Poetry is a spontaneous overflow of emotions
Poetry is magical but needs no special potions
Poetry needs only a heart full of love and devotion
Poetry keeps coming in waves,it's a bit like the ocean
Poetry reveals the poet's heart ,it sets feelings in motion
Poetry is a delight , a stress buster akin to soothing lotion
Poetry helps me stay calm in the face of impending explosion
Poetry helps me pen my thoughts
when overcome by emotion
Happy International Poetry Day
Black and white are the only shades I know
Not for me the shades of gray though
Not for me the pressure of pretence
Not for me hypocritical show of reverence
I wear my heart on my sleeve
Am not afraid to my own
opinions weave
A majority need not always be right
Why give up easily when for truth we can fight
By my values I will always stand
Even if it means living on a lone island
Mingling with others should promote healthy creativity
Not for me the bane of herd mentality
Even on that island I'm far from alone
For I have my best friend with me, He who I call my own
A simple child
That lightly draws its breath
and feels its life in every limb
What should it know of death?
Beg to differ Mr Wordsworth
There are some babes as young as three
who know the meaning of death
and know what death can be.
Mum, “ said he Why do you cry?
For your Grandpa that died, said she.
But he has gone to another world
Waste not your tears, said he.
For he who comes but has to go
Cant stay forever, said he
Such is the way of the world, you know
Space is limited you see.
Some will come and some will go
The cycle will go on you see
Wipe your tears and move on with life
Memories there still will be.
Etched in my memory is that day
When that little boy not quite three
Explained to Mum what death can be
As simply as ever could be.
He saw me weeping and asked me why,
A child of four, he had never seen me cry.
Explained to him about the phone call that day
Bearing bad news from far away,
My dearest uncle, a doctor at that,
Passed away suddenly of a heart attack.
Mourning him, my tears they fell,
I was alone, with no one to tell.
Except for my little boy who sat close by
Wondering what happens to people when they die.
Mum, he said ,Where do people go when they die?
“Heaven,my dear”, said I in reply.
“Do Indians go to Indias heaven?” he persisted
“Maybe”, said I not knowing where he led.
“If so, where would we go when we die?
Indian we are but migrated to Australia
Will God take us to Indias heaven or will it be Australias?”
Stumped by this, my tears I drained.
Sat him down and to him explained.
“God made one world, man made countries.
In life we may be separate
In Death we will unite
All of us to one heaven will go
The Indians, Australians and even the Eskimo”.
Pleased with that, he walked away
His doubts allayed , his fears at bay.
For a babe of four, that was a thought profound.
Do we need to book a space in heaven as we do on ground?
And then I thought what joy to me
my sons had brought.
The twinkle in their eyes,
their thoughts so wise,
their words so profound.
Me they did astound.
The elder one with a flair
for the scientific,
The younger with the skill
to make the mundane sound exotic
Visual spatial the first,
Auditory sequential the second
So apart still so alike
Hard to separate the two tykes.
One sees the world in pictures
The other in words
Caught in the middle
I try to make sense of both worlds
The one role I love
An honour on me bestowed
To be twice blessed thus
No mother could ask for more
Joy to my heart they bring
their words like sweet music ring
A diamond and sapphire ring he bought
for Mummy dear this year
With tears of joy my eyes filled
No gift do I hold more dear.
The greatest joy however will be
when I behold
my little boys turn into young men
good and bold
Worthy citizens, the planet their stage
Ah that would be bliss in old age.
But for now let me enjoy
the beauty of childhood
the precious moments of today
Boys will become men
But memories will stay
With each passing day I am falling hopelessly in love with you
Now I understand what Radha and Meera went through
No longer do I care about wealth and riches
I only want your company, something my soul cherishes
Each time I sing your praise my eyes,they brim with tears
It is , as though, they wash away all my fears
When I'm alone with you, there is nothing more I crave
I wouldn't regret it one bit if that spot became my grave
All I know is one thing, I can't bear separation from you
I know, I need to complete my duties but I yearn to return back to you
This time when I return there will be no coming back
That is the only goal for me while I put my life back on track
Are mums and dads baggage meant to be put away?
How would you have grown if they had thought the same way?
Old age is but second childhood
Is it fair to banish them into an unknown neighbourhood?
Are they at an age where they can make new friends?
Take care of themselves and adapt to new trends
Why deny your children the warmth of grandparents?
Feel blessed if you have the chance to live with aged parents
We won't realise their worth until they are gone
Then it will be too late for our mistakes to atone
An old age home can never replace their son
Never commit the sin of separating parents and son
For one day it will be our turn too
God forbid the tables could well turn on you
Let us learn our lesson while we still have time
And ensure parents are looked after when well past their prime.
A friend will never beat around the bush
A friend will give you a much needed push
A friend will always do a good turn
A friend will not expect anything in return
A friend will be honest in his feedback
A friend will never stab you in the back
A friend may not say what you want to hear
A friend's good intentions, however, you need never fear
A friend has your best interest in mind
A friend ,true and fair, is God's gift to mankind
