Tag: shower

Categories
thoughts

The Rainy Evening: A Tercet.


The day heads off to a close
more or less the work is over
it is time to wind up and close.

For a while Ramu hovers
runs to catch the train
seeing the  sharp showers.

It is a heavy rain.
he is caught in the downpour
misses the train.

The rain lashes in a roar
Ramu is stranded
cannot run as before.

He stands
in the rain for a time
then walks in the marshy land.
The temple bell chimes
he enters the shrine
into the Hundial he inserts a dime.

The deity shines
resplendent in its gold kavasams
Ramu is on cloud nine.

 

 

Categories
earth Poetry rains

The Rains In All


The rains do good

they too also do bad

it is the way they rain

it is the way they deign

the earth is a receptacle

it also faces a debacle

that of a receiver in a sense

that of a deceiver in pretense

the showers  fall with ease

they drive one mad in a tease

it being a likelihood all the more

it being a dissimilarity sore

the rains enrich the soil

also delude it in a foil

a strange concept in strength

yet very realistic in length.

rains

Categories
thoughts

Going Without Rains.


Going without rains for the past month
the land got dry and parched
There was rain a few hours back
It was not copious but more than a drizzle.
The trees had a lively shower which made them look fresh
as the moth and dirt gathered got washed away.
The leaves looked greener and gleamed in the sunshine
which before were in disarray and dust laden.
The mild rains gave a great joy to one and all
While the people rejoiced the coolness it granted for a while
the birds cried in mirth seeing the slight rainsmild rains pouring intensely.
It was a break, a welcome break from the rigorous sun and oppressing humidity
which prevailed all throughout the month creating a want of not to live.

Categories
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The Loving Grand Pa


Early in the morning there was a sound.

It was not the cock a doodle do.

It was not the clock’s ding-dong.

It was not the baby’s shrill cry.

It was not the bird’s sweet call.

It was not the mother’s shout.

It was not the father’s retort.

It was not the boy’s grumbling.

It was not the paper boy’s cycle bell.

It was not the milkman’s  loud alarm.

It was not the whistling tea-pot.

It was not the hissing shower.

It was, it was, a snore.

Emanating from grand pa.