Poem of the week: Please Do Not Touch the Walrus … by Caleb Parkin

 

 

A take after…

I decide to clamber up, despite my receding will,

After crossing so many mediums,

Stumbling blocks too, a fiberglass pathway,

Reaching destination of iceberg, a difficult

to describe. How   to describe thick cold ice

thawless, as human heart, especially in times

of distress and dilemma, bugging ever.

My imagination ever expansive as

Boat on widening path, woods floating,

Catamaran still catching our eyes

for the day, moving there. Islands

and beaches, merry spots as we read

in our books, volumes, surpassing our

imaginations. How fantastic our luxury

boat with all luxurious crew, sightseeing,

last to appear is walrus, our pride and delight

beyond our speed of flight into high regions.

 

A grand praise for Garden Radhamani sarma

 

Poem of the week: The Garden by Nicholas Grimald

A grand praise for Garden

Who will not like grand theme of garden?

Who would abhor entering into the blissful

Spot unless infected with cold or similar such?

Her Muse, already invitatory notes to compose

Song in praise of sweet aroma of garden’s flower,

Buds, blossoming spell on her mood and mind

Set for another journey celestial and sacred;

Herbal roots with tiny upcoming leaves,

Medicinal care for cure for long ailment

Dictated and preserved in scriptures for long,

 By Sages and sagas, of long Repute in histories

Carved and cared with all veneration and due respect;

Bees buzz in morn and eve, on honeyed flowers,

 Around buds, a coil for them in and around 

Seasons full of honey and sweet perfume,

When thrill  for imbibe proves never ending,

At times, buds bar closing themselves,

For mankind a wonder unheeded.

Leaves of medicinal care and endure

For mankind in dire necessity and timely care.

Agriculture  and sericulture other  feeds

On the tool  of gardening, provided full flow

Of water  and  tilling, good soil  and deep plough.

 Medicine  and food from leaves, greenery

In plenty for Nature ever  stays in gardens

With unfailing aids,  at all times.

My muse now ready to compose

Songs in praise of gardens and  yields.

what and where is demon?

 what and where is demon?

what and where is demon?poem of the week: A Little Catechism from the Demon by Edwin Morgan

what and where is demon?

From morn till evening,

Questions throng your mind,

already disturbed, unable

to reach or find answer.

  Internalized questions about 

Mountains, fire, deep and river

All aspects of Nature don’t stop;

Thunder and deep boom around;

Somewhere something is hanging

Or pushing you ahead on march;

Film and villain, war and victory

roll on from victories and defeats,

still a query arises where is the self?

Demon or thinking or evil 

Set out to spoil your make,

Your karma or consciousness?

Could be demon hiding from within

enacts a drama either for good or otherness,

all proceeding from your thinking mode

demon for negative, angel for prosperity.

All time answer for my introspection.

 Poem of the week: The Mower’s Song by Andrew Marvell

 After ( guardian)

  A day in grass and lawn

Day in grass, day on meadows

Sing and jump mow and lawn,

My field of grass, field of study,

The green smell  an aura 

runs along my blood

As  nature did for the great  Bard.

Moment of pine, cut the blade of grass

But a flower smiling with nod

I leave with care to the edge of lawn;

Sorrow sings a song not joyful

for days of sad moments still linger

her moments spent  now with grass nod;

ye, grass  and meadows don’t fall

for earth replenishes your growth

but my heart still holds her whom 

I loved once, but she forsook hard

She  willful pushed me aside

From where I am yet to regain and grow.

 Age of machines, age of innovations,

flights, pulverized food, easy mode,

food in form of tablets, oranges 

in machines, mixie,grinders,

rocket to propel our desire 

straight to moon, moon landing 

curiosity dipped in dedication,

today children in classes, 

in private hours, marvel at moon;

orange peel on ground, earthbound,

when we  land to moon, a history 

culled out, deepens in our efforts; 

after all the culminations, success,

discoveries, a time for longing,

a longing for time, your own time,

aloneness, to think and move, strong

and stable, your horizon of choice.

After  all this, we need our own

Time, aloneness, to brood and invent,

Write and compose, to publish and bind.

Guardian’s The Age of Cardboard and String

 

GGuardian’s  The Age of Cardboard and String

Age of machines, age of innovations,

flights, pulverized food, easy mode,

food in form of tablets, oranges

in machines, mixie,grinders,

rocket to propel our desire

straight to moon, moon landing

curiosity dipped in dedication,

today children in classes,

in private hours, marvel at moon;

 

orange peel on ground, earthbound,

when we  land to moon, a history

culled out, deepens in our efforts;

after all the culminations, success,

discoveries, a time for longing,

a longing for time, your own time,

aloneness, to think and move, strong

and stable, your horizon of choice.

 

After  all this, we need our own

Time, aloneness, to brood and invent,

Write and compose, to publish and bind.