Time's doings Radhamani sarma

  Time's doings

Adjusting my pillow cover

Viewed  my surroundings,

my sofa and entrance

with a strange look;

curiosity enters now

for I  entered the house

after a long gap;

when I was with mother,

a togetherness strange

struck both of us;

partial imagination,

 partial real;

I loved the house

in the shape of a cake,

which imitated my mother’s

art and handicraft;

anything past like that

of Charles Lamb,

clock ticks mechanically

doing its duty;

we  all do our  doings

in a  mechanical way;

Time is a   big chasm

Carving our future,

We have to wait

For  a  turn

 

 

 

A rumination, now JANUARY 2024 POEM BY Radhamani sarma

 

A rumination

 

A nonagenarian, me,

Sitting in my village hut now,

recalls the  small home;

not merely four walls,

but heavenly full of love

and every moment, of mutual

share and smile .

occasional bickering

ended in mutual compromise.

upbringing was such

my grandmother starting

her day with epic and puranic tales.

Ingrained the necessity of  give and take;

Generations of children reared,

treaded the path of dharmic codes.

Whom does the age spare;

With the passage of time,

dwindled the strength

and home became a  space empty;

I am the loner, sitting

and counting my days;

home is missing, lost

only in next birth,

hope to see again the past home,

quite optimistic  and optimism

only my tonic now.

 

 

 

 

The way my being Radhamani sarma

 

 

The way my being…

 

My interesting, day, noon – all

merge with traffic, flow and immense;

you plan one thing, land up elsewhere;

expectations are high, but results lead nowhere;

 

I come across, my interactions are variegated

Doctors, lawyers, conversationalists,

Clerks and woman office goers,

Some giving me a helping hand.

 

In a  high pitch some body calls,

Pitcher some, intend to travel

Far off place and enjoy as if in  party.

The world is a  vast theatre,

 

View many actors on different stages,

Come across many stories and plots,

Many a  hidden villain behind the stage,

All going for a long time beyond time.

 

 

I get stranded where I am

My avowed plan , to move on

For the time being nullified,

World is a  stage certain.

 

 

 

 

Poem of the week: The Jailbird by Maurice Riordan The puruit of philosophy radhamani sarma

 

Poem of the week: The Jailbird by Maurice Riordan

 

  In pursuit of a philosophy:

  Often a  persistent feeling rouses in me

  An awareness, of something new, strange,

  unusual, requires my visits, my scrutiny,

   Break from routine, from shell;

  but from sometime, it was in isolate ward,

  within the corner of my heart, soul’s room,

  in its own ward, overcoming all temptations,

 at times, yields no doubt some small tempts, harmless,

  yet, an awareness taps it, for  the soul to break

 away, from the   little  show, to higher realm;

 now is the time to rise skywards,

 soar higher in pursuit of  a philosophy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

poem of the week, " just a musing" Radhamani sarma

 

 

poem of the week: 1963 by Meg  Cox

 

 

Just  a musing ….

 

 Walls with colored   tapestry,

 Curtains cute  and   quite a few drawings,

Soft with a smell invitatory for devoted

to the house from morn  till evening,

I was just sewing with a keen watch

Over  television news, amidst jostling

music and  intermediate silence;

 

sparrows  and crows

twitter about my window,

 a smooth voyage for my mood,

but sudden shift from here

leads  me where, where, I know not;

my mind rests a while,

I know not how long;

 

 

 Many a  happening through

My window, it is getting dark,

In the slow darkening hour,

Getting back home, inside,

My mind comfortable with a  lamp;

Always pray for the best,

Pray  until,  your prayers are heeded.

 

 

A stay of long endurance Radhamani sarma

 

 

A stay of long endurance

 

A new shift, new abode,

sudden with a wakeful coin

and apparel, the child, cute

and tender with a blissful smile,

kicking its tender, sponge legs;

autumnal child craving for spring bloom,

it is  a silent shift for a  salient abode,

from a tree hardbound to a feather bed,

the child unawares of new shift,

happily rolling into its world

of dream and sleep in turns.

Shift is a miracle envisaged

Shaped for a    future of bliss.

its stay in new arms,

the bright lamp and glitter,

all for a  stay of long endurance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A different stand Radhamani sarma

 

A different stand.

 

She was always there never forsook him

Condemned, always cheering and pardoning,

Evey moment of his life and living

With his upright moment, he backed him

Especially ill luck and ill health struck him;

Sparrows always circled in his garden

He did not discourage or disown them;

Enticing them with grains

Always enamored of scholars

Erudite, read books widely read and wrote;

While his last breath, he did not feel

Like loosing ; rather he clutches pillows strong;

Chants Anton  Chekov with all vigor and involvement.

Mother - symbol of sacrifice and diligence Radhamani sarma

 

 

Mother  symbol of sacrifice and diligence

I always worship faithfully

 the womb that gave birth

to me, but abhor the grave

untimely  took away my mother

when in my prime of age.

Recall her care, smile

Of affection that she cherished.

She hides well in  dark corners

Buried long long ago,

Only her blessings

She throws ever and ever

I see from here. From where

She monitors, she guides

As a  star, how to lead

A perfect life in this

Cruel world of wrong begotten

Norms and nodes.

Did I do anything to  remember

Her for ever, except a  mourning

Or memory dipped in sad  coils?

All women embodiment of sacrifice

 Live and end in  this soil;

 But what do we do for motherhood,

Women hood of sacrifice and toil:

All roped and sieved in coil

Of patience or diligence ;

a question  always remains

unanswered ;

 

 

 

here is the weight of the world Radhamani sarma

 

Where is the weight of the world

 Radhamani sarma

Where is the weight of the world….

In the clothes or folds

torn asunder things

Folds into where….

folds to be unfolded,

again to be refolded

into different patterns;

life’s foils and folds

guiding us every moment,

misguiding too;

only we need to be wary;

be it a small domestic fray

or bigger leading quay,

quay, one needs be

cautious and examine

dots and patches in folds,

vast sails be it domestic

situation, or calamities

pervasive of international

 threats. Hold strong your

holds and folds , don’t let

loose them. Her dictates

inspect all. The weight

of the world too much with us.