“Simulacrum”
POEM BY RADHAMANI SARMA
LOVES MANY FACES
IT HAS ITS OWN
APPENDAGE,
DIFFEREFNT COLORS, WITH
DIFFERENT COILS, CALLED
LOVE,
IT IS NOT LOVE, YET LOVE,
FACE AND HANDS AND BODY
IN MOVING DIRECTIONS,
WITH ALL CHALLENGES,
DRIVES IN ALL EMOTIONS,
NIGHT AND DAY NOT YOUR CHOICE,
BUT BOT
A DAY GOES WITHOUT
ANXIETY AND TENSE RIDDEN
MOVE,
THANK GOD . YOU ARE SAF
WITH THIS STRONG WILL,
DESPITE AGE AND TIME
ITS OWN TOL.
A
letter to land owner
-----------------------------------
Immediate
and immense cure
For
the shepherd,
for
the homeless,
aimlessly
wandering,
the
orphan on the roadside,
the
child on cruel hands
of
step- mother,
the
hut dwellers,
water
leaking from above,
sun
and stars and landscape
are
nothing,
only
inward thinking
and
solace from
within
are medicines
and
immense cure.
BY RADHAMANI SARMA
Very
sad to see the helpless passengers,
Sleepless
and poor ,undernourished
In
underground, a painful ,irretrievable,
I
could not bear the sight:
Some
sit, dark and dismal,
Blown
by the wind,
Trains
moving here and there,
Hunger
and starvation
For
months together
Has done and undone them.
Coins
or cleavage will not
Will never change their plight,
Only
time and time alone
Should
solve this .
Very
sad to see the helpless passengers,
Sleepless
and poor ,undernourished
In
underground, a painful ,irretrievable,
I
could not bear the sight:
Some
sit, dark and dismal,
Blown
by the wind,
Trains
moving here and there,
Hunger
and starvation
For
months together
Has done and undone them.
Coins
or cleavage will not
Will never change their plight,
Only
time and time alone
Should
solve this .
Harvest
Eagerly awaits the harvest,
A tradition bound by custom,
Cherished by grandmother,
Instilling a custom
to be followed.
Each corn is his treasure,
The persona reaps with happiness
And worshipful approach,
Dedicates the harvest to grandma,
Children and grand children ,
all sit by fire and celebrate
the read and with
merry songs
and mirth never to be compared;
Guardian feb 23
FOUR SEASONS GONE
Four seasons gone,
No more waiting,
No waiting for flowers, birds
Songs of their own season;
By the ponds or riverside,
By the huts or flats, mood
Of songs , verses overflow,
Touching the like minded,
Poetry alive now ;
Each time, you move,
Each move you undertake,
Each vibrant verse, you sing
with inspired mood
and move
ahead, filled with echo of patriot
and his sacrifice ;
verses and
poems will go on
undisturbed, warriors name
in boards and signs stamped.signs stamped.
Guardian feb 23
POEM BY RADHAMANI SARMA
Eternal wait for my beloved
She is my girl, soft and sweet,
White and smooth like
a pebble,
Craved for her affection and care,
Response and soft looks,
Just as the sun peeps in summer,
She used to glance
at me ,
But not a look of kind or care,
One fine morning she left a note,
Leaving the place and me
To a her native place,
A sun set in my life,
Which I can never forget .
My predicament so sad,
And irredeemable.
Nightmares how terrible they are!
Falling asleep with sound sleep
Is indeed a boon, undisturbed ,
But sleep with annoyance of nightmares
touching and teasing you with severe
rolling this side and that side,
with no clue or result a pain
mixture of some recollection of dead
near and dear to you,irreconicilable,
your journey continues, till dawn
wakes you up with a crow cawing
in balcony, grief
for the departed
is paid both crow
and me ;
nightmares haunt with ancestors
memory and their association
unforgettable.
Nov foxglove
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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
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.
