Dialogue Poem…Reflection

frog: i love you.. when you gave me the comfort that i needed most


pond; just come and visit me, and i will welcome you in my arms


frog: i appreciate the lilies blooming on your hair


pond; no dear, they are not my hair, but the lily leaves


frog; oh! but they too look green as you


pond; i’m not really green, it is just the reflection of my surroundings 


frog: well, i guess i got the reflection of my surroundings too


pond; how can you say that? you are not a pond like me


frog; because i got your color…as green as me


pond; so now i know why you love me, so let me love you too


frog: i’m happy, would you please allow me to live with you?


pond; sure! and i will take you to live with me forever


(so the frog lives in the pond happily ever after)

 

in acrylic painting by suzette portes san jose

Image may contain: outdoor

Poets, who are they?

Poets are the humblest among the humble
Whose hearts overflow with passion and love.
They walk with noble strides,
Always loving, kind and so sure of themselves.
Explorer of humanity, beyond and below
The reigning civilization, they believe
In the inter-lacing of cultures,
The oneness of humanity and its inter-connectivity.

With extraordinary linguistic zeal,
In innumerable guises, they portray
The success and failure,pleasures and pains,
The emotions and tensions of man
Thereby producing oeuvres of great luminosity.

Visionaries par excellence, their impassioned
Writing with great horizons, characterized
By clear intelligence and humanistic integrity
Brings light where there is darkness,
Hope where there is despair
And love that exerts a far-reaching influence
With a wealth of ideas and artistic power.

Poets speaks out the voice of God,
They are the channels through which flow
Love unconditional, truth pure and compassion compassionate.
They are travelers of time and space
And their deep and layered poetry
Slipping like sand through the hour glass
Dawns comprehension in man’s mind
With the rhythmic dance of words
And a charismatic touch of spirituality.

pramila khadun

For a long lost friend

Yout heart nestling
Deep within, beneath
the deepest confines
Call it an artery
Or arota if you like
O that once beat
Skipping a beat or two
For my smile captivating
and now ! after ages have passed
as I reminisce, alone
-is all well with you
all these years
has it been nice to you
keeping you as stout, as hearty
-to greet me once again
With the same cheer
the same vigour
And at least ,to look upon me
with a kind smile
that comes from deep within
Your heart nestling
Yes,how have you been…

Memories.

Memories.

You will experience days where past lightning strikes.
Nights where dreams take you to your childhood.
Glimpse of days they looked many years ago.
Crying pain as when you lost your first love.
The pain that tells you where you come from.
It’s almost like a trip to the star you never reach.

Memories are the part of you that never forgets.
The memories are so much more than what you keep.
Memories are the tracks you leave the imprint of in someone else’s heart.

You will experience days when you feel the loss of yourself.
Nights where all that meant something creeps in.
Glimpse of the happiness you left behind when you walked away.
Crying pain in your failed ability never to find back right there.
The pain you brought with you is yours to keep.
It’s almost like the pain you gave away to someone else.

Obligations to life

The skies hold out their hands to me

Waiting for me to grasp their cue

So that, once elevated to their bliss

I shed off the murkiness of mundane life!

 

The skies, though, after cajoling me

Descend me back to Earth

As, it would seem, that I have duties

To carry out

And aims to achieve!

 

Pray, shouted I then to the skies

Leave me not here

Away from you, I do feel so abandoned

Away from you, I do feel out of place

Away from you, I do not feel like myself!

 

But the skies just smile down at me with kindness

It would seem that I would have to serve my sentence

Till the very end!

 

Pray, I shall keep hoping to have their guidance

And watchful eyes over me

As the world, if turned inside out

Can be a freaky scary place!

 

Yet, to my obligations to life

Do I stick to

As the carrying out of these

Shall allow me to ascend up there

Someday, somehow!

Void

of the sweetest voice
that fret me around
after a painful respite
it ferry me across
towards hinterland
unspoken, untreaded
friendliness of a bizarre kind
where from
I prove my existence
without any form
untouchable to a reasonable man
and
part my earthy space
with a shirk
Sans space, sans time
to bellow my whereabout
void, my eternal void

shuffling footsteps

Every night when the moon creeps near my window
I hear slow, shuffling, footsteps stopping at the door.
As though someone is walking in carpet –slippers
Gigantic.
Maybe down- at –heel too.
The night seems to be lost in labyrinthine lies.
Terribly tangled in some long-forgotten ties.
Hush, is it the sound of hooves?
The jangle of harness chains?
Time galloping away?
Trot, trot, trot, it goes at a canter.
Perhaps stopping near the woods for some light-hearted banter.
Shoves its knuckle into its mouth, throttles a sigh.
The woods whisper, the leaves rustle.
Time races on, long of bone, and hard of muscle.
A short, stumpy tree writhes, its thick, short arms
making wild gestures of indignation, at time’s fast pace.
With disdainful bravado, it raps a sharp tattoo
On its receding back.
“Stop, stop”, it yells.
But Time, races forward pell –mell
I open my eyes to Times’s fast pace.
Relieved that I have not lost the race.
Yet.

Endlessness …

time untold … from nowhere
…………………………to forever

time molded … from nothingness
…………………………..to endlessness

the world keeps turning … from places
………………………………………to phases

the world keeps changing … from its past
……………………………………….to its last

life belongs … from tell tales
……………………… to fair wails

life concealed … from weariness
…………………………… to breathlessness

heart goes beating… from perpetuity
…………………………………..to immortality

heart crave to persist … from ceaselessness
……………………………………….to infiniteness

soul hopes remain… from incessantly
………………………………….to eternally

 

in painting by suzette portes san jose

Image may contain: plant, tree, outdoor and nature

The Seed

The woeful seed
Buried with care
Liberally nourished with manure
Waiting to dare.

Days passed into weeks
Weeks into years
Despite the earnest breed
Unable to sprout, it shed tears.

Year after year
It longed to sprout
Even as the planter did not fear
Believing, saying no to doubt.

In the fourth year
The sapling sprouted
The planter was in cheers
Assured of its clout.

All the potential was stored inside
Quietly braving its winter slice
O heavens! the planter cried
It grew into a mighty tree, never a vice!

Copyright Aabha Vatsa