE EXPRESSION cpc 22/oct APOEM BY RADHAMANI SARMA

 


A FREE EXPRESSION    POEM BY RADHAMANI SARMA

 

A bunch of straw treaded

In the field no longer green,

Ready for plucking and uprooted,

A free  expression on key board;

 

 Un attended, undaunted, untuned,

A mass of gruesome collection,

Hitherto all green fleshy bloom,

A free  expression on garbage bag;

 

Morning’s fresh coffee or tea

Smokes  emanating in rolls

Hot for tongues and tastes,

A free  sips of expressions  lengthy;  

 

All flies and insects crawling mass

Leaves or greens and rots or rotten;

Kitchen sink  or uncleaned corners,

All free expression  in exploitation;

 

Poems or blogs, puns or funs, haiku or hits,

Free or traditional, classics or modern,

Running in pages  and bulky volumes ,

A Free expression of flow  and fruitions;

 

First tap in the serene morn,

easy flow on vessels and scrubs,

foaming soaps and sediments,

all on  a free flow of muddy water.

 

A free expression is unique

Bouncing every where  these hard times!

 

Monday, October 17, 2022

A take upon the above by followed by Radhamani sarma

 

Poem of the week: I  Am Not A Falconer by Caroline Bird)

 

 A take upon the above by followed  by Radhamani sarma

A long wait,  long standing,

Long observation, long chain

of thoughts all  eternal flow

from within ;dan or dusk no matter,

 

Amidst heavy rains, I stand

Wait for her, asking for forgiveness,

If anything goes amiss, but nowhere

Is she seen, what could be the reason?

 

Where is  the falcon? Where is the fly?

Where is my little sweet girl? Where  am I?

I am asking GOD a question,

How long, do I miss her;

 

On speedy wings, on your return,

Let  us fly fa r along, fly , fly

To a destination unknown,

Our own world of privacy.

 

A long wait,  long standing,

Long observation, long chain

of thoughts all  eternal flow

from within ;dan or dusk no matter,

 

Amidst heavy rains, I stand

Wait for her, asking for forgiveness,

If anything goes amiss, but nowhere

Is she seen, what could be the reason?

 

Where is  the falcon? Where is the fly?

Where is my little sweet girl? Where  am I?

I am asking GOD a question,

How long, do I miss her;

 

On speedy wings, on your return,

Let  us fly fa r along, fly , fly

To a destination unknown,

Our own world of privacy.

Morning’s zoom of butterflies butterflies time day Radhamani sarma

 


 butterflies, time day

Morning’s zoom of butterflies

 RADHAMANI SARMA

Early spring in the cheerful morn,

My garden’s  resplendent  sirens

booming around in  flowers of nectar,

Welcoming our friends zooming around.

 

Your deft stroke of usual fingers,

Delicate touch and go on  flowers,

Invitatory glance at mine  too

for a  step ahead on pluck and go.

 

Sun’s warmth mild and peeping around,

Rays gentle all sides through grills,

Straight on buds  and blossoms of perfumed

Aura for a move congenial for blessed alone;

 

How often I recall poets’ and seers’ journey

Comforted by language of prediction.

A quick   realm of parrots and  cuckoos ,

their  sharp edged beaks on kiwis.

 

A feast of delicacy and delight,

Steady zoom of butterfly,

Form  from afar  and nectar near,

to my pained heart companion dear.

 

His Majestic peep   not silken touch

On butterfly in growing hot amidst,

Inching on cupped flowers yellow and rose,

Brown and violet wings day’s feast.

 

 Home  garden and gardening

Till the last breath, steady  move  one

Nothing can deter and spoil

Unless undone by else of crooked stand.

 

 

Saturday, September 24, 2022

His strange wish Radhamani sarma

 

 A comment upon the poem following :  Radhamani sarma

Poem of the week: In Winter the Steep Lane by Peter Sansom

 

 

His strange wish

 

It is during winter, chill wind

Crossing his mood and temper,

A keen desire to go out for a  walk,

May be in search of new something.

 

Tall trees, winds, the growth

A puzzle and pleasure,

for mankind for the stem and wood

from tiny seeds  on this soil.

 

Ice cold, does not make him

walk fast, slow, slow but  driven

by a spirit of impelling force,

driving force, ahead of his energy and time.

 

Stars and snow shine  and  run

My  blood  in  mood swayed

Far ahead towards a  path

Uncontrolled by any external.

Winter still runs in me,

In my being, far ahead of  something.

 

 

 

A spell of what - Radhamani sarma

 


 

 A spell of what  poem by Radhamani sarma

 

For your special eyes, something

Throughout night, rolling amidst dark,

Gate  the recipient,  none can gainsay.

 

 Bluebell, like  a doll special,

rolls  and sweeps  the mass,

special and assertive,  weaves

 

a philosophy amidst our chaos,

seer’s perspective, teaching us

beyond our expectations.

 

But chained by our limitations,

We can not go beyond the line,

We feel at least so, we feel  strongly so.

 

The one bluebell  prevails, strong,

Prevails  our unthinking  coils,

Tapping steady and further more.

 

Always we are ready for open ,

 With our receptive mode,

The same night, same blue bell

 

Amidst our terrible inhibitions,

With a victorious banner

Of assurance and prediction.

 

 

Tuesday, September 20, 2022

Morning’s zoom of butterflies Radhamani sarma

 

 

    For  Glory    publication  September 2022  for  October

 

Morning’s zoom of butterflies

 

Early spring in the cheerful morn,

My garden’s  resplendent  sirens

booming around in  flowers of nectar,

Welcoming our friends zooming around.

 

Your deft stroke of usual fingers,

Delicate touch and go on  flowers,

Invitatory glance at mine  too

for a  step ahead on pluck and go.

 

Sun’s warmth mild and peeping around,

Rays gentle all sides through grills,

Straight on buds  and blossoms of perfumed

Aura for a move congenial for blessed alone;

 

How often I recall poets’ and seers’ journey

Comforted by language of prediction.

A quick   realm of parrots and  cuckoos ,

their  sharp edged beaks on kiwis.

 

A feast of delicacy and delight,

Steady zoom of butterfly,

Form  from afar  and nectar near,

to my pained heart companion dear.

 

His Majestic peep   not silken touch

On butterfly in growing hot amidst,

Inching on cupped flowers yellow and rose,

Brown and violet wings day’s feast.

 

 Home  garden and gardening

Till the last breath, steady  move  one

Nothing can deter and spoil

Unless undone by else of crooked stand.

 

Sunday, September 18, 2022

A confession Radhamani sarma

 

Poem of the week: The Sunflower by Dora Greenwell                                                                                  

 

A confession    Radhamani sarma 

 

He shines fast, steady in his move,

I am bound to admire by his blossom,

Slow speed  till the eve sunset,

I, steady and spread my move along;

 

My golden orb, image for poets

and creative thinking ever steady

to roll  and speed is resplendent

for his  invite  and glow .

 

Such a powerful eye,

Ever to bewitch me ,

even in my droops and fails,

I admit I can not compete .

 

Mine is keen and steady

with a pursuit so powerful,

I have absolutely no powers

to compete  and glow.

 

So many plant and pick,

Worshipful around me

not knowing my pain,

only hours fly fast.

 

 After  all, he is my blessed comfort,

My soul can never forget,

This earth now in dusk

I  prepare  for a dawn soon.

 

 

 

 

Saturday, September 10, 2022

He is and was the man Radhamani sarma

 

 

 

 

He is and was the man


She begins,

My eyes first saw,

In  the first glance,

Captured the vivid tale

Behind him.

 

Singing  aloud with the net

Rolling on hand,

Both in waters  and on land

He was special.

 

Each day was  full of galore

His play, his fishing rod,

His song vibrant with love,

Mutual and reciprocal.

 

Alas! Time is not the same,

That day he came exhausted,

Fell in her feet,

Nor more this game,

 

He said, desired to meet

Her in the next world,

So sad, sad, closed eyes,

Gentle,  a sign with her arrival .

Saturday, September 03, 2022

His strange wish Radhamani sarma

 

  

His strange wish

 

It is during winter, chill wind

Crossing his mood and temper,

A keen desire to go out for a  walk,

May be in search of new something.

 

Tall trees, winds, the growth

A puzzle and pleasure,

for mankind for the stem and wood

from tiny seeds  on this soil.

 

Ice cold, does not make him

walk fast, slow, slow but  driven

by a spirit of impelling force,

driving force, ahead of his energy and time.

 

Stars and snow shine  and  run

My  blood  in  mood swayed

Far ahead towards a  path

Uncontrolled by any external.

Winter still runs in me,

In my being, far ahead of  something.

 

 

 

She is painted… Radhamani sarma

 

 

She is painted…

 

 Her dainty eyes, curly hair,

 So captivating my looks,

  I adored her always,

  Sadly missing now.

 

Her  melody, voice, her

Tune ever ringing,  a  new

Console, now lost for a  while.

Sadly missing her now.

 

Church bells  again

Find a similar rhythms

In her melodious tune

Vibrant in her appeals.

 

 Her rosy cheeks,

her caring looks,

smile full of warmth

and  tender as  bud,

 

I paint and repaint

In my diary hang it

On the wall

Unending charm of its own

 

Saturday, August 20, 2022

Philosophy born in the field CPC Radhamani sarma

 CPC AUGUST 22

Philosophy born in the field                 

 

After   the sickle’s bent

 crude straw  and dried haystack

strewn all over the field,

some evil spell cast much ahead;

brooding all efforts outside

the court with wounded flow on,

wounded palm  and hands

mockery of your seasoned

endeavor  rigor of your training,

something akin to the writing,

crude image to spoil beauty

of writing’s show and tell;

soon, grip of awareness catches,

 not merely worshipping  The Blue,

offering to gods, but A qualm,

a Forth right  seeing in adage like

accept things as they are given.

 

that was a special morn.. Radhamani sarma

  A take after the following 

poem of the week: Sonnet on Reading Burns’ To a Mountain Daisy by Helen Maria Williams

 

That  was a special  morn..

**

A lovely garden of fragrance,

lovely flowers, and buds blossoming

like the angelic assurance of gods

from  heaven some special nod

on this mundane earth and struggles.

That one special daisy on  morn,

That was  a special  morn with  charm

Assurance from  God’s succor,

Only source of inspiration .

Every storm that was blown,

Every moment of aggressive blow

her/ his/ whispering counsel from  within,

his/her,  common for the  agonized;

in the bitter morn, some  sweet  augury

a  console throughout for  the  agonized.