Introspection on Blood

    Introspection on Blood

Running in all of us, our veins,

emotions swelling along,

from birth till teasing end,

yet, fulfilling its duty,

from within, Royal flow,

Dictum of supreme judge,

Until congealed, its reign

Beneath its skin sacred.

Getting poisoned only

by poison of man and his kin

arresting red into solidified block;

scant respect and regard

for His Doings and sketch

of drawings in His unique

Creations, purchased  by money.

Yet it  a has a donor pass,

Blood transfusions and

Heart transplantations

So many innovations

With aid of blood -red blood.

Rose at random

                      Rose at random

                     What are we but a budding bunch

                    of multicolored rose plants growing

                     in steady soil, tutored by the steady

                     care of agile gardener, owner at times,

                    mostly admired for the beauty and rich,

                    tempting, also divine fragrances entwined

                    with petals and  roots beyond our ken,

                   in the sense, rootless flourish wide;

                   Time’s cruel   hands have clipped

                  and flung our stems hanging loose

                  until a fine wind blowing gathered

                   solitary pining, nourished into a growth

                   beyond   fairness  and   snatch.   

                   Winds and children’s  play

                   have stunted  our prosperous smile,

                   till a propitious boon  changed our fate;

                    we are sure to blossom and flourish

                   with copious fruits and sweet  fragrance.

                    

             

Senior most in her daily chores

    Senior most in  her daily chores    ( women centric google meet)

 

    Last  tedious note in the previous night

   Inconclusive for the succeeding busy morn

   for the women committed, is one of special

   and   carved routine into her registry of mind;

  the first knock  of milkman with the first brewing

 decoction and tiffin boxes getting packed by her

deft stroke of hands, with the stern reminder

of homework for her hurrying children with lace

outstretched in hands tightening still testing

her patience,  her eyes looking at wall clock

at the same time, waiting for  the school van

till they reach back home – a warmth and anxiety.

This is  one only aspect of her care, when business oriented

Husband  and  in laws siren like voices getting on nerves;

  Modern and modernized world, these chores of women

 Are blessings, for woman is considered Lightening lamp

Or deity of house, at the end of the day. Apart washing

And dish washing and bills paying, her priority and pain

Pleasant and many more for after all she  does all

For the sake of her house, her home, her shelter.

That is what she is meant for, her surroundings say.

 

     

Courage

Courage

It is certainly not temerity

nor rashness, but being within

one’s own limits, being aware

of repercussions of crossing

the boundary line; courage

is not going to see the lion

in the zoo in close quarters

putting your face and nose

too close, but using your

propensity of thinking

in the most appropriate way.

Courage is braving the enemy

but before being into it,

knowing your strength

and adversary’s weakness.

Courage is not finding

“quarrel in a straw”.

Courage is ascertaining

Assessing your point of view.

‘

ANGER - (ASIAN LITERARY SOCIETY)

 Anger

 Serene morning’s first wake up call

 by the cawing of crows and chirping,

breaking dawn into a day, with the first

whistle of boiling milk -all spoiled by

the anticipation of some hot words

of inmates, over active phone calls,

from afar, some corner of unknown,

dragging you into a wordy deal

while yourselves not knowing what

for this quandary, somewhere some

 mischief of dissatisfied souls plotting

 a lifelong calumny-topple your future

 all agonizing you into a crazy recoil,

 into a shell of yourselves, for out bursting

 into anger only ruins your prospects;

 Their anger provocative of your anger,

 Best  remedy keep your fingers crossed

and  look above pray  The Ultimate.

when hatred prevails;---

INCENDIARY ART (After  Guardian)

       when hatred prevails;---

       On the long day, a gunshot, sudden

     triggered from  his  tutored instrument,

      shed his blood  and   body motionless,

     a stupefaction for all surrounding;

      why this long query, why this angry mob,

      why some nonchalant, why this quandary,

       she questions herself at the altar of Church,

       not only for her, for many a passerby,

        this moment not trivial, but, crucial

        for a  life gone,  identity unclaimed,

       what for some question inwardly,

      some continue to argue, unanswered; 

      vans and school children pass,

      until cops come, his blood frozen,

      like the minds of many,  not pondering,

      still lingering in their own moods;      

      what matters for  you and me

      witnessing there for a while,

      not color, nor black or white,

     if rich or have-nots, what   matters most,

     which is lacking, which is wanting,

      the humane sense, human consciousness,

       human sense of care  and only   mutual care.

        

      

   

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.        

        

      

     

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.    

                              

                               

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.

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.

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.

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.