I Remain True

To read what I write

is but a terrible bite

as I write with a passion

nothing to do with fashion

pour my thoughts in speed

they are in verse  think I indeed!

what they are to others I know not?

as I write  for me alone all throughout

this way I go about in my work

performing for my satisfaction alone

a very  different personality in tone

stand I very much apart from the normal

withdrawn  from the world but very formal

Do I look a strange creäture to you?

Well, that is me who remains always true.


Actions Enrichment Poem


Beneath a large tree
there was a bumble bee
humming a song
as it roamed along
sucking the nectar
from a sector
of a shoe flower
at the end lower
the pollens stick
to its wings in a wink
while the bee flies away
the grains scatter in the way
causing a pollination
in a most unobtrusive fashion
enriching nature with a fecundity
enabling a carry over in all its entirety.

shoe flower

Lesson Life subscriptions thoughts Wish

On Becoming Sixty

 Is winning laurels  an achievement?

Yes, it is a rightful assumption,

Is becoming sixty years  an attainment?

No,it is a misconceived conception.


Celebrating the sixtieth birthday is a fashion,

Holding feasts and revelry  in honour of the day.

Attributing it to the stars and zodiac signs  is the reason

Spending hundred thousands in one single day.


Well ,that is each one’s wish is the defense,

Right ,is it not there a limit?

I stand out from the crowd which is an offence,

Yet,I will never admit.


 To me, aging is a natural process,

Everyone born undergoes,

 To me ,it does not bear any success,

It is only a natural recourse.


Oh! it was a big celebration people  acclaim,

Oh! there was a huge gathering,all proclaim

Oh! the food was delicious the crowd claims,

Oh! what a colossal waste, I exclaim!

Actions Beauty Nature Parade Penguin subscriptions thoughts

A Parade

It was a march anyhow,

Not an army trot anyhow,

Nor a fashion show anyhow,

Very much different somehow.


The eager wait  prolongs,

Honourable guests are not seen along,

Punctuality is tripped so long,

Confining the crowd not to drift along.


The eyes rove over,

Nothing glamorous appears all over,

Not able to view beauties from world over, 

It was patience made over.


Towards the right two jump across,

On the left a group of five cross,

In the middle little ones toss,

Depicting a lively display in  a gloss.



They have a coat of black,

A broad white  stripe in the pack,

Snorting with a peculiar quack,

They march ahead in a merry track.


The parade is not orderly,

The dainty gait looks lovely,

The non rhythmic steps are funny slightly,

Yet they captivate us  wholly.


The blue waters flow to the shore,

The orange Sun goes down into the floor,

Black lights up the sky in a quiet  score,

The little dark Penguins  gather in store.


Up they ascend in a hurry,

Hastening to see the babes in a flurry,

Peeping into their habitats with worry, 

They flock reverse in an undue hurry.


It is a parade with a difference anyhow,

It happens every  night almost anyhow,

It undergoes no rehearsals anyhow,

Yet it is a delightful Parade somehow