Life isn’t utterly
tasteless even if
one’s share of joys
is very limited;
There’re lessons to learn
from good many ills
one may fall
a prey to.
A much fertile
soil is life,
unrivaled in calm
and patient strength;
of a handsome reward.
Love, your soft tunes
Burn my ashes of desire
When morning breaks
With endless glory;
Living words are
Of psychic pleasure;
And yours, a real treasure!
My ailing spirit yearns
For none other;
Only speeds to gather
The record prime goal.
Our heart needs
No new enjoyable stuff
As this world gives but peace-
The solace of peace!
With what holy stuff, O Lord
Wilt thou load my hollow heart?
With what labour?
When I needed thee most,
I cried and prayed
And thou hast answered me.
With what hallowed stuff, O Lord
Wilt thou fill me hollow will?
With what hope?
All those promises made
In solemn piety, I no longer
Seem to know or remember.
Thou hast guided and bestowed
Thy blessings upon my soul,
While I walk in perilous ways;
Thy splendour shone
My blindness gone, and all is
Brightness as I see it now.
Read a Haiku
and help release
your heart’s tension;
perhaps by luck you find
some of there-expressed joy
is yours too.
You may very well draw on it
to your heart’s content.
Further if you want to,
you can make your seconds flow
Like a slow unhurried rivulet
reciting the Haiku lines:
O relax, you relax.
Look, how serenely
refreshing! You feel so happy,
sound of mind.
O listen, listen more and more
to the deep solemn notes of nature
sung for you:
sweet cadence of youth
and unalloyed mirth
then return to you.
Death in myriad forms embrace
The vast number of our race;
Disasters devour us as daily bread,
We, hapless humans, surrender;
When nature’s blows unexpected strike,
No death-defying tactics succeed;
Scenes after scenes, melting into tragedy,
Are woven strands of ill-omen;
Is it the dance of death? A play on the face
Of earth? On the stage of abysmal hell?
How Fateful! Man dies as flies fall,
Ephemeral beats of heart cease;
Now, what end bootless griefs signify?
What man do deaths dignify?
She was my dear little sister
Who passed away young
Nay, just nipped in the bud
By violent intervention…
Not mere tragedy it was
But an unjust severance
Of life from tender limbs
With time’s sharpened blade;
Sweet flower of innocence
Culled from a fair garden
Before she ever knew
What life meant at all;
Bliss to depart in childhood!
Go wide awake to paradise
Never knowing wickedness,
Named a star in the heavens;
Her demise was a shock!
Once smiles shined on my face
Like gradient sunlight filtering
through clouds before rain;
Always close to my heart
She meant never to part;
Pulled between two worlds I live
bearing the burden of grief.
Scent of butterflies
spread in the air,
purified perfume ethereal;
gathering of airy beings,
rich in seminal
ideas of regeneration:
and cosmic symphony!
The words fell like thunder
strong, firm and resonant:
the prophet spoke
into people’s heart
His figure was most benign,
radiant and true, eloquent
to one in distress
of doubt; his heart hallowed
It wasn’t he but God Himself
spoke, though him; blew
the sacred breath
of Law into his very being,
once and forever.
Let our sound technologies grow
and factories and plants flourish;
in greenhouse chambers
we hope to live
watching our favourite satellite channel;
we have to have our privacy.
We sow only landmines yearly in our barren
fields, expecting a good harvest:
we must defend ourselves at all costs.
Neighbours aren’t friendly: jumping the barbed
wires, they’ve crossed the borders;
naturally they die too innocently.
Markets are blooming though families
fare worse; that’s the present trend.
Our flags and banners fly
among viable currencies;
the stock exchanges are busy daily;
yellow pages highlight the business increase.
The milk of life spilt over
a human round table conference;
fortunately its report is read in seminars.
We’ve also documented its fall
in graphic detail in various magazines; but,
what says an age-old proverb?
Why can’t we make efforts to collect
a few samples, and keep them in our museums?
Finally if our systems can’t succeed,
we clone ‘another likeness’
of this pass-free heaven on earth;
of course, preserve it in lovely form!
O! You divine, dawn of knowledge,
become my dream, comely vision:
a stream of joy
When, bereft of reason, lost in ignorance,
your help sufficed to find my path:
a lease of life
Supreme symbol of thought, of morals,
essence, immanent presence,
absorb me into your ocean of bliss
You’re everlasting king, lord of universe,
where man dwells in habitual peace
of sustaining grace
Ultimate, imperishable cause, my Lord,
let me be awake to beauty,
an imperial cosmic consciousness
Comely divine babe, the celestial prince,
with charming peacock feather on hair,
silent, smile you in innocence.
Language is the body
of inner thoughts, feelings
that remain invisible as spirit in my being,
wherein you discover
the strain of life, pungent pains
and a whole gamut of human emotions;
It smells of earth,
the soil of my nativity, of my
land and its people, the rustics. They’ve
become a part of higher Nature and Land; their
lives like legends, rites or habits have made
deep delicate imprints on my speech;
Struggles and trials,
heroic strength withstood;
wars and battles fought, as in the days of yore,
to defend a faith or defeat a foe
or even at times for women’s sake:
my language like history records them all;
A harvest in the prime
of season, challenging happy fields
of corn, cut and bundled up to thresh
when in my neighbourhoods, festivities start:
dancers rounded in pairs
the sacred spirits of corn invoke;
A song of love for joy,
melodious voice thus surpassing
fields now empty, after the gathering of grains:
tunes played on the strings of heart
flow in the vibrant rich language of soul,
O! Overlapping musical waves!
My poor clownish brain was withering
notwithstanding genuine efforts
Genuine, I said…
Though they lately discovered
a silver lining
on every clouded reason,
I thought I would never know it.
All is earth-bound, joy or sorrow;
I’ve little interest in what they proclaim,
or what they call glamour;
So I left their company, lost in my world.
Then, I found a fountain of joy,
a life-line of freedom, light and love,
reward of my close association
with Nature, my friend.
Now the stars above my green fields shine,
drawing on inspiration from the sprout
of season, those tender buds,
bent on being and becoming.