Sunday, May 31, 2020

A home I never forget (after Poem of the week: Godhuli Time by Srinivas Rayaprol)


                  
    
        Past five in the evening, when dark sets in,
          Sun rays evasive, back in its orb, bird  calls
          gathering clan to their hard-built coves,
           Cottages, high vaulted roofs, reflect smells
           Incense in sanctum sanctorum, when  coal
           and fire wood about to be doused, burn their parts;

            those going back home, for fresh shower,
            young and newly wed after their stay in park,
             homemade coffee and grandma’s rosery bead
            in sanctum sanctorum, home work in slate
            and pencil practice –by children well -tutored
            by rigorous teachers trained by disciplined scales.

              Away from home, away from temple chime,
              far away from my motherland, my heart beats
             with the rhyme of ancestral soil and lineage
              ringing time and again, singing glory and kudos
              to Victorious  land of labor  and sacrifice.    
                              
                               

Sunday, May 24, 2020

Corsage



CORSAGE

   Not  a  flower of amaranthine  nature,
 but  a  buddy Rose of fragrance,
lasting on my buttonhole,
 with a smile of endurance
and grandeur, sits steady and firm

as  woman of   firm household
 minding and binding in the hearth.
A precious GIFT from her good self,
The  gentle serenading of Rose,
A move  0f lullaby  and sleep,

 Tapping around  white  garment
 Travelling all over as a  faithful
  Servant  clinging on ; a breeze afar
  Welcomes you with a  bliss
  Of boon passing on to the  Giver.

 A  morrow for all of us with a
Waking Dawn and buttonhole
 Smiling steady and stay ever.









Saturday, May 23, 2020

What for this friend ship ( after(Poem of the week: Ambala by Shanta Acharya


 What for this friend ship   ( after(Poem of the week: Ambala by Shanta Acharya


A friendship  blossomed in  college;
Beauty and attraction  began tempting
 tampering our hitherto unspoiled mood
and upbringing strengthened by our parental
 advice  and counsel . But there is always
other side,  lure  of  beauty, attraction
all for this skin and flesh eating mankind
alive from time immemorial. She enters
with a  mask and  thick thighs stretching,
advancement of her scented hands 
beckoning a  call ;  My instinct guided
by ethics  enters  into a pact of denial,
preaches a philosophy of sanctity,
restriction, a principle governing  all
words if admonition and check
driving away slowly her mood and matter
of indulgence. Think of future, body
affected  by nurture of this negative
friendship, I  tell her adjusting her hair,
prevailing upon life’s responsibility,
a change comes slow    and sudden
Reformation,  look up to Heavens
And Thank for all HIS  Succor.





Saturday, May 16, 2020

A take after ( Guardian’s Bronze and blaze”



A take after ( Guardian’s  Bronze and blaze”

Whether I was a grass or grasshopper,
Inadvertently trampled or strewn
by  crudity or agricultural norms
green slowly turned to yellow
to be effaced by the  hasty hands;
I cannot predict my past;

colors and radiance I did not know
 for my little life or lifeless, when man
takes upper hand or nature’s calamity
striking one and all; still hanging on roots
in soil tuned by vagaries of weather.
How to be sustained or how long?

North   has an appendage of luck
And  flow, shine and glow,
 air of salient aura
Passing through my window
 Enabling  growth and  glitter,
Somewhere   gunfire blows.

Warring deadly prevails in man
In all ages in all instincts,
Beyond redemption.


Sunday, May 10, 2020

Imagining me in the Other World



Imagining me in the Other  World            

I am in the strange word, know not
 If the time is ripe or Dictum of  His Will
Propitious, strange experience;

My home, my private chamber, replete
with books and leaves falling, powdered
 ancient preserves of my clinging to them; 

what is happening to the cow shed, young calf
just born coming round, mother’s  affectionate  
touch, in between chewing  the grass ;


century old home , pillared structure,inmates
 moving round each in his or her choosy aura,
 now after pursuit of different modes ; why?

 Sin and sinning, infighting and thirst after
 gold and coin, swallowing one another,
reduction of  beings into nothing, nothingness

prevails all around, making many wonder
at the nothingness of   existence,
only nothing  remains , nothing only;


Only Hope prevails, rebuilding
Our shattered ruins , gathering like
Sparrows  twittering.












Saturday, May 09, 2020

THEMES :PEACE AND HUMAN VALUES

Peace

You cannot run like an avid sportsman   kicking   ball
from foot to pillar wiping your flowing sweat fondly
touching your shirt-wet with your skin hot hot.

Running after Peace, in marketplace of wear and tear,
amidst jostling crowd, do you see or  grab it?
Is it a sari decked on the super model

or  is it   spicy  birthday cake to be displayed
on  a Tanjore   plate of ancient carve of exquisite              
tradition criss cross overwhelming all our eyes of taste?

At the end of the day, go home searching
In the eyes of cute kids welcoming with smile
Cherubic and serene, sipping juice in tasty buds ooze;

Peace!  Can it be bought like a peanut  butter
for a momentary gulping with a coke or sprite:
spreading like a  banana jam on  whole wheat bread;

or brushing aside hundred lies for  one momentary survival
in fast moving like concord taking our breaths away.
Wheeling and wheeling leading us nowhere.

Peace! Peace! Under the bodhi tree in the past,
Now in closed corner, away from din and bustle.


Love towards have-nots - (human values)


Walking on the footpath

Walking on footpath, goggles on your eyes,
 your   decorated   eyeliner and sophistication
with foreign umbrella tilting   and exotic perfume
all around you, colorful handbag gentle 
on hand tucking away your silk  sari away lest
it should reach the beggar   with a touch
 of itch , you careful on the path, but least
caring for his dented vessel  for alms, to suffice
his hunger and day and night with his kids
in tattered rags dependent on him ;

you throw away  a  coin-   not out
of your urge for   fellow feeling or
concern for his precarious situation,
but your eight-year-old should not
chide you for ignoring and callousness.
The sensible bends down to remove the
half hearted coin; instead gently puts
below ten rupees note in his hands.
A  mockery for his  father and like-minded.
A life bereft of gentle and understanding no use.

 POEMS SUBMITTED FOR POETRY FESTIVAL

Why this desertion ? ( After Guardian’s chess player)


                                                                                                                
Why  this desertion ?  ( After Guardian’s  chess player)

Why this abominable  desertion? Why this lonely despair?
why this migratory birds move along to their native soil,
 some in search of a better place , prospects of feeding their
starved stomachs, why children and toddlers still sleep,
unaware of  chaos going on around them, why courier services
and postman  on a holiday pack much against their will;
school  and colleges on a move of negation and exam postponed;
but children enjoy their own time with the restricted move
of indoor game, for moms and rules have a watchful eye;
sky moving in its own direction, moon behind clouds playing
hide  and seek, grass  shoot out at the mercy of soil, why this
restrictions, know not, even  at the game of chess players
have to think where and whom to check , always a spectator
watching all unseen and un noticed.






Saturday, May 02, 2020

The New Song ( after Guardian)



 The New Song  ( after Guardian)

It is not Sufi song, but a song
of different kind, kindling our
little pleasures amenable at
our will and times; can you find
this song of pleasure, from groves,
rivers, pastures, know not; not
a burning smoke of hearts,
destroying cities, but  dying song
wholly ours.
Flowers, tales  and stories
dances, jumping from place
to place, dreaming and delving
into a dizzy morrow, for  a sweet
better morrow. Where are we now:
Angels calculations do they go wrong;
Do they preach on  Souls,  rebirth
Reincarnations; not now, still we
Care for our selves, our beings.
A dying song of no redemption
No liberation, only surrender
Towards  the end.