Three poetess ( Guardian)

Three  poetess ( Guardian)

Three poetesses dressed in

full decorum, around polished

oval shaped table, group their

discussions on poetry and meter.

Suddenly   a man comes

 through  the back door

 on friendly note and terms,

smiles to begin a conversation.

Is he a poet, or a stranger?

a wizard, a  snow man dripping ?

or  a sage or miracle man

tying talisman to the needy?

The three are alive to the

Situation yet converse in

full throated ease, their

point of view tapping the Muse.

Just as  the door, air peeps in

and out, their books glow

turn the pages, the mirror

opposite reflect all in grandeur.

As he came, the figure walked out.

  

After---- Manhattan by Lola Ridge

After---- Manhattan by Lola Ridge

Out of the night,you burn, burn,

City’s attraction and fame

attracting vast tourists like

A sudden flame, numinous  

In its burning through :

Capturing markets and trade centers

Just as Gold in uppermost corners

Shining with a glow and  spark;

Jades and  blues almost fanning

Sky’s jubilant star kingdom.

Diaphanous gold in tall towers,

in stock markets  and  chambers

Of commerce   and   storied buildings

change hand to hand in different modes.

Trading  soaring into dizzy heights!

Nebulous gold, example of ephemeral

glory and vanishing principles rampant

in gambling and business shifts and lifts

mechanical in up and down exercises.

Still you glow glow into

ever-increasing charm

of full blown harvest nodding.

After Guardian ( A corner of the road)

After Guardian   ( A corner of the road)

As  I have  a  stroll in the wake

Of pristine Dawn, cool moon

Still shining, a gangly rose bush

Five flowers of hope and opulence

Spreading  aura along the pathway.

Constellation of the  Goat is there

glowing like  a message of   Messiah!

No drought! Water flows and pink

Blooming! but suddenly I witness

A reverse elsewhere “The ditch ran ink”

Is it due to the soil or the times?

Diurnal falling slow, night shadowed

by another shadow; I began to see,

me in helpless predicament. A ray

of  Hope  in the white sky

“Constellation of the Goat is there”

A Spirit breathes in

A  Spirit breathes in

It is not a  black granite

or  carved  idols  of some

Indian  deities we worship

by offerings of sandal paste,

fragrant flowers and holy waters,

It is not a blotched plant,

bunch of sacred leaves,

décor adorning the  urn,

sprinkles holy all around

the venerable spot of Belief,

Not the Mantra chanting

aloud  or  Vedic recitals

of scholars and erudite pundits,

propitiating   Gods and  angels

throughout the day from Dawn,

neither the offerings of

puddings and   rice cakes

of jaggery and pure ghee

flowing in plantain leaves

or holding in sacred vessels,

mind wandering elsewhere,

application rescinded or duplication

entertained with currency embalmed

in  conscience of convenience,

but a Firm Dedicated Spirit

of Absolute Surrender to  HIS WILL

that prevails His Domain and care.

After (The Quiet Snow by Raymond Knister)

  After  (The Quiet Snow by Raymond Knister)

Snow is speed enough

Static train or moving trucks

curvature of tracks, it snows,

merciless and snowy still.

Open the window ajar,

look through window.

If it is still snowing;

There is a space less

 rhythm in its fall,

 though may not be

in your flavor. All

activity in standstill,

yet moving ahead.

walkers  and  vendors

office goers and busy

commuters view this

mirage throughout.

Mirage for it is

melting soon.