Categories
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.

Categories
Care Creation

Attempt To Renovate.


Rare paintings in age-old temples,

Reveal volumes of history,

Depict  scenes of the past,

In colourful artistic splendour.

 

These monumental sketches,

By artists of yore,

Are rare treasures passed on,

From generations to generations.

 

They tell us about events,

Teach us  the customs,

Discipline our lifestyle,

By illustrations of traditions.

 

Restoration  unmindful destroys,

 Kill  the beauty forever,

As the significant exhibits die,

In the hands of ignorance.

 

Renovations  have to restructure

 To garnish the lost glamour,

 By reinventing the charm,

In conservative constructions.

 

 

The present day efforts,

Put forth a suicidal trend,

Wiping off extensively ,

The delicacies of the past.

 

A painting is a creation,

Of the mind and soul,

It is a  profound release,

Of thought and imagination.

 

 

True art has no replicas,

 As they are spontaneous,

Born only once,

Never to be created again.

 

Such being the state,

An extreme care is the need,

 Bidding a requisition  for a challenge,

Most similar to a virtuous patience

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Categories
reverberation subscriptions thoughts

I Have Been to London


Pussy cat, Pussy cat,Where have you been?

Oh! Where did the Pussy cat go? .

To London to see the queen,

 Well,what does this show?

 

 

Everyone wants to see  London,

 As once  it ruled the world,

Now  its supremacy is undone,.

When its colonisation spree got curled.

 

 

Its history goes back to the millennium

Founded by the Romans as Londinium,

Traced  its roots to celtic  medium,

Research enforces a period beyond compendium.

 

 

  

Hailed as the largest global city,

Home to the headquarters of 100 of major financial companies,

Housing  Cambridge,Oxford and other great universities

Inhabited by all races who live in cohabited  ease.

 

 

Monarchy still commands respect,

Queen and Prince still exist,

Palaces and churches are attractive prospects,

Their grandeur is hard to resist.

 

 

William Shakespeare lies in Stratford-on-Avon,

A mortal whose fecundity  was his originality,

Who discerned  lively portrayals of the royal and common,

Decking  them with wordy jewels inciting an inebriety.

 

 

 William Wordsworth  called nature his guide,

While Scott  in his novels  unravelled history,

Tennyson’s lyrics exalted in romantic pride,

Russell was an authority in analytic philosophy.

 

 

Sun never sets in the British Empire ,nearly a century ago,

Trading with countries in the east ,slowly became ruling,

Spices  gradually turned to proprietary impregnated with ego.

Traders assumed the role of governors  at perfect timings.

 

 

London swells  in pride and wealth over the centuries,

Treasures from the  Indian sub continent enriched the bourses,

Regaling in its prosperity the city   became a reverie.

Pushing back all the other competent forces.

 

 

It is everyman’s wish to see  the city,

As it holds an  exclusive attraction,

Both historically and commercially appears pretty,

Proposing  an expensive and lively distraction .


Categories
thoughts

A Virtuoso Performance.


There was an exuberance all over,

The  listeners  were  speechless,

The rendition kept us motionless,

We  remained awe-struck.

  

  

The concert kept us spell-bound,

The spectators were in a trance,

 As there was no movement by chance,

 The performance was range bound,

We   stayed exhilarated

 

The imagination was  an exaltation

There was an enraptured silence,

AS the feelings were free from tense,

The melody was  a  rhapsodic culmination.

We sat mesmerised.