Saturday, March 31, 2018

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.




























Saturday, March 24, 2018

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.   
 





Saturday, March 17, 2018

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











Friday, March 09, 2018

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.








Saturday, March 03, 2018

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.