The Bud.

The tiny bud
looks like a stud
beautiful and good
closed and opened .

The closure is so tight
giving a lovely sight
allowing nothing to penetrate
not even air in a rate.

The opening is so subtle and small
perceiving through it is  a crawl
as it remains so budtight-lipped
not wanting to losses the grip.

The bud is tricoloured
white pink and red
run through it so rhapsodic
leading to a revel mystic.


Saturations And Repercussions.

Noticed a lovely little bud near by.
Saw a mighty ocean a little away.
Perceived a blossoming flower besides.
Met a unmatured girl a few yards away.
Getting assaulted on every other way
Her spirit dampened at the incongruity of the world.



The Bud Becomes A Flower.

Watching out into the garden
saw a tiny bus on a plant.
it looked so small and cute
a wee little and minute.

As everything grows
this little one opened out
and looked a little big
and strong not frail.

The opening could be seen
after careful inspection
The bud seemed to be in a dilemma
as to smile or not to smile.

leaving the bud to itself
fearing constant care could spoil
went about with my work
returning to find it has blossomed.

The bud has become a flower
spreading fragrance all over
with an astonishing beauty
arresting every one who passed by.

It is not anything wonderful
you might say
but for me it holds
a divine illumination.

The course of its growth
and the way it bloomed
deliver a bout of enlightenment
transcendentalimages (63) and one of contentment.


A Bud Flowers And Dies

I saw a small bud in the morning,

it was fresh and feeble,

it was so beautiful.


I walked out in the late morning,

It was still the same,

It was dainty and frail.


I peeped out in the afternoon,

It looked more or less the same,

Though slightly bigger than in the morn.


I made it again in the late afternoon,

It was there remarkable as ever,

It danced charming in the breeze.


I advanced towards it in the evening,

It had opened up elaborately,

Spreading its fragrance all over.


I rushed towards it the next morning,

Its petals looked withered,

It was drooping  in a fold.


I retreated with a heavy heart,

Capitulating the growth in a day,

Finally reconciling to death also in a day.

Beauty Diamonds thoughts Transitory

The Beauty of the Morn.-An Allegory

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.