Where am I, what am I? Radhamani sarma

 

 

pOEM BY RADHAMANI SARMA

Where am I, what  am I?

 

********

I feel weak and tired,

Despite the indomitable will,

Fight back with vigor,

My mind vague and empty ,

Drawn at times to globe around.

 

Days have fled, youth has gone,

Fresh skin has deserted ,

Color merged with dried skin,

Tedium of past, old age, taps

In all its unyielding pressure.

 

Fly above, fly high, fly  more

Into  zones  worth exploring,

While tedium and vex move

A pressure to combat further

Till all application proved futile.

 

Bird dons  apparel of freedom,

Freedom  flies with unchecked speed,

Into global realms of joy

Into realms of vast vistas,

Realm to be explored further.

A confession by mother POEM BY RADHAMAI SARMA

 

POEM BY RADHAMANI SARMA

 

 

A confession by mother

 

I may look modern, ultra modern,

Sound different from convention,

But totally I am conventional,

Thread of tradition running

Through each and every move.

 

My family, my children and members

Know pretty, that I am wedded to family,

Domestic chores, only a little modern,

Where expected to satisfy  worldly  norms.

Tradition runs through my blood.

 

Family,  bonds  and  bounty,

Rules  and regulations  striking

All through every minute and moment,

Conventions care as if mother

Cares every moment of her life.

 

A FREE EXPRESSION cpc 22/oct APOEM BY RADHAMANI SARMA

 

A FREE EXPRESSION    POEM BY RADHAMANI SARMA

 

A bunch of straw treaded

In the field no longer green,

Ready for plucking and uprooted,

A free  expression on key board;

 

 Un attended, undaunted, untuned,

A mass of gruesome collection,

Hitherto all green fleshy bloom,

A free  expression on garbage bag;

 

Morning’s fresh coffee or tea

Smokes  emanating in rolls

Hot for tongues and tastes,

A free  sips of expressions  lengthy;  

 

All flies and insects crawling mass

Leaves or greens and rots or rotten;

Kitchen sink  or uncleaned corners,

All free expression  in exploitation;

 

Poems or blogs, puns or funs, haiku or hits,

Free or traditional, classics or modern,

Running in pages  and bulky volumes ,

A Free expression of flow  and fruitions;

 

First tap in the serene morn,

easy flow on vessels and scrubs,

foaming soaps and sediments,

all on  a free flow of muddy water.

 

A free expression is unique

Bouncing every where  these hard times!

 

A take upon the above by followed by Radhamani sarma

 

Poem of the week: I  Am Not A Falconer by Caroline Bird)

 

 A take upon the above by followed  by Radhamani sarma

A long wait,  long standing,

Long observation, long chain

of thoughts all  eternal flow

from within ;dan or dusk no matter,

 

Amidst heavy rains, I stand

Wait for her, asking for forgiveness,

If anything goes amiss, but nowhere

Is she seen, what could be the reason?

 

Where is  the falcon? Where is the fly?

Where is my little sweet girl? Where  am I?

I am asking GOD a question,

How long, do I miss her;

 

On speedy wings, on your return,

Let  us fly fa r along, fly , fly

To a destination unknown,

Our own world of privacy.

 

A long wait,  long standing,

Long observation, long chain

of thoughts all  eternal flow

from within ;dan or dusk no matter,

 

Amidst heavy rains, I stand

Wait for her, asking for forgiveness,

If anything goes amiss, but nowhere

Is she seen, what could be the reason?

 

Where is  the falcon? Where is the fly?

Where is my little sweet girl? Where  am I?

I am asking GOD a question,

How long, do I miss her;

 

On speedy wings, on your return,

Let  us fly fa r along, fly , fly

To a destination unknown,

Our own world of privacy.

Morning’s zoom of butterflies butterflies time day Radhamani sarma

 

 butterflies, time day

Morning’s zoom of butterflies

 RADHAMANI SARMA

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.