Pleasure
Freud and Lacan were right
Their theories bright
Pleasure-principle
And
The theory of ‘lack’
Neither a man nor a woman
Feels self-sufficient
And
Search for pleasure, constant
Some desire the hour-glass figure
And some
Voluptuous, trigger
Pleasure-principle operates:
Sans any other way
Of fulfillment
Eying the swaying bums
And peeping boobs
Of women
Give a high
In the otherwise drab rut
Mental images later
Work like Viagra.
© Copyright Sangeeta Sharma
The shrill cry of the newborn
Infuses new life
Within the bogged down young mom
Wearied and shattered
Swollen and bruised
Past suffering the long hours of labor
Like a dream come true
The most-awaited bawl
Dissipates all weariness
Makes her feel triumphant
Overwhelmed and
Full of wonderment
With the strange power of Nature
And
At her own capacity.
In the manifestation of a tot
The bundle of joy
Is a bounty from God
A boon.
She feels sanctified
Bringing a new life
Into the materiality
No less a miracle for her
Only a woman can conceive,
Bear the baby in her womb,
And
Usher it in the elements
Salute motherhood!
©Copyright Sangeeta Sharma
She is the cutest and loveliest creation of God
The priceless gem
Who makes you feel fortuitous.
Like mimosa pudica,
The most delicate flower
Withers at
The slightest touch.
Dotingly
She pours
Heart full of love
On her subjects of
Adoration
Does all the little things
That drip with pure love.
Consoles, counsels and cheers
When you are high and dry
The beautiful axioms
And maxims
Provide solace
Struggles to make
All your dreams come true
In no time
She occupies
The distinguished place
In your heart
She is the
Neighbour’s envy
And
Owner’s pride!
© copyright Sangeeta Sharma
Agony
A daughter has to deal a lot.
Acquiescent, earnest and sensitive
She adheres to all social mores
Still treated as the ‘Other’.
Subjected to step-treatment
Dawns the realization
She is an ‘Outsider’
Wears and tears
For reciprocation!
But
It’s sheer illusion
It hurts, it pains
And is sickening.
She is the ‘Cindrella’
The ‘Cordelia’
By the time
Truth dawns
Reaches the dusk of life…
©Copyright Sangeeta Sharma
Profanity
Physical dimensions
Are integral
In this facetious world
Vital statistics
Material
Or
Physical
Are the primary yardsticks
To be successful.
Mortals are vulnerable
Those gifted flourish
Those not diminish.
( Copyright: Dr Sangeeta Sharma )
Ask the preciosity of water from a thirsty voyager!
Water, a marvelous creation of God
Is life for the one who is parched thirsty
And Death
For another who is kicking hard in its depths to remain afloat.
Is apocalyptic in its excess as well as its crunch
Drought kills and flood drowns.
The beautiful Niagara falls enchant whereas
Tsunamis scare
Survival of all the known forms of life
On the entire universe depends on this
Colourless H2O
Taste and colour changes each time
When mixed with other substances
It’s divine during summers.
Human beings survive without food
But not without water.
Poor amble miles to fetch a pail of water
Drought pushes the innocent
Into flesh trade
Plummets the economy
While the privileged enjoy long hot showers
Twice a day, soak in bathtubs and go for Jacuzzis
Water is precious
Save every worthy drop!
The shrill cry of the newborn
Infuses new life
Within the bogged down young mom
Wearied and shattered
Swollen and bruised
Past suffering the long hours of labor
Like a dream come true
The most-awaited bawl
Dissipates all weariness
Makes her feel victorious
Overwhelmed and
Full of wonderment
With the strange power of Nature
And
At her own capacity.
In the manifestation of a tot
The bundle of joy
Is a bounty from God
A boon.
She feels sanctified
Bringing a new life
Into the materiality
No less a miracle for her
It’s only a woman who can conceive
And bear the baby in her womb,
Irrigate with her blood,
And usher it in the elements
Salute motherhood!
This healer
does not recommend remedy,
Cures itself.
The longing ends
With the presence
A divine feeling!
Relieves
Pain and restiveness.
The revocable presence of the signified does
what multiple signifiers cannot.
Composes and restores
the flailing self.
Submitting is uplifting
and
Affliction, soothing
A few moments
Alas!
The Lacanian lack persists…
For them
The world
Is Utopian:
Enchanting and ethereal.
Eager to witness
The greens and multi-hued blooms
Gurgling rivers,
Cascading waterfalls,
Puffy clouds,
Mesmerising rainbows
Plumaged birds.
For them
World is
Sans ugliness, treachery and malice
Mellifluous is beautiful
In their dark limiting worlds
Where tactility and imagination
Are
The only source of knowledge
Yet
They sing and dance
Cheer each other and
Indulge in banter,
They are the less fortunate ones-
The visually-impaired
Wedded for more than two decades
But the annual pilgrimage to her parental home proves
as rejuvenating and as blissful as ever.
Welcomed by her kin with open arms
and lots of love to shower upon:
The bed-ridden mom who waits with a pining heart
to meet her little doll who has grown into a stalwart;
The big bro who survived a colossal illness
All out to strengthen the blood ties;
A silent, committed and pious Dad
Who, like the true Father, has been-
The Creator and the Preserver of the family tree;
The youngest but the wisest
who retained his good sense during the perilous storms of life
has consumed venom of life like the Great Shiva;
Proud to be a flower of such fine roots
those have retained the positivity, simplicity and loving attitude
Have blossomed despite rough weathers
Drenched in this nectar of love, the daughter, stoically readies herself for the take-off
Anxious and piteous for her ailing and aging parents,
Who would once again start the year-long wait for their deary to come.
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