Ode To The Book
When I close a book
I open life.
I hear
faltering cries
among harbours.
Copper ignots
slide down sand-pits
to Tocopilla.
Night time.
Among the islands
The Reminiscence (Pastoral)
The green village, the colored city, the ever familiar locality
Each path, tree, house, turn, each native I have left behind
But creepers, hedges have entangled with my leg and hand
The green crops fields, green hills, fruit trees, call me back,
Vast playground, lake of fishes, moonlit night call me back
Those eventful, remarkable, pleasing, sensible, filling pretty
Many years of birth, childhood, youth are going to be passed
But like usual happenings those scenes are always in mind;
The Secret
Two girls discover
the secret of life
in a sudden line of
poetry.
I who don't know the
secret wrote
the line. They
told me
All Trains Stop Here
All trains stop here and come to an abrupt halt
We call it cardiac arrest or near heart stop
No time at disposal for things to arrange
No grace period allowed for orderly manage
All must understand the essence of philosophy
Route to heavenly abode for collection of trophy
Paths is destined for sure and no choice or way
Body may remain motionless in ground to lay,
The Rainwalkers
An old man whose black face
shines golden-brown as wet pebbles
under the streetlamp, is walking two mongrel dogs of dis-
proportionate size, in the rain,
in the relaxed early-evening avenue.
The small sleek one wants to stop,
docile to the imploring soul of the trashbasket,
but the young tall curly one
wants to walk on; the glistening sidewalkentices him to arcane happenings.
Anyone, Someone
Is it possible?
There is anyone without someone?
Anyone can read
the palmistry of someone's sorrow
Hidden lines of fortune are deep
A lemon-green soul is pale
Leaves fall at midnight on highway.
Anyone can perceive
And The Seventh Dream Is The Dream Of Isis
1
white curtains of infinite fatigue
dominating the starborn heritage of the colonies of St Francis
white curtains of tortured destinies
inheriting the calamities of the plagues
of the desert encourage the waistlines of women to expand
and the eyes of men to enlarge like pocket-cameras
teach children to sin at the age of five
to cut out the eyes of their sisters with nail-scissors
Yet This Heart Moves On And On~
A wish, a desire it keeps
Flies on the wings of dreams
Neither long for any destination
nor strives for a resting place
Yet this heart moves on
And moves on…
It is restless and it dazzles in the mayhem
It passes through sunshine and shadow
A Jog-Trot Pair
Who were the twain that trod this track
So many times together
Hither and back,
In spells of certain and uncertain weather?
Commonplace in conduct they
Who wandered to and fro here
Day by day:
Two that few dwellers troubled themselves to know here.
Every Child Is No Einstein
Childhood, no more a time ‘tis to chill,
What a way, child's very child to kill!
It's time to draw a line,
Every child's no Einstein,
S@tire, but enough of truth there's still.
___________________________________
Happenings | 04.01.2020 |
Topic: humour, childhood, parents
Glimmer Of Spring At Daringbadi
Spring time is a great time of love
And this blooms when sun beautifies tender sky,
Spring allows us to sing and
Spring allows us to feel the beauty of nature.
Spring thanks us and you also thank us.
As per change of time everything changes.
Spring is king of all seasons and
Queen of billions of creatures,
Many poets have sung about spring.
Kind Sir: These Woods
Kind Sir: This is an old game
that we played when we were eight and ten.
Sometimes on The Island, in down Maine,
in late August, when the cold fog blew in
off the ocean, the forest between Dingley Dell
and grandfather's cottage grew white and strange.
It was as if every pine tree were a brown pole
we did not know; as if day had rearranged
into night and bats flew in sun. It was a trick
to turn around once and know you were lost;
What Does It Mean?
I had a vision or was it a dream…
In meditation I was completely immersed
I saw an image flying in a darkened sky
Its fiery wings spanned the universe
It was carrying someone, I think it was me
Wings of strength glided and soared
Gleaming feathered arms guided the trek
Stemming from a weightless scaled body
Was a sleek extended headless neck…
Hope For Heaven
Grey church sits lonely on the hill,
Awaiting its next Sunday thrill.
Voices rising up to the spire,
Kept in tune by the local choir.
Regulars that every week,
Enter the door the Lord to seek.
Its rural town’s a busy place,
Harbouring a mixed human race.
On the seventh day most sleep late,
Whose Sense Has Deceived Themselves Luck Can't Help
Whose sense has deceived themselves
Luck can't help,
It is and was fixed
For their wrong and misdeeds;
A glass of water was in the hand of a thirsty man
He saw a small straw in it
What could he do then?
Removing the spot drink it he could,
We All Are On Parole
For his fair conduct, goodly grade,
The killer was out on parole.
Easy, for justice to give dole,
The killed when can't come back from dead.
Divine laws might look rather crude,
But justice feels forced to look good!
Yet, with Heaven's liberal dole,
The Truth
If you look at something
From all points of view
You will know the truth
About the thing.
The Truth is the identity of things
The Truth is the actual happenings
Allah is the Truth!
Frustration!
I used to stroll along in the pedestrian way,
Most at night times for close of the day,
With an anticipation of being so relax and calm,
And also searching for something like balm.
Just an expectation I had,
Not the encountered experiences in life,
And I thought the men outside,
Were frolicsome and rollicking than the men inside.
Bedecking With Events
Bedecking with events
Whose shadow trails again in the mind-yard
The hopes planted by me rustle with a start
I, in two minds, gather courage to illumine
shivering body-lights in this dark temple ruin
Grass swishes, dry leaves fly in the wind
Soul peeps from eyes, nothing to be seen
Just a voice of some distant traveller says
(024) A Day From A Plant's Life
The sun is creeping above the hills
Giving an orangish tinge to the sky
The sky turns a beautiful shade of colors
As the early birds fly by
I reach up as far as I can
And stretch my green leaves
While my neighbor, the tailorbird
A comfy little nest weaves
I silently smile to myself
My flowers are in bloom