happily India Poetry

Come To My Land.

Come to my  land

go with a band

fold the hands

take  an elegant stand

look not bland

show up grand

create your brand

live happily amidst all  Indian lady

that be your life in all

as you slowly diffuse into sand.


The Context.

the help does come 

not from known

 always from the unknown

 a phenomenon often felt

 the hand that turns away 

 is one of the nearest relation

 the fingers that lead you 

 are that of the strangers

 awaken to the truth 

 go ahead with hope 

 someone would come 

 to help you out .




The Hands Tell A Tale

I cradled you
in my hands full
put you to sleep.

You crossed the road
under my eyes
secure and fast.

You learnt to write
letters in small and big
getting the cue from me.

You grew up
perfect and smart
wanting to reach great heights.

The tale of the hands
told by a mother
past, present and future.

mother and son


An ode To Hands.

I see my hands
they look grand

lovely and fine

 expressing a sign

The hands  write
they do also fight
extending them out
would  help many without doubt.

The hands work incessantly
lifting and holding reliably
giving a hand  is helping
giving a big hand is clapping .

That goes with the hand in good sense
there being notoriety hence
that of accepting bribe
being no mean jibe
The hand that rocks
does things in a shock
that of corruption  in the go
tending to be fluent in the flow.

The hands that fold and pray
incline toward a slay
taking the sword in anger
or causing an ignominious  trigger .

They being indispensable in all ways
has to be treated with reverence all days hands
the good being greater in the run
let we forget the bad they commit  as fun


Hands Tell A Tale..

In my hands  my little son  found solace

rocking and singing he became calm

that be the beginning of my hands association .


Holding my hands my son got across

with a feeling secure he went about

that be the preliminary take of my hands.


Holding his hands I taught him to write

write did he with figures small and big

that was the secondary level  of the hands of mine.



The hands that moulded him to the perfection

the way he grew up under its protection

that be the third degree connection of my hands.


The time has come for him to move

taking the hands of mine he goes forward

a final  position of my hands with him.


Seeing my hands now I find

they be worn out with wrinkles around

shaky they are fit to end up the  strive.


Well, they were the same hands long back

robust and strong full of life

soft and tender  as a petal.


The hands have told you a story

that of being the tale of every mother

those born before, living now  and going to be images (74) born .









With That Goes My World.

The morning looks dull

with people not seen about

nothing happens in full

as there is none going out.


What be the cause I wonder

I could infer nothing so far

as I think about in a ponder

I trace nothing great ajar.


It might be a holiday, I conclude

holidays are spent  not at home I know

as people go over with a schedule

visiting places with glee in a row.


What else would it be? I think aloud

while my son  sits facing me with a tease

What is your botheration now? he talks loud

Keep going not thinking of things in pieces.


Telling him of my deliberation  straight

he unable to control his laughter

holds my hand and says with words right

you have other things to care about  now and after.


Still my mind persists on its thought

wanting to know why the day is  lifeless

my son reaches me with a plot

taking me into the city for a drive   neverdull mroningtheless









An Applaud For Hands

Prodding over the uses of hand

I was taken aback in a stand

myriads be the uses like a wand

with eating  starts the work

follows the writing in task

adding to the embracing

when in extreme love

also to prayinga usage of  beating

when in  unbeatable anger

with an indicative pointer

going on to pinpoint aberration

goes the much used hand

for whatever  deployment

be it cleaning  or mopping

be it to applaud  or deplore

so many be the potential play

that the hand does in all

that without  them

man would have to go

helpless and defective.

handicapped and challenged

doing nothing innovative

for that matter anything proper.









Actions Anger authority Enrichment Environment Evolution Interpretation kill Perfidy Poem Poet Sly sneer Theory thoughts threat. turmoil

The Three Dimensions.

Round and round goes the clock.

It is a rotation of its little hands.

Round and round goes the earth.

It is a revolution on its own axis.


Round and round goes the Man.

It is a movement to circulate physically.

Round  and round he craves in.

It is a motion to spread slander.


The clock shows time in precision.

Enacting day and night in decision.

The earth extends to life  a bounty

Enlivening  men and animals  to a dainty.


Man breeds enmity  in a concealed security.

He nurtures vengeance in a confided intimacy.

Killing one another is his  discreet strategy.

Annihilating the existence in totality.