Free as freedom of those swimming

Free as   freedom of those swimming;

Who will not like birds? from poets

to potters and hunters to painters?

In my home garden crows and sparrows

Parrots occasional, swing on branches

Of tree tops; what more consolation

Than the melody of the observant,

 Conversant tapping you from your

concerns, cap less moods

tormenting you now and then;

the birds not only are décor on

my cloth line swinging   having 

a wholesome birds’ eye view,

also even in chirping you learn

 a language of unknown Vedas .

Light winged swim on the blue

God’s  favored design, else

How man would have invented

Aircraft  and concord  to come

Around the world. I wonder often

Why the wingless is in mad pursuit?

When the winged in salient zone

Carefree and higher and  higher.

he was the guardian -angel ( after Guardian) our old lady of the Rain

She was the guardian -angel ( after Guardian) our old lady of the Rain

         She was older than all the

         Structured pillars of the ancient houses,

         well known for her oral chanting of

          some cure for scorpion bite with pepper

          in her palm; a nonagenarian with shrunken

          flesh yet strong will prevailing upon, she

           is the divine spirit for the dead;

            certainly not the other way round;

           in the afternoons, when the decrepit cement

           and limed mortar fall, she would with

           childlike simplicity replaster, speaking to

            her affectionate walls; walls that listened

             to her, shared her inner voice, stood by

             her.  Pained to see how pollution and gas

             have tarnished the image  and dwelling

            order of the day. She would sit in  corner

             asking for re image. She is the  Guardian

             Angel of the ancient house.   

 

your intuition your guide ( after Twice a river) guardian

Your intuition your guide (  after twice a river) Guardian)

 Sitting by the perennial river

In my hamlet, my abundant gratitude

For the unfailing River, when the adjoining

Village struggles of intermittent drought,

Cannot imagine how could life be without

Water, observing my son playing kites,

 Wonder how will he when he grows up

In this   world of Trying and crusades;

How can I unravel the story of our exodus?

From a remote war-torn place, when religion

and economy pushed us to extremes.    Love

and Language always shape us human beings,

hate none is the dictum, but love self is the

immediate order, for depression is the deadliest

of the canker as far as I know; he must learn the

  to assess   and observe surroundings and be

guarded by intuition. Dictates of intuition --

the    expertise tutelage. Majestic roars and mighty

  ocean are always ever since creation by us.

 Can you run to the ocean at the time of thirst?

 The Earth that bears dead and living also

Bears sinners  and seditious, My son! You need to be

 Cautious and patient ever folding your hands to HIM.

A  mark of respect for the departed,  and  silent by

Silent offerings will be  feasible. River always our

Best solace  and boon

My asylum myself

1)     

           My asylum myself

 Time past is past. Time gone,

  My friends were killed,

 warfront was more a place

of comfort and commitment

for them, They are now martyrs.

Age has its gnawing toll and dash,

I keep writing at least, scribble

In a momentary pad of flow;

 For thews and sinews

Slow down due to impact of age;

At times, my wife writes for me.

My friends are all gone now.

My home, my corner of my choice

and myself are my forte and my

New Life The beginning of a

New  span  - a  New Life.

All twined into one

1     That bright Chimeric beast  ( after  Guardian)

All twined into one:

That sweet cute bird of   Melody

and inspirational voice of Muse

 that polyvocal  deity residing

in the breast of poet, tapping

rthyms   of solitude, serenity,

 flowing through his quill

a great Boon and   Beatitude.

That white unicorn possibly

Befriended by you, might not

take to flights of mundane fancy.                  

There is another phoenix

From whose burnt embers

Another be reborn, who knows

You might review that bird

Tonight: like phoenix that

           will not be stirred by falcon

           or  eagle, you too shall stand

            or move in search of asylum.  

You are  the  great  fish, centering

Round the fable of imagination,

The colorful fins always emitting

Streams of delightful forte and move.           

 Let all merge into poet’s dream

Where death and dead shall

Undergo  a change   to be reborn,

Beam and wood  and  gurgling

Stand by a  pledge of solidarity

Not to forsake you all.