Deep rooted reflection ... Radhamani sarma

 

Poem of the week: Upon Wedlock, and the Death of Children by Edward Taylor

 

 

Deep rooted  reflection on family

 

Do you ruminate upon wedlock,

difficult to comprehend and  proceed.

Here is an example wedded deep

In flowers, perfumes, oaths  dipped

In love,  Love’s  knot, beyond  undoing.

 

Flowers, loose leaves, broad and  bright

Choose  and choice, colored and mixed

On the table, a  group solace endless,

Out birds and chicks moving fast, fast,

Hither  and thither, for a life new on wings;

 

Many a flower shoots  from one branch,

light after light, leaf after leaf, branch

after branch, salutary influence on mankind,

holy and sacred in God’s  place, special

for meditation and offering all the day.

 

 Glory, prayer  consistent did ascend

 comprising peace  and prosperity,

 for a life in earnest prayer and solitude,

flowers sacred,  flowers serene  and sweet

 adorn for all sad  and sober, yet compromise.

 

After all earnest chanting and prayer,

embedded in routine and  familiar shaping,

rhythm and regularity, Glory and chanting

name of  God  The Almighty, all, seeing ,

 watch  all the time, also, safety the mantra in all.

 

Prayer, absolute  selfless chanting,

Prayer in all its  forms, only glory  going on.

 

Saxophones on air in my hand Radhamani sarma

 

Saxophones on air in my hand

 

 

My mood, my board, my keys

On four fingers, internal flow

On air, breathe  and smooth

blow with a rhyme and tune

carefree  and strengthened yet.

 

Looking above, he jostles

amid tension and turmoil

voiceless for he sees as

a world of noise  and nuisance;

moving ahead is a great ordeal,

 

these  notes on saxophone,

with  a pitch and breathe

lingering in me, around me

for the instrument is my birthright,

 

no birds, no pecks,  no “ma”

no belching cow  in the vicinity,

no slowness, drudgery bugging,

only a saxophone  truth saying

my life is all in the instrument.

 

 

 

 

Only when everything goes well.... Radhamani sarma

 

CPC  JUNE  2022

 

Only when everything goes well….

 

It is her  inward pain, her  silent brood,

Irreconcilable mood  and make,

like  the rotten wound  not  bandaged,

undressed, uncared  and unhealed;

 

days  and hours  of solitary  paining,

her struggles  and exploitation voiceless,

only viewing morning’s caw and peck

in its mechanical world  of open balcony;

 

sudden wisdom or realization dawns upon,

a saying within herself, repeat, repeat, repeat,

only when everything goes well…

all around will  go well,  smooth  and soft

 

like  porridge well cooked  down inside

throat crave  and thirsty for quick remedy,

your gulp  and swallow  for aches in and out,

only when everything goes well …..

 

you set right the stopped needles,

run clock, battery in watch, recharge cells,

but  cannot set right certain people,

until Time  THE PANACEA intervenes!

 

Along  your morning drink, coffee or  tea

You mix  this coinage, your inward pill,

Inculcate within yourself, oft and on,

Only when everything goes well …..

 

Leave the rest to your appendage,

Conclusion to your worldly image.

 

 

 

Bonded AffinityrADHAMANI SARMA

 

Poem of the week: Last Hope by Ben Wilkinson

 Bonded affinity ……

Don’t think about graveyard so terrifying,

 Neither do you ponder about oak strong

 and  sturdy with edifice  not for challenging;

 free  air all with healthy bustle roaming about

drawing you free in its penfold with aura 

somewhat wholesome  and  though  around yard

no stones embedded with writes, bullying you,

no memory so horrid on every visit dilating 

all remnants till now around your pockets.

A song from the branches  not bitter layer,

but sweet mood hampering your sour appeal

from throat of a  bird accustomed to the arena;

 

love or lost love, yielding  pained moments,

where is counterpart, unheard voice from afar,

memory or fiasco in all its wounded pride;

in the lost hope,  rewinds  sudden  echo

replete with a  bonded affinity of galore

  

 

AIR

 

Poem of the week: Air by Victoria Adukwei Bulley

 

Air

 

From patio to garden

Springs of blows free

Unchecked, you are friend

Our inevitable, salutary;

 

unseen at times, your angered

moments devastating, cause

unknown to us, yet a crave

boon imperative for us all times.

 

 You come, inhale and exhale,

  from our lungs, inspiration,

  propelling for a poem  unchecked,

  all in open air how fine and glowing!

 

 Our life, our living, our writing

 all from your grace, glow, blow

 prolong our longevity, for family

unity and coherence and strength.

 

 

 

 

 

 

not turning the calendar Radhamani sarma

 

• Not turning the calendar
  

  
  

   
  

  
  

  The first whistle of milk boiler,
  

  
  

  The early  bird call in your balcony,
  

  
  

  Dawn’s wisdom rooted in rhythms,
  

  
  

  tune  of sacred  Vedas in  television,
  

  
  

   day to  day act designed in her home;
  

  
  

   
  

  
  

  either  by its own course  ordained,
  

  
  

  or willed by human, tuning  to seek peace
  

  
  

  these  go on undisturbed in her
  

  
  

   household serene, not  a void sure.
  

  
  

  Mind’s pure solace for ages  ancestors’ crave.
  

  
  

   
  

  
  

  Turning her calendar in its  majesty,
  

  
  

  tearing off the page or  previous  pages
  

  
  

  with dates  and notes , dues and rounds,
  

  
  

  her  morning’s must and rapturous norm
  

  
  

  words  beyond expression  now.
  

  
  

   
  

  
  

  One day she missed turning calendar,
  

  
  

  Her mindset with the same month before,
  

  
  

  hence everything was amiss, with all  calculus,
  

  
  

  booking and train re booking, jubilations
  

  
  

  postponed or cancelled  against her class. 
  

  
  

   
  

  
  

  Not after  all  a paper, or papers in order.
  

  
  

  Your order set by, fingers by command,
  

  
  

  Of mind , mood , to have orderly sail,
  

  
  

  Violated if you miss your memory the day;
  

  
  

  Yes  calendars or Seers  going before for us.
  

  
  

   
  

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