Manna From Heaven

  Manna  from   Heaven

Shelly’s  wintry bed,

Byron’s   mighty ocean,

Keats’ west  wind aura,

Wordsworth’s  leaping  heart

And   colourful Rain, the

Azure  sky  carrying  so

Much of  innovations and

Technological intrusions,

All  get wet, jubilant by

The   rain bearing  clouds

 Concomitant   drops.

The  dry  leaves  fallen

On  the ground  typify

Age’s  metaphor. For All,

for Those, rain drops are

Manna from Heaven.

    Our itch  and Sketch.

“  our   Beauties  are not ours”.

Autumnal Flowers, the ground

Smeared, loaded with  uncanny

Leaves, the  broken sounds

Of  aridity on the  pond, nearby.

Age  has its toll on them too.

We  are no exceptions, wrinkles

On our  skin, the itch and  sketch,

Are  the  undoubted  monopoly

Of  Age. Age’s doing and undoing.

 Oh! Man! Slow  on your steer, 

  Let  the Clutches  be under your

  Purview. Our  Beauty is  only

  A passing shadow. In  due course

  They  are our  Beauties are

  At  the mercy of Beauty parlour.

  

Grey sky, white beams of Sun

 Grey sky, white   beams of  Sun

  Grey   sky, Straight white beams

 of    gubernatorial  Sun, twinkle  of stars,

A galaxy carrying  all our ancestors’ souls;

All  get clouded, transient   and temporal;

All come and go, take  turns  to govern

Yet  on  a  lasting  ambiance.

Small  or   big Nature  always fascinates,

Enthralls, tutors   and  warns  all of us.

Grey(ing )is  always there in

Some  unpalatable  form or other.

We  sit  still, stillness  is  there

Only calm and  guide.  We watch

The influx of humanity moving

About, throb  and sensation .

Extraordinary   moment of  

Ordinariness   stemming  into

Realization, grey  is

Inevitable. Live the resplendent

Part  and remember it.

We  continue to write

And reflect  and record,

We have to live.

I Hold My Love

   I  Hold My Love.

In My Cupped palm

Of  criss cross lines,

I hold you, my Love!

You  are my breeze,

My bonanza, my bouquet!

Opening  like a  flower

Blossoming  into eternal,

Lasting  fragrance  dwelling

In Unshakable  Edifice.

I   hold  you my  Love.

Hidden  behind   gossamer

veil of fritter  and  frill,

aroma  of  Breeze peeps

In   and  out  of  the  window.

Curtain  partakes   of  the

Jubilation  Of Love’s  mirth.

 I hold you my Love,

My song, melody  rejuvenates

From   the tombs of

Antony  and  Cleopatra

Their  dead  angst into

 Not  A  Permanent  Threnody

But    everlasting   Bliss.

I hold  you  my  Love.

 Not a   cake, but a   cakewalk

Into  a life of  serendipity

And  high  thinking.

The World Is..

The World Is .....

The World is in

 In The  Process of Ending;

In  an imaginary  quest

Of  burning  the

Hot  sand, the  lonely  

Desert, not as  a marauder,

A ride on the horse,

Hoofs  make imprints.

Trample upon uncared for

Dying Plants, half  dead insects,

Sands, sand  dunes  voice

Eerie, lonely  chores.

Huskiness  dwells in.

Far  beyond  the  edge,

A  spooky  giant  like,

A  Tree  by  a  pond;

Miles  to go  far beyond,

When  Thirst  throttles

You  are not dying:

World is almost ending.

A Doleful plea to the policemen ( prompted by ghastly newspaper reports of innocent dying in prison.)

 A Doleful plea to  the policemen

( prompted  by ghastly  newspaper reports of innocent dying in prison.)

Ye! Policemen, you are great,

You protect  the public, on rounds

Dutiful  and  vigilant.  Catch   thief

Count  perils too. Yet  in most cases,

 milk  of human kindness, miserably

Is missing. Let your kaki livery,

Hardened  Lathe  be more  poised

Not poisoned   by the  stringent  Law

Of  rigour   and  legal   thumb.

Let  not  luxury  be  lashes of

Your  Lathe, let  patience and

And  Reason  rule  your  roost.

Your  promotion  should  not

Demote  a  soul  into  a flicker

Of  soulless  life. Let  your  finger

Point  to  the  right, let   not your

Legs  rough  the  subtle. Open

Your  eyes, see  your loving

Daughter  and  son in victim

 In front of you.  You can  let go

One guilty  but not one innocent

 be punished. Remember this

Law  from  Above.

Sawing of the Wood

            Sawing  Of  the  Wood

Sitting  on the Mahogany   table 

 I  View  the Chippendale curio

On the wall, an emblem of  grandfather

Days, decor on the  long painted wall.

The  same  hearth  also  saw  the

Cabin  of termites in the backyard .

Ere the days of chainsaw, the raw

Wood cutting, carpenter’s dexterity

Coupled with his see-saw axe.

Saw  history  and serendipity,

 Designer’s  technical   mastery.

The  wood  cutting   a   rough job

 It  is  a  seasoned semi roar from

The  hands  and  the  blades of  axe.

Saw  dust   sprinkled   all over

 Besmear  the  scenario. Now

 I see  the about to be felled

 Round giant   Tree. A segregation

Of  Nature from  Man.Eve’s  Taste

Our distaste. Distaste  for much.

In the darkness, falls  many a leave

For   a  bright  morrow

 to  unravel mystery.  

Lullaby

        Lullaby

 From  Dusk  to  Dawn,

 She   dreams in  the lawn.

She  holds  the cute   tiny,

Leans  against her roomy

Shoulder  to  pat  with  lullaby.

Ever  since  that  day on  role,

Of  a   class   she was sterile,

Agile  enough  to  console,

Also  to console  her soul .

Stretches   a lullaby  full.

 Recollects  her  days of

 grandma’s   falling   hands  

Rocking  a  cloth  cradle

Sets  in tune of  ageless 

Melody  and  timbre .

It  is  a  colorful  doll

Made  to  sleep  to  her tune.

Time's Travelogue.

         Time’s Travelogue

    In  a  moment of   reverse

    Adjudication   of pondering,

   Time  doesn’t  fleet nor fly.

   It  takes its own  steady course

  On its embittered wheels.

 At times  coarse  tapping

Your  memory. Otherness 

Is  always  there.  Its  doing 

And   undoing a wonder.

 It  is a  crow morn  to  noon,

Hop  skips on the  brown stems

Or branches, looking  askance

and  pecking  hither  and thither.

Wheeling  on Time’s   immutable circa

You wonder at those  basking  in the

Luminous galaxy, a   rebirth of

Their  identity. For  some,

 A wanted   quick  release

From  this  cacophonous  trauma .

Say The Word Death.

   Say   The Word   Death

Death strikes  many with

A  blow off. The final begin

Of a  journey to an unknown,

Unknowable. A stiffening state

Soon  to be dismembered

Into embers of  flames.

A sleep into the  ordained  Deep.

Into  the  Other world  or  Nether world.

Yet for  some, Death wish

Is  a  relief from the unendurable

Pain of  body  or tormenting  Soul.

The  stupid  step of  tormenting

Soul  for ever, ever. For  the onlookers

A  feel of ‘could have lived  Life better’ .

For  the  Foreseeing  Potter,

the multi task of gyrating,

How  to  fix  the Soul  and

 Where   In  Whom .

Behind these hard strings..

     Beyond Misery a   clout .

    Behind   Mystery a  cloud.

    Behind ostentation in  some 

   Cases, shallow  thrill

   Sooner  to  desiccate.

    Life  shrouds  another life,

    even  swallowing   uncertainty,

    Opens  like  lobes of

    Plantain; on  most occasions,

    Like   a   seasoned   thug,

     Only   upon   severe  

     Interrogation, Multi layered  

     hinges touch upon

     but  not  Demure.

     You  are boiling, with  Calm

    Stays  the surface  of   your heart.

Clay

       Clay

Decor  in my balcony

Inculcating   a Belief

It  wards off evil

In the first look

At the morn.

From  the  pot of  clay

A dainty Rose blossoming,

We forget the clay, but

Not the Rose. Water every day,

 Cool the clay pot,

Buds the  Rose,

We forget the pot

Of clay. We tend to

Forget  the Creator,

Gain  the laurels.

Mostly that is how

It works.

        Prisoner  weeps   silently

 It  is  not French medieval prison.

It is contemporary cell  for  the  branded

Criminal. Victim  branded by the  police

And law in force  but  not by the  legal,

 Judiciary.   Verdict  is   awaited.

  His guiltless ,free  conscience within  

 Weeps to the walls.  Not totally

Contemporary, ere Modernity took

Its   reels; cells   grind  his day

And  night.  One  day, from the

Platform took him, mauled him

For  drinking, slowly entangled

Him  for  a  murder, he didn’t

Have   an  iota  of clue. Ruthless

Police  could  only  show  their

Prowess on him .Whips their  rains ,

 Merciless,  Privilege on him,

for none he had To argue, for he was pauper,

His rags, his companion throughout.

 Chagrin of his life, his routine .

Yet, Meditation, prayer, his solace.

Sun’s  ray ,regular beam through the

 Cells ,affirms  to solace  him, intuition

Augurs  he will be scotfree.

The Three Rules.

     The   Three   Rules.

  This  unfaltering  canopy,

This  world  is  governed  by   

Three   unique  cardinal  Rules

Ever  since  superb  Creation,

Creation, Protection, Destruction .

Planned, sustained   and calculated

Respectively. Of course, according

To one’s own  Karma.

Within this ambit of vastness,

Life   and leadership  and luminosity

All  take place. Words  lead to

Complexity  and  misunderstanding

At times.  Misinterpretations  too.

Sometimes   tantamount   to  eternal

Waiting  for a   platform in which

Trains  don’t  arrive  at all.

Existence  notates  within the

Inevitable  Rs thus:

Rainbow, Romance, Reconciliation,

Recreation, reproduction, retribution.

Anyway  Life  has  to go on.

New Year poem 2016

                                                                          New Year  Poem  2016 

                                                                   New Year  Poem  2016

                                                               IT  is  fresh  start  of  the NEW YEAR

                                                               The Unique  Umbrella  unfolding

                                                               To  encompass  as  many as possible;

                                                                Seamless  assurance to thwart all

                                                                Deadly, heinous to  protect us all.

                                                                Flood   and  fury  be  no more,

                                                                Rain   and  sunshine with  Peace

                                                                Be  prevail  Evermore, near  and far.   

                                                                Let  Reason  and  Sanity  guide

                                                                And  guard   Man’s  instinct

                                                                With Fear  for  the Almighty.

                                                                Radiance ! Glow and glow

                                                                In  each one  of us.

                                                                                           

Platitude of Longitude.

                                                     Platitude  of longitude.

     

                                                   Ward  off   this  noon visitor

                                                   Regular  siesta.  Here lies

                                                   A welcome  substitute.

                                                   In front  of Chess board

                                                   Of black and  white,

                                                   A  pawn and  checkmate.

                                                   Within the square block

                                                   You veer round, across ,

                                                   Horizontal, vertical.

                                                    Life’s moves are

                                                    Mysterious, Awesome.

                                                   In  another move  you  mix

                                                   Part  of  Science  and  Literature

                                                   Theology  and geology and  astronomy.

                                                   All roads lead  to the path of  Heaven,

                                                   Seamless  reflection everything 

                                                   Is  His Will and  Creation.  Now

                                                   I  opt  for  a   selfsame  Shift.

                                                   Now me, a neglected baggage

                                                   in the  Corner seat of  my compartment

                                                   resign   to quirky dealings  of  happenings.

                                                   It  moves  slowly, breaking  rhythms,

                                                  Billowing   puffs of smokes

                                                  Unable to counteract with  the  storm

                                                   within. jerk  is  always  there.

                                                   The peel of

                                                  New Year brings  fervent

                                                   Hope   and optimism replete.

Viewing Star

            Viewing    Star.

There is   always a  Star, in everyone’s life

Glimmers  in times  earnest. In the  wake of Dawn,

 Through my window, I watch humanity

Undoing  stillness in the hustle bustle, run    

 On its heels to become a star or undo

  Its dissipation. Vedic chanting goes on

 In   full  throb. Camphor propitiates aura.

 Day  falls  through hectic activity.

There isn’t one  star, but  a  full galaxy

Pouring down. Till Yesteryear

I viewed stars  twinkle  and often

 Hear   the Recital  “twinkle, twinkle little star”.

 But  awakening  stirs up new vistas

 Where are the kith and kin?

 Our departed  souls?  are  stars

Embodiment of Souls? do they speak?

Are  they  happy   and glow in the

Other world of firmament.

 Other Template of call

Of  my inquiry  affirms  

We  view other  Stars now:

They  guide us, bear the

Brunt of  Humanity, God-sent.

Every  era has its Star.