Monthly Archives: February 2015

Free Flowing

a poem by

Walking down a winding mud path
A stone here and a stumble there
A virgin forest beckons me;
Beyond the meandering brook
Away from the city nooks
A people and their untouched forest
Beckons me;
Layers of trees, a rainbow of greens
A dash of butterfly wings
A forest deity, the people and their legends
All entice me;
The wilderness and the ‘Wild’ welcome me–
Unconditional and unreserved
Would my shiny world do the same, I wonder
My own thought mocking me, questioning me.
I trudge along the mud path;
Feeling like an intruder in a pristine world
I cannot give back what I receive, what I take…
Knowing also that I will never belong.
I halt at this thought.
Retrace my steps – back to my high rising world
Leaving with memories and a sense of loss
Loss of something I never had
Loss of something that never will be.
The virgin forest still beckons me
I make do with virtual view now;
Dreaming of another life
Where there would be no boundaries
No guilt of stealth, of intrusion
A life where I could flow like the meandering brook–
Unobstructed and free flowing!

Mournful squeak of the trees

a poem by

“Oh! my Mother Earth,
Can’t we take our breath?
Before fulfilling the greed,
Of the everlasting human need.

Our branches gone,
And offsprings unknown.
But, we are On,
For this sorrowful mourn.

In the form of wood,
Feel that they should,
Become so rude,
To turn us into Crude.”

Friends, let’s make a balance
Of both trees and humans.
It’s time to co-exist,
So, please don’t resist.

Trees across the bay,
Survive all the day,
In the dark, passes a light ray,
To which I say:

No trees; No peace…
Without peace, life to cease.
So, bend on your Knees
And protect the Trees.

Art of Wings

a poem by

Winged art moving
Time as a poetic glazier—
It’s a music delighting eyes,
A dance that floats, stunning
The silence of eternity;
Watching them climb
Higher and Higher, their
Celestial robes having the
Precision of a mobile art
Gallery— I am standing
On the earth, while you
Open the art of an experience;
You disappear from my vision-
Yet you have chosen a destiny–
A white flame merging as a song
Of love, your breath now,
An ethereal cosmic whisper.

The Inside War

a poem by

People go by all means,
No one stays in your life,
The only one to watch the screen
Not god; but you.
And your own strife.

God has many to look around,
You are no special,
Even if you have good deeds to surround.

‘To each is own‘ as people say,
One has their own world,
Living in a different way.

You sympathise,
You apologize,
You pray,
You prey,
You fight for a living,
But,
Here you forget
The art of giving.

The world is egotistical,
For it is self-centred,
It is by far twistical,
Like devil had mentored.

God’s hell is his love for humanity,
The devil-angel war,
Some consider insanity,
I say, as lightening strikes.
Here enters THOR.

You have to survive,
There is no way out,
‘Justice and injustice ‘
Shouting the souls out loud.

No one can be as good as they want to,
No one can be as bad as they need to,
Its just a puzzle,
Of your side by,
Dark or light,
Your behaviour decides;
Devil or angel,
Your actions recite.

For god is not munificent,
As he is just in his own way,
For him, we are merely toys,
Made with clay, for him to play.

Drop of Sea

a poem by

One day, a drop was lost from his
Old sea father’s finger
Drop replied him by message
Don’t try to search me anywhere
And worry about me or cry for me
First time I face the death but with
With my freedom
No matter where I live and how
And how strange peoples meet me
Under what circumstances?
Whether I may die in soil or burned by hot summer
And lost somewhere in air I don’t
But overheard by others, like people
I also unknown but never afraid of it
That is also, I do not know.
Or I maybe crying sad queen’s tear drop
In her palm or wiped out to hide me in
Pocket by others proudly
I may be helping to cry on death of relatives.
Or may be last drop of love affair to quench
Thirst one of them
Their ego of self existence never care me to
Preserve but somewhere in their memory
Must I come back even not valued much
I do not cry but for my little life but I
Could became drop of their last glorious
Golden rendezvous
I know they would also never try to search me
Because they very well know
I cannot be found like a moment
But I must be there somewhere in eyes
With no special sign to recognise me
Like their faces
Nobody there like to live faceless and common
Like me
I like to vanish for them because they are dying
Crazy to gulp me as true moment of life
How their world, eagerly waiting for me for many years
Then father, do you like to bind me close to you?
Don’t worry about me one day I will come back
Home certainly, but cannot say when?

India of 21st century

a poem by

This is India, Oh my friend,
And corruption is the current trend,
If you think the system can work,
Then I think you are a dork.
From lazy babu to lousy neta ,
And for icing on the cake there is arrogant mantri ka beta,

Some say the pen is stronger…
Nah! I don’t think any longer.
‘Tis said actions speak loudly,
But now money speaks more proudly!!!

Once Gandhi spoke in flesh & blood,
And to listen people came in a flood.
These days his face on currency notes,
Can buy you things like even votes.
Once that man called Gandhi,
Had walked miles up to Dandi,
But it’s neither Gandhi nor Dandi…
Kids now prefer to read Suppandi.

Famished children around food stalls,
Homeless people near shopping malls,
Villages around a megacity.
Drought along with hydroelectricity…
Wow!! That’s unity in diversity!

Weaving Waves

a poem by

Sun watches with a smile
Amused Diana too observes
Waves keep rolling to reach the shore

Divers plunge into depths unknown
Some for pearls, some for fish
Forlorn shingles strewn on sea bed
Indifferent wind, winds his way…

Endeavour endless, exhilarating…
Whether the shore welcomes or not
Breakers briskly roll, poetry too!

Listening to my heart

a poem by

Got so much to say, but don’t know where to start,
Suddenly I heard a sound, was it from my heart.
Baffled in my mind, wondering which way to go,
I grappled my thoughts.
And in quietness I looked inside my heart,
I saw an overcomer,
It seems so overwhelming,
Was it really me or someone I don’t want to be.
Trying to listen to my heart,
I realized I was lost away so far.
Trapped in the rules of this world,
I forgot living for thyself,
My heart was pleading and screaming these words to myself.
I listened to my heart,
And I know there are many things to be changed,
Life goes on and there is nobody to be blamed.
Yes! In the quietness of my mind,
I was listening to my heart,
A heart that was meant to be healed,
And I was trying to be me.
Rebuilding myself from foundations,
I am breaking free from my restraints.
Now, by listening to my heart,
Do you wonder where I might be?
I’ll tell you now, just this once
That finally I am free…

The Great “Uncommon man” – RK

a poem by

Now the common man will never be at the
Fingertip of this uncommon man…
But the impact of the sketch will
Ever leave a laughing thought,
In the minds of millions of humans…
He will always be missed
Though can never be replaced.
The man of lines, who mixed the straight
And the curved with innovative thoughts.
The sketch pen from which the “You Said It”
Were flowing out was never a sword to him,
But a true and a deep friend of him.
The affluent and satiric black and whites
Really depicted the mood of a nation.
Alas! The creator is no more…
And the common man is really orphaned…