Even I arc a rainbow
painting my hut
with its colour
and thatch it, with
labour of my love
A little sparrow; always
alight from the downcast sky
to roost herself on the roof
and by the voice of extinction
spread my sorrow
beak after beak.
Unbeknownst to me
She put a reminder
how, that unfortunate day
I lost my fledglings
nestled into my heart

A LOOK-171

Happiness I have shared with many,
but my sorrows are exclusively mine.
My smile is for others, not my tears.
My tears are too precious,
too close to my heart to be part of
someone else’s feelings and emotion.

Smruti Ranjan Mohanty©

• 

On an elusive and endless road,
Carrying tons of sins as head load,
With a body that feels thorns on path,
A pilgrim progresses fearing God’s wrath.

Hearing crunch of stones underfoot,
Sometimes a forest owlet’s hoarse hoot,
Even time itself is iced up, frozen solid,
The pilgrim, so steadfast yet so stolid.

Wading through desert of sand dunes,
Gazing at sullen and dim Arabian moon,
To Kabah, metaphorical house of God,
The Holy ground his feet did trod.

Another one climbs summits of high cliffs,
Tunnels, channels, chasms and rifts,
Bound for Kailash, Lord Shiva’s abode,
Pushing on along the untrodden road.

But the distant shrine is so near to find,
Not seven seas apart, but in core of mind,
Allah, Christ and Shiva dwells there,
But thy mind to escape from snare.

Neither in Heaven not in earth,
Not in the wide world in it’s girth
But in the mind of a trekking pilgrim,
Find Him, O’ devotee, using thy wisdom.

(C) K.Radhakrishnan

the serene solitude
of a projecting cliff
washed by splashing blue water
whistling sea breeze
cold teeth rattle with shiver vibes
in the backdrop a lone tree

daily the seagulls are awakened
by the chant of sacred syllable ‘Aum’
a woman dives deep into the sea
to the fathoms of meditation
overflowing with love, compassion
she sings, dances to the rhythm
drumming with cosmic energy
floating in ecstatic vibrato
slowly settles down to earth
prayers from her depth of calmness
let all beings and non beings dwell in peace and harmony

Doves of peace,
crows and falcons
pigeons, angels of heaven
encircling her calmness
island of positive vibes
fearless tranquil dawn
away from messy world

one day it happened
no more hovering song birds
surprised she looked around
Inside a negative thought cliffhanging
she noted the point
wisdom of the nature

Startled , she then looked up to see
Dark eyes that watched her with a glint
Of mischief in them , just a hint
And as of old , yes , it was he

She blushed , her hot cheeks all a-glow
Her heart could not but skip a beat
When in a moment swift and fleet
She felt their proximity grow

The next second in strong embrace
Caught suddenly she smelt the musk
Of his warm breath and felt the husk
Of her old self slip out of place

A new passion set them aflame
Old reservations flew away
New life began on that new day
That had no room for hurt or blame

( Amita Sarjit Ahluwalia )

Unsettled in Mind
By Dr Swati A Gadgil
Unsettled in mind
suspended thoughts
defying gravity
confusion I fought…..
void undefined
hollow walls encasing
a shapeless space
DNAs escaping…..
bonds so strong
yet fragile are the strings
difficult to hold
sustainability on brink…..
easier to scatter
with a blow of destiny,
than to gather
with scent of harmony…..
naive to follow
cohesive rules of Universe
demonish it feels
to break and disperse…..
definition of space
convincing and cogent
yet happiness trace
volatile and tangent……
unless ostracized
will not feel the pulse,
or when sent to coventry
on some random impulse…..
unsettled in mind
suspended thoughts
defying gravity
confusion I fought…..
©Dr Swati A Gadgil,
All Rights Reserved.

How did you
spent,
the exophoric night;
before
tears
took a drop
silently
under a wet leaf,
tenderly
glowing by the night light
at the wee hours

Under the tree, they wait, huddled in groups, these

workers, part of the floating population that keeps the

megapolis floating. the workers in lungis and denim, wearing

hankies to ward off the Cornoa-19, wait for their turn, near the

police station, ready with the certificates. The out-of-job men

await their turn before the Sahibs; a group of real stoics, these

men of the slums, hungry and famished,

their dusty villages beckon mother-like,

the poor wage earners, in the long

lockdown,

these republicans, long forgotten by the system.

(Publication credit: Poetry in Quarantine edited by Dr Savita Deogirkar and Dr Shaleen Singh)