Love's strong strings attire ( guardian)

No more tears, no more sigh,

to this blessed garden of aroma

I come with a  smile springing

in my eyes, helium of  flow

consoling me, my love, my safe barn

opening up new vistas;

Looking above spider’s web,

Perpetuation of its progeny and love

Hope in the coils surviving far ahead;

It is more than a  paradise, A Bliss

And  beautitude.

Let some winter’s cool garb

cover me, let not any frost         

 corrode me into  empty cascade

 of  shyness  and  nothingness.

Let love grow into multitudes

and fountains of faith  nourish

till I retire to   a  firm foothold

of  solidity of ditty’s  moods.

There comes a  Diana, her chaste

Looks dipped in cup of Truth

Guiding me firm and soft.  

Catch of the day ( Guardian)

Catch of the day (  Guardian)

No car, no van, outside the therapist,

In the sense, I have not come by  car;

but distinct far away, there are many

in queue,  a web of real and unreal show

for   those who interpret that way.

Life  is complex, but what I am holding

is much more complex, don’t know how

to define and show; transparency is there,

along with slippery line. I ponder,

life cannot be sieved like a fish or whale,

or   imitated like  cockerel with hope of

morrow in the Dawn; Just as the concept of

Life  itself is ambiguous or mysterious,

This slippery thing is solidity by itself,

 no mean object of creation; also a part

of the Universe, now it is slipping  away.

ply into the void.

  ply into the void

Gone are those Golden chariot ed days,

When seasons failed not, when Sky

merged with The Blue and pots did not

often come to the streets aligned

 with morbid  drought piercing hot.

Giant lorries laden with cans,

 brittle  plastic bottles tied up

to a  knot circling  boxes;

Speed past the jammed crowd,

VIPs  throbbing with   angst of thirst;

Thirst for seats in colleges, clerical

Posts in offices, secure seats in podium,

A card game before them, dipping life

Into  a  chance of luck, catch and throw.

Automated signal is the same for  all.

Summer’s  heat with a  nudge,

driving people  crazy with a force

of opening refrigerator, duel lordship;

ruling monster and luxurious slave

 in every household  with cubes of ice.

Still  a  Victorious pot in corner

Jeer at the machines, when power fails!

  

                                        

That was , IS , the age ( Different approach)

After   Guardian,)  Suppose  

That was , IS ,  the age  ( Different approach)

MY DOLL, MY PLAY TIME,MY LIFE;

Dressing it, carrying it in my arms

Wherever I go, combing its hair,

Feeding it with a  spoon, that is,

That was my life breath, my commitment

Infusing my life into it. Suppose, doll,

Molly I call it, should break her dead,

I would rush to the doctor for the first aid.

I am dressed neat and trite, suppose

 sun recedes and sudden cloudy showers,

my  cute doll getting drenched,  I feel not panicky,

pull out my umbrella and protect both of us,

rush to the nearby shady tee or park

to stay a while, consoling my Molly

and wait till clouds clears.

 I am in serious, thinking mood, suppose,

My mind  propels me for higher pursuits ,

I tend to put my doll for sleep,

Ask my granny to pray for  a while,

 Both for me  and my cute Molly

Until I return from my errands

Thanking heaven for all bliss.

 I sit  and Pray and Pray

The world continues to prick

and prick and prick, I am pretty sure

it is the way of the  world, I go by the

dictum, do what your dictates tell you,

leaving the rest to the Will of The Almighty.        

Heaven is the ultimate watcher.

AFTER Near Helikon by Trumbull Stickney ( Guardian) A query of introspection

AFTER    Near Helikon by Trumbull Stickney  ( Guardian)

  A query of introspection

Whither is the mood?  Whither my favorite

Mountain song and  ranges, where memory

hangs still a canopy unalloyed and steadfast;

At the end of cool summer’s day, when  at times

Pockets go dry  and wry, Muse at your beck and call

Sits by the shore and sings along a lonely way,

 Hymns and odes  sky and  wheeling surf

Roll ever  the sands and moon shines. My troubled

Life  hums again on the mosaic of the past

Where opulence and glory pouring in.

Like many thoughtless and more on spending spree,

me too; failed to catch the Riches by forelock;

still ringing the parrots and peacocks dance

on the tall woody branches; dilapidated house,

where ghosts supposedly haunt still, the lone girl

shuts the window opposite the grilled house.  

After Breath ( Guardia

  After  Breath (  Guardian)

What is death?  Sudden

cessation of breath

or stopping of palpitation,

or pulse coming down

lulling all consciousness;

unanswered question, pain

accompanying our beginning

of existence into this life;

misery of mysterious age’s

advent into the fabric of our selves.

Yet, the parties and functions

 Celebrate our moods and moorings

like the balloons going up, hovering

in air, until blown by sudden wiffs .

yonder, husband and wife delight

“in the quietness” of children’s sleep,

Their future,  vagaries  of life

 and perilous paths and voyages

veering round unknown blizzards.          

In their togetherness, there is  silent

Exchange of breath and love.

After Guardian's "porch light"

  After  Guardian’s     porch light

It is a two way  house of ancient

Ceiling and pillars supporting the

Pyal and halls where children after

A dip into the steam, come round

and round the same with a  merry

song in tune with the parrots on

tree tops repeating  the calls. Cocks

and hen and geese guffawing.

Mills grinding flour and chilies,

with a deafening sound far off,         

a girl peeps out of portico with

a handbook of sums of homework,

enjoying life’s handwork, ducks

in ponds dripping  with a  message,

be cool ever with  a farsighted vision.

Porch light, glimmering through

For  a dawn of cheers and serendipity.

                                                                                                                          

IN MAKING A GARLIC GINGER PASTE FOR ANCHORITE

IN  MAKING A GARLIC GINGER PASTE  FOR ANCHORITE         

He is  an old-timer,  man of gardening

Herbs and herbal therapy in his wallet

Green leaves and  Tulsi paste  in vial,

Proportionate seasoning with mint,

His cough ,his congested chest,

Would  crave for relief soon,

Self medication is his forte;

Dying anchorite  would scribble ,

Scribble  till his muse goes for rest.

His ginger garlic paste  brings him

Back to this normal world, his dying  

Soul would seek redemption every minute.

He screams “ I am  alive with redoubled

Vigor and fate  cannot harm me”

In search of a theme.

In search of   a  theme

                                                

Other side of closed wall,

still your moorings  are

inside; like  Ping-Pong ball;

pushing to   realm of  fear-ridden

 fish  weltering in a  tub,

water receding out slowly,

aridity? call it uncertainty?

Like musketeers with ration card

In front of food suppliers, their

morrow bleak,  hungered children ,

wait for  dad’s return with three

bags full of stuff and suffice in both

their looks  cropped up sudden.

Struggle for survival : mapping the road?

Server down, making many waiting

in endless queue, your  train or flight

will not wait for you, on line transaction

for medical bill, taking patient where?

big bazaars billing counters  go awry,

sweat and dust falling in dusk,

call it pitfall in technology?

  me drawing   circle,

Stuffing many a  theme .

In the morn and eventide (AFTER GUARDIAN)

In  the morn and eventide

When roses and jasmine serenade

In my garden of ages beyond my ken,

Why? even my grandsons still count

 The ages of  The arch and walls built

by ancestors will and meticulous  design;

                                                  

sitting on the mound she plucks a rose

throws in the meadow by  a deft throw!

Crows caw in a repeat of warning:

 Beware every moment.  It is a world

of uncertainty, fear coiling everywhere;

when cows led by the boys,

when urchins play with kites

by the  river pond, when young lass

carry water in the pot, gurgling by,                 

when grand sire's stick falls down

in the river, yonder temple bells chime,

crows in search of roost, repeat cawing,

sounding a  note of warning,

It is a world of uncertainty,

fear coiling everywhere;

in wintry bed  still, they coil

beneath a  rug of worn out;

frosty wind blow  through the air

curtains hang signaling  moon shine,

milk boiler  getting heated

many a time by the caring housif,

whistle blowing  a  warm merry note

giving a wake up call, wake up call.

                                          

                  

supplication ( Guardian

Supplication ( Guardian)

Oh! Lord, oh! God,

I am in this city of poly cultures,

Demi -gods, saints, atheists,

Prayer halls and religious lectures,

I believe in You, move with the

Believing non -believers ; chat

With pecking birds and blooming

Rose buds and green savannas where

There is   God’s plenty like full throated

flow of chirping and Vedas;            

 But of late, there is calumny and chaos

and killer instinct and  razing competition;

descend to mend and bend those unbending;       

You are tired of telling where they have gone

Wrong, for wronging is in their blood,

Such adamant creatures; Oh! God descend

Now to quell their arrogance twined with

Stupidity, a determined will to thwart ancient  

beliefs and dictums. Now is the time to guard,

 to reckon my fealty  to You forever.

                                                      

s

Poem after (Hay Jude)

Poem   after  (Hay Jude)

Hay   Man!  When you sing  a song,

let it be so loud that  it is curious

mixture of  extreme  joy  to invite

all merry youngsters to join and revel;

let the song be also  tempered in mood

of justified  anger and frustration that angels

descend to appease you in  diction

of clairvoyance and protection.

This is  a colorful world replete

With resplendence and Nature’s

Beauty  and Bounty  in all its  forms;

Even the ocean gyrating in great

Colors including the surf and swathes ;

Why only black and white?

Oh! Man , think of your childhood days,

 With cola and kite ever playing on the streets,

Getting  a warm scolding from your mom,

For the sunburnt face and  home work not done.

Now  you are grown, wearing a sun glass,

 Venturing into many new feats and success.

Sing along ,sign aloud a  merry song,

Also a prayer to The Almighty,

Beseeching His Guidance and   Divine Succor.

    

FTER GUARDIAN ( AROUND THE IVY LEAVES)

AFTER GUARDIAN (  AROUND THE IVY LEAVES)

AT times browsing  HIS book on Milton,

Taking  a  gentle stroll on the green savanna,

A soft mellifluous note by flute springing

From  afar,sparrows twitter by ivy’s opulence;

his looks at a  child  in frilled skirt, dancing

round  with blooming crackers all over;

 Also  a girl with a water can in teens,

Gurgling on her sari, her humming  a romantic tune

From the firmaments blessings of showers, a glow

All around. Speedy gale shedding all leaves of ivy,

His  mind’s eye forewarn, not to  cross his boundaries:

Greatness lies in admiring from afar, not getting

Polluted by momentary lapse into skin’s itch;

He ponders if an ode to the innocence of the child,

If a lyric to the pleasing ears of the serenading girl

Would  suffice the need of the hour; his dictates

Tell him, as long as he abides by qualms

of conscience and morality,  a smooth nod

 his guiding star.

Joker or poker -a show (guardian)

Joker or poker -a show (guardian)

All play and buffoonery and jokes

healthy wealthy, best for blood

circulation and tendons growth.

Audience prefers most of the time.

But we go to the hall for  a theme

A story, a move of  uncontrollable

emotion, Not for tears swelling down.

Let music glow and thrall, keep

Us spell bound. Let the clowns

Come and go at intervals;

Let us all leave the hall with

Balanced mood of satisfaction.

                                                  

A Card with worth what?

A Card  with worth  what?

 

IT is a   card, not  a board,

Square  card,portable,

Pocket able, light yet,

Full of weight in times

Of need, more  for luxury.

Gone are those days of

Jingling coins and  fresh notes

Of currency emitting full aura

As if from the Mint,in bundles

and banded with a   knot.

A card with a  pin but not

Dateless; like  humans, this

 Electronic Wizard  too has

Expiry date, entry point and

Exit at your own willed accord.

Forgot pin at the store point,

Shops and  malls and mega marts;

A quandary for me and family;

Those in queue an added tension,

Time is running out for all in this.

                   

Machine age with server down;

Manual rescue to redeem our risk

always a  boon and delectable pleasure.

                   

poker ( after guardian

Poker AFTER (GUARDIAN)

Where are the  vessels? Where is the radio?              

Where is the poker? The maid in usual tone

Raises her voice against the mystery of missing

Objects. What a cunning world we live in? she

Screams ; always scheming and plundering is the

way of the world.  Pepper  and  salt always nil

in the bottles, easily transported to a paper or portable

plastic container. Oh! Maintaining the house is

onerous task indeed, she mumbles clearing all

grains split on the floor by mishap of rattling

from the cupboard.  Oil smeared on gas oven,

will take months together to wipe and clean

the soot . Her lady was away for a week,

maid became slowly slackened and  other

subordinates became culprits in outlook

and action.  Maid shudders and shivers in

shoes; thinking how best to answer her head.

 The cupboards and slabs all hungry now

Adding to her hunger and anger.