His strange wish Radhamani sarma

 

 A comment upon the poem following :  Radhamani sarma

Poem of the week: In Winter the Steep Lane by Peter Sansom

 

 

His strange wish

 

It is during winter, chill wind

Crossing his mood and temper,

A keen desire to go out for a  walk,

May be in search of new something.

 

Tall trees, winds, the growth

A puzzle and pleasure,

for mankind for the stem and wood

from tiny seeds  on this soil.

 

Ice cold, does not make him

walk fast, slow, slow but  driven

by a spirit of impelling force,

driving force, ahead of his energy and time.

 

Stars and snow shine  and  run

My  blood  in  mood swayed

Far ahead towards a  path

Uncontrolled by any external.

Winter still runs in me,

In my being, far ahead of  something.

 

 

 

A spell of what - Radhamani sarma

 

 

 A spell of what  poem by Radhamani sarma

 

For your special eyes, something

Throughout night, rolling amidst dark,

Gate  the recipient,  none can gainsay.

 

 Bluebell, like  a doll special,

rolls  and sweeps  the mass,

special and assertive,  weaves

 

a philosophy amidst our chaos,

seer’s perspective, teaching us

beyond our expectations.

 

But chained by our limitations,

We can not go beyond the line,

We feel at least so, we feel  strongly so.

 

The one bluebell  prevails, strong,

Prevails  our unthinking  coils,

Tapping steady and further more.

 

Always we are ready for open ,

 With our receptive mode,

The same night, same blue bell

 

Amidst our terrible inhibitions,

With a victorious banner

Of assurance and prediction.

 

 

Morning’s zoom of butterflies Radhamani sarma

 

 

    For  Glory    publication  September 2022  for  October

 

Morning’s zoom of butterflies

 

Early spring in the cheerful morn,

My garden’s  resplendent  sirens

booming around in  flowers of nectar,

Welcoming our friends zooming around.

 

Your deft stroke of usual fingers,

Delicate touch and go on  flowers,

Invitatory glance at mine  too

for a  step ahead on pluck and go.

 

Sun’s warmth mild and peeping around,

Rays gentle all sides through grills,

Straight on buds  and blossoms of perfumed

Aura for a move congenial for blessed alone;

 

How often I recall poets’ and seers’ journey

Comforted by language of prediction.

A quick   realm of parrots and  cuckoos ,

their  sharp edged beaks on kiwis.

 

A feast of delicacy and delight,

Steady zoom of butterfly,

Form  from afar  and nectar near,

to my pained heart companion dear.

 

His Majestic peep   not silken touch

On butterfly in growing hot amidst,

Inching on cupped flowers yellow and rose,

Brown and violet wings day’s feast.

 

 Home  garden and gardening

Till the last breath, steady  move  one

Nothing can deter and spoil

Unless undone by else of crooked stand.

 

A confession Radhamani sarma

 

Poem of the week: The Sunflower by Dora Greenwell                                                                                  

 

A confession    Radhamani sarma 

 

He shines fast, steady in his move,

I am bound to admire by his blossom,

Slow speed  till the eve sunset,

I, steady and spread my move along;

 

My golden orb, image for poets

and creative thinking ever steady

to roll  and speed is resplendent

for his  invite  and glow .

 

Such a powerful eye,

Ever to bewitch me ,

even in my droops and fails,

I admit I can not compete .

 

Mine is keen and steady

with a pursuit so powerful,

I have absolutely no powers

to compete  and glow.

 

So many plant and pick,

Worshipful around me

not knowing my pain,

only hours fly fast.

 

 After  all, he is my blessed comfort,

My soul can never forget,

This earth now in dusk

I  prepare  for a dawn soon.

 

 

 

 

He is and was the man Radhamani sarma

 

 

 

 

He is and was the man

She begins,

My eyes first saw,

In  the first glance,

Captured the vivid tale

Behind him.

 

Singing  aloud with the net

Rolling on hand,

Both in waters  and on land

He was special.

 

Each day was  full of galore

His play, his fishing rod,

His song vibrant with love,

Mutual and reciprocal.

 

Alas! Time is not the same,

That day he came exhausted,

Fell in her feet,

Nor more this game,

 

He said, desired to meet

Her in the next world,

So sad, sad, closed eyes,

Gentle,  a sign with her arrival .

His strange wish Radhamani sarma

 

  

His strange wish

 

It is during winter, chill wind

Crossing his mood and temper,

A keen desire to go out for a  walk,

May be in search of new something.

 

Tall trees, winds, the growth

A puzzle and pleasure,

for mankind for the stem and wood

from tiny seeds  on this soil.

 

Ice cold, does not make him

walk fast, slow, slow but  driven

by a spirit of impelling force,

driving force, ahead of his energy and time.

 

Stars and snow shine  and  run

My  blood  in  mood swayed

Far ahead towards a  path

Uncontrolled by any external.

Winter still runs in me,

In my being, far ahead of  something.

 

 

 

She is painted… Radhamani sarma

 

 

She is painted…

 

 Her dainty eyes, curly hair,

 So captivating my looks,

  I adored her always,

  Sadly missing now.

 

Her  melody, voice, her

Tune ever ringing,  a  new

Console, now lost for a  while.

Sadly missing her now.

 

Church bells  again

Find a similar rhythms

In her melodious tune

Vibrant in her appeals.

 

 Her rosy cheeks,

her caring looks,

smile full of warmth

and  tender as  bud,

 

I paint and repaint

In my diary hang it

On the wall

Unending charm of its own