Month: April 2017

a butterfly
takes its wings in the sky
rainbow like.

The things around fascinate me.
They hold me in a glee.

The neem trees shed their leaves.
They look bare as though in a grief.

The twigs appear brown
snap and fall down.

The fall of its tiny flowers
is likened to a shower.

They create a carpet of pale green.
They lie without a sheen.

The tree drops its fruits in scores
emanating a pungency in a close.

The neem tree is God’s gift to man
effective in its stand.

A call from Nivedita
keeps me on toes.

She talks all subjects
politics, business with a force.

Goes on and on in a stretch
the interest of the listener grows.

She switches to ones of no importance
seems as though she has a poky nose.

Talks in length of her family
which echoes pride in a close.

She is an entertainer
on fewer occasions but, not always

Going in circles,
I do not move ahead.

Thinking in angles,
I stay where I am.

Working in dimensions,
I end up nowhere.

Speaking in a tangent
I gain nothing.

But, I do all these in a row
unable to fall in a line.

A pair of sparrows
chirping and singing
a romance is on the go
being seen and unseen
a sensitive and a sensual proposition
as seen in the garden.

The trend is so
siding the populist
remaining safe
unconcerned of
what would happen next.

The ways are so
walking through
the most traversed
security in the fore
nothing other than that.

The means being so
following the powerful
without any delineation
the end is the consideration
living being the only criteria.

I see the Himalayas,
lofty and majestic,
higher than any other mountains,
wish not to see any other.

I see the Meenakshi temple
grand and magnificent,
an embodiment of grace and divinity,
wish not to see any other.

I see the river Ganges,
flowing down the Himalayas,
could hold dirt yet purifies,
wish not to see any other.

I see Kerala,
called as God’s own country,
with its palm lined beaches and rivers,
wish not to see any other.

I see an Indian,
moderate in stature and wheatish in colour,
disciplined and gentle,
wish not to see any other.

I see all these around me,
I do not have to travel far and near,
being fortunate to be born as an Indian,
wish not to be born as any other.

A cat pines
the cry is poignant
being for its lost kitten.

It is heart-rending.
The motherly love overwhelms
She keeps vigil.

It is going on for days.
The cat is in anguish
being unable to find its little one.

The Omkara natha
rises from the abdomen
fills up the lungs
emanates from the mouth
the nostrils vibrate
the eyes lie in a tranquil
the ears reciprocate
the brain assimilates.
It is body’s response.

The atma mantra,
rather a chant
nay a diction
hold one spellbound.
It enlivens the environ
circulates, transposes
transports one to sublimity.
The mind relaxes.

It is a feel unexplainable
created by the intonation,
evolves into a furtherance
an advancement, an excitement,
a transcendental occurrence
revealing a unification
an amalgamation seamlessly.
The heart exalts.