Category Archives: Transitory

The Cycle Of Life.

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The transitoriness bewilders
happen to see a procession
one of a wedding on the north
another of a death on the south
the one so happy and merry
the other sad and sullen
distracted I stand with eyes hovering
what to make out of the incidents?
birth and death happen day in and day out
rejoice and pain occur one after another
the way life revolves with fun and frolic
the way it rotates with melancholy and sadness
nothing is there for years together
nothing is constant all along
I stand there with an understanding
the old has to give way to the young
the dry leaves fall as new ones shoot
this be the course of the life cycle
the dead and the fresh alternate
they could be the punctuations
a pause, a forward, a straight walk
all seen in the experience it unfolds.

No One Knows.

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mysticalIt was a walk, a steady walk.
It was a talk, a steady talk.
It was an act, a steady act.
Lo! it was all in all a steady fall.

It was a style, inimitable.
It was a grace, unimaginable.
It was a demeanour, nonchalant.
Lo! it was all in all a systematic fall.

It was a move, instant.
It was a rise, immediate.
It was a leap, unforeseen.
Lo! it was all in all a steep fall.

Whatever it was in stature.
Howsoever it was a feature.
Whosoever it might be.
Alas! it was all in all a crazy fall.

Every thing was in order, to the dot.
Everything was arranged in the slot.
Everything looked grand and great.
Alas! it was all in all a tumbling fall.

Something mystical runs through.
Sometimes it appears to be true.
Rest of the period it is a mirage.
Oh! it is all in all a predicted fall.

Introspections Strange.

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parrotWhat is it high up on the tree?
It is shiny green dancing in a spree.
Is it a fruit hanging down?
Is it a bird looking down?
If it is a fruit it must be a peach
high beyond the reach.
It could also be a mango.
oscillating in a tango.
If it be a bird it must be a parrot
likely to read the destiny like a tarot.
It glitters in the sunlight like a beautiful emerald
the thick green signifies a glorious herald.
It shows a pale green standing for unripe interventions
symbolically leading to many untold intimidation.
Curiously looking it is both fruit and bird.
The bird pecks on the fruit while perched on a woody gird.
Tiny bits fall down from the tree in intervals.
The fruit opens out its flesh in an unravel.
The parrot sucks the lascivious flesh in a stroke.
The seed falls down miserably in a coatless broke.
Oh! there is nothing brilliant high up on the tree.

Mango And Guava

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mango treeguavasThe mango tree is fluttering  cheerfully in the garden.

The guava tree stands  solemnly grim with a heavy burden.

A whiff of air blows all of a sudden.

The treesdangle vigorously  with fruits heavily laden.

The fall of little mangoes  makes the heart sadden.

The ripe yellow guavas come down in dozens.

The mango and guava  are  a subtle reference

to the world’s impermanence.

 

 

Impermanence.

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Mortals think they are immortal.

Rich feel they are  absolutely insulated.

Powerful assume they are invincible.

Wise observe everyone with zeal.

Thus goes the world  round and round

unaware of its impermanence.

Transitory it is

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The little one had a muffin,

Eating it bit by bit,

She enjoyed every bit,

She ate it little by little,

The taste added to her cheer,

She then took a hard bite,

A big piece got stuck,

She got choked ,

Her face turned pale,

Her eyes welled with tears,

The joy turned out dreary,

Oh! what a transformation,

All in a second.

 

 

 

The Beauty of the Morn.-An Allegory

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Tiny dew drops shine like diamonds ,

They oscillate over the fragile green grass,

Shimmering in the glistening sunrise,

A beauty not to miss every morn.

 

Little buds peep out from the nodules,

They are in red, rose and blue,

Dancing in the morning breeze,

A beauty not to  miss  every morn.

 

Small children walk up the road to school,

They chuckle and chatter as they move,

Exchanging friendly gestures and pep talk,

A beauty not to miss every morn.

 

The glory of the day lies not  in calls,

The charm of the hour is not based on tries,

The contentment rests on impressive sights,

That take us to infinite heights.

 

The beauty of the morn is not to be missed,

It has to be repeatedly cherished,

The dew drops, bud and child are personifications,

Of transcendental truth and  exuberant bliss.