Neighbor

Neighbor  (Guardian)

Ye, Neighbor, here is my

 Morning Prayer when

Straight sun beamed

Green leaves  beckon .

 Blue firmament, let

Heavenly Grace  that falls

On    the   humbled  cottage

Be showered  on mine too.

Let gathering  black clouds

and  thunder vanish, as  we all

Wish  pain  be  erased  for  ever.

If  rain  falls  on  you, neighbor,

Tilt   and   let the   bounteous Mercy

Be on  us  too.   Let  not  heat

 Wilt the fading   flower   in my pot.

Walls  listens to our angst silent.

I dont much care for this 21st Century

I  don’t  much  care for  this 21^st century

We  live in a  world of technology

and  tram cars   booming sales

and  crumbling  economy,

 Pervasive  IT hubs   and   bars:

Cursed   unemployment  and robots

and  rocking moves. Tension

prevails every nook  and corner.

 No reason  and  scant  respect

 For clairvoyance  and   noble  diction,

like  the gush of sea waters,

People  roar  and romp, roar

 Beyond  comprehension.

Poison   and politicking

Like  the  gapless  traffic .

How to  undo  the snake world,

The  virile poison? There  were days

When people worshiped Snakes,

Snake  gods.  Now   a  seedy  world of

 More  poison  hurting most.

I abhor  this  near   now world

Know  not how to balance .

The Days That Forced Our Lives Apart

  The  Days  That  Forced our  Lives Apart

The  days  that forced our  lives   apart,

Nights that silenced our  aching  hearts,

The crumbling, aging  walls    that once

Protected us all, now  mere brick and mortar

 A  mix up of  old  and  new order.

The floods  that  devastated   fields,

The   deployed army, the artillery 

That  reviles   with  thunder   and  red

Blood, the  woebegone  children, 

Martyrs   and   that deceased  premature

For   all, Grave is  not matter,

Once Breath is gone, what is

Grave  or Brave, a remembrance

Of bygone life   and entity.

Days   and   nights in   rhythmic shifts.  

Are They Dream Children?

   Are  They   Dream Children?

I spot them  almost  in ragged clothes,

Noting  short of  hands with alms,

 Midst of  unmanageable   Crowds

In the signals and platforms,

They  are un fathered    children,

Craving  for  mothers’ care

Long  lost  or forgotten, or

Missed  or  abandoned  abominably.

Are  they  Elia’s Dream Children?

 I wonder  while   staring  from

Frilled  windows, aged  walls 

and  silent rooms  which  echo

My angst   and   despaired  state.

Over   the  broad cast,  Viola

In  low  notes touching  you.

The   Mystery in His Creation

always lingers  there, it is

an unanswered  question.