Glacier ( After Guardian)

Glacier  ( After  Guardian)

 Nature  cannot escape

  Eyes of History and Man

 Cannot avoid the disastrous

 Pitfalls of Nature, how cruelly

wrathful! ice flakes, ice melted

into forming ghost line

invasive of   regions abominably

gulping lands, children, fields

 and   furrows, dens, burrowed   

homes;  Science and Technology

alone redeem these affected,

putting back the mindset

glaciers  and watery forces;

let us go to mountain, pray

God   from the Altitude

And thank Him for our needs.

My pity is fake … by Miriam Neiger-Fleischman

My pity is fake … by Miriam Neiger-Fleischman

whom to pity and how ( after guardian)

 what is self pity? Whom to pity  and why?

 Question always arises looking at all

falling peanuts , strewn feathers and  

happenings around deaths and merciless

Killings, bombshells and  profuse bleeding;

 Me in the cell, suppressing all pangs

of torture  and still seeing many a victim

 In the gas chambers and handcuffed

  Awaiting judgement or final call from

  Heaven; counting dead in war field,

 identifying the innocent, selfless  torn

 amid by blood thirsty cauldrons,

 dead falling like pittance, I know not

whom to pity, kith and kin and still

fighting cells ;cant I abolish war,

cant I negate calumny: my instinct replies

it is not one man’s show, gathering

and conspiracy need be quelled;

who cares for the dead? I pity  myself

 same thing in store for me.

In search of Rope not wanted- Hope ----------------------------------------- Is skipping I need, when stressed, Is rope in race, I wheel around, Hope and hop skip -hope, Need of hour, Hope does not forsake, while cocooned in isolation away from your kith and kin, bemused by inward pangs, a rope, skip away from your rope, should I catch your lace, I know not, for Time’s stringent Scale does slant, I will not Catch your rope, nor crave it For my will and force a room Of my own, my cells and boredom To avoid, books to munch within Four walls, for sacrifice and cause In my blood, shall not sleep, Enter into your rope, for my individuality my forte, enriched by chirping birds, only melody of my remaining life only hope for your rope I shall not enter; my prison guards ever watching and my sole monitor now .

In search of  Rope not wanted-  Hope

-----------------------------------------

Is skipping I need, when stressed,

Is rope in race, I wheel around,

 Hope  and hop skip  -hope,

Need of hour, Hope does not

forsake, while cocooned in isolation

away from your kith and kin,

bemused by inward pangs,

a rope, skip  away from your rope,

should I catch your lace,

I know not, for Time’s stringent

Scale  does slant,  I will not

Catch your rope, nor crave it

For my will and force a room

Of my own, my  cells and boredom

To avoid, books to munch within

Four walls, for sacrifice  and cause

In my blood, shall not sleep,

Enter into your rope,

for my individuality my forte,

enriched  by chirping birds,

 only melody of my remaining life

only hope for your rope  I

shall not enter; my prison  guards

ever watching and my sole

monitor now .

Last days knocking at my gate

Poem of the week: Poem by Paul Bailey (after guardian)

           Last days knocking at my gate

         There  the birthday cake

          Not the time to talk of endings;

          Some more days to go,

         Some more time to be spent

         Too premature to  think about Death.

        Busy running about in schools

        carrying piles of books and drawings,

        skipping lunch and lending  hand

        to hunch and handicapped, visually impaired,

        That was not a time to think of death.

       As a ward boy, hearing wails, cries of babies,

       still born cast aside, back yards being mounded,

       eyesore to see countless come and go

       treated and turned down, dogs sniff  and go,

       that was not the time to think of death; 

       serendipity and surgery, surplus,

      and paucity, quagmire and   wanting

       quietude, all throughout like pits

      and pitfalls struck, still knocking,

      but when age  and debility strikes,

        fear of death captures my

        every moment of living ;

         This is the moment of time

        to think of death and rebirth,

         also of rejuvenation.