OLD AGE HOME

Away from old home, age being melting gold,

Searching for service in a new home,

With all sides open and loving companion

Those I want at least for last lap of my journey,

I roam from place to place with wishes

And with eyes to feel cool in new establishment

Away from burnt quotes those are still spilling

Over mind, not even blanketed being staying

Outside of old periphery scarcely three years ago,

I want to have a shelter for pleasant sun,

To love and to live there with peace

And beautiful caring personnel in that home,

That I have dreamed to live for rest of life,

But I am not blessed with vision to be reality,

As every moment I arrive at a historical epitaph,

That makes new generations alert, life is short,

And life can’t be free from pain and anxiety,

Always it favors to breathe in smoke, mingled.

A prayer to God cannot be waste.

“A prayer to God cannot be waste.”

                  - Dr. M. Thirumeni

When I was on verge of frustration,

Crawling over moratorium on my heart,

Moon is not shining well in the night,

Mind not in conversation with me,

I sat on a red platform of stone Shwasan Kali,
Burning mind like candle glows with amber, 

My mobile phone started ringing,

One voice just uttered one sentence,

“A prayer to God cannot be waste.”

Advice just poured in my ear,

Something would come out from prayer

When I pray to God, and put me

In the realm of fulfillment, sooner or later.

And the voice disappeared instantly.

FAMILY

A family has members, and

They are like flowers, protected by

Nearest papaya-tree-trunks, a society

Holding them, as if they are

Mighty scintillating and big hands,

Swinging and dancing in cool breeze,

From childhood to adulthood,

Bounded by walls of home,

Or boundary walls, those are

Usually built by human being,

Spreading to many things,

And this strangeness originates

Livelihood, performing, swimming,

When other members are onlookers, in peace,

Either in the sea, beach being resting place,

Or in the distress, other people spread hands,

For recovery, bringing peace and panacea,

Here lies longing for living in

The ocean or on the ground.

A LETTER FROM A MOTHER TO HER SON

Art Picture Credit: Shymal Bera 

A LETTER FROM A MOTHER TO HER SON

“…..As God’s will, I am a simple mother, a simple familial partner, not wise enough to guide you all the time, because you are grown enough to be an adult one who is an ample sapphire attaining age of getting married, and you are earning money by dint of your courage, struggle and merit.  

I have real experience of life in my life. We always believe that father is the head and mother is the heart of a family. And I have fought a real war. As a human being I have similar wishes for my life to live with my father and mother, but that did not happen, my mother died earlier, and I felt no attraction to go home, as our family was not at the same mark of other families, yet I have to go for my father, and I share everything with him, a feeling of loss of enjoyment prevailed in my mind when I was young. After that I have got married, and then my situation has been changed.

You has just passed mid 20 year of age, it is right time for getting married. Your father and I want to have one lovely woman in your life. If you don’t get married now, how we can see a lovely woman in your life, and in our family, too. And this young lady will be heart of the total family. Just think one occasion, when your father was sick, we are all him. Ups and downs are always with our life. Still there is dream. Just think who will stand by you in bad situations, when we are running all time with these. And on the other hand, who will stand during your good times, to enrich your happiness. I think a man without wife is only a soldier to lift a lid of skeleton in the battle field. I, as mother, do not want that.  

I will not tell you to think again and again, I wish to share my experience, so far I have contacted different families for negotiations of your marriage, because I think it is our i.e. parent’s duty to get their sons settled with income, marriage, and home. And in such type of negotiations, after getting our information, no one feel the urge to make a return call to us, taking it as matter of courtesy. Even they are highly believer of horoscope, gon, caste, and any one did not make me any return call. Even in a case, someone had asked me about salary at the first chance, and did not call twice.  Someone was not willing to change one’s work place, the groom has to change his working place, someone asked me to know your gon like, Debgon, Norgan, Rakshasgan, and horoscope will be studied.

My son, I am still searching one family who will simply call me in turn and show their interest. Surely the bride will be matching with your status and wishes.

Please don’t hesitate to inform me if you find someone to be your bride of your choice and wishes.

WITH LOVE .........”

WAR AND PEACE

Everyday news come with photographs those hold news of war, blasts, tears, from places where morning has sequel of smoke, sarin or chlorine gas fomented dreaded paces. Cactus loses its beauty, peeled bags full of bones, tied with yellow grass threads, (although everyone does not want to let everything go with anger and apathy), and bodies of children horribly contorted, lifeless, and wrapped with white papers.  Places are there where sounds of guns roar for decades, followed by another warned moments, and deserted lands, exodus of refugees, more and more and more. No one knows when and where peace will prevail for shake of humanity and other values of life, hope, existence, for constructing gardens where downpour rains, green grass to sprout, no difference between mine and theirs, and we stop fuming up anger, agony and stop seeing human being dead by war and let life go with colors and dream, like flying of kites in delight of lights, in the vast sky, and its darkness is a beauty of wonders, and sky is not an urn full of ashes.    

HOW TO SMILE

When my mind burns,

Heart feels pain of many puzzles

Those are tainted with sorrows,

And happened to be fearsome,

Life being not performing

With right actions from

Entities those are pondering

With sections cut by a knife,

Frustrations everywhere,

Remorse it is there not to live,

But to get a death, a chase for

Emancipation, as impediments

Gets stuck around life’s journey,

No dear one near to life.

Then I go to flowers,

They only smile, not knowing,

How they bloom and seasons

Accept them as great creation,

Every time they come and prosper.

Flowers only say, “Smile always.”

But how?

An insect is there to eat away essence.

GAME OF TRUTH

Truth cannot be eroded;

It can’t be brought in iron nests,

With super concrete propaganda,

At a high price paid to scrape out truth.

As time passes, moisture may junk

On surface, yet its pink petals make

The verse free, even if, it is declared

None has any origin, an afterthought

Arising from power mongers.

Like genetic equipment, truth records

The track of living like a king,

Someone tricked it for puzzled game,

Truth is not fond of the coercion,

Even if fiasco is established.

And a poem is born in silence

Truth cannot be eroded.  

,

EARTH DAY 2018

A bit of the nature,

A bit of life,

A bit of human touch,

All make light and soul,

A celebration of Earth Day, we follow.  

LOVE IN THE MONTH OF APRIL

Picture Credit: Bluebell Books Twitter Club 

Long ago, there was once love, she was young,

Live with sensation, but his speeches held up,

Line of words, book of openness fell apart,

Loss of spirit, to talk with her became silent,

Lingering, courage demurred, fear got momentum,

Lest she would not speak to him, feeling ignored.

Like prayers, he stood alone like sorrowful morning,

Listening to her words uttered to someone else who

Little spoke, and he did not understand if it was

Large for one’s talks of service above their company,

Long, perhaps longer, he waited to talk with her,

Lying alone, on shore for holding everything in

Love, to take her as lady of his heart, no jealousy,

Lined up, he preferred to promise for journey,

Life’s partner for all time on utterance of priests,

Letting values of a husband to say wisdom honor.

Long time passed, and now she is sitting, before him,

Leaning in a sofa of the banquet hall with her daughter,

Looking at her, he thinks past is a brief moment,

Loving someone for all time is pleasing and forgiving.

DEPRIVED OF BODY’S FITNESS

Photo Credit: Hyde Park Poetry, Thursday Poets Rally week 86

I am waiting for her, a lady-beauty, to meet first,

When evening is emblazoned with flood lights,

The street is busy, cars, taxies, AC, non-AC buses,

Pedestrians make way through running vehicles,

And at the time of meeting in this road-crossing,

One young lady just appears before me, from crowd,

And says, “Madam will not meet you, Sir,

She is frightened; you have such a big tummy,

Odd looking against odd looking, so sorry she is.”

I return home, look at my body in the mirror,

Geometrical figure is not shaped, curved like the very

Alphabet ‘a’ with short legs, not attractive, disgusting,

I cannot control the pant, fitted with belt, not to slip out,

I go to doctor for working out how to shape, to build

A figure with manly curves, muscles, no pot belly,

It is to be a painting work on canvas by an artist.

Doctor just advices,

“You have to take small quantity of meals, two times,

A little tiffin, snacks, all to be nutritious, balanced food,

A cup of rice, veg curry, a lot of fish, salads, one apple,

One pomegranate, to be included in menu, and a little exercise.” 

Most food to be prepared at home, no restaurant food,

Not to eat from foot-path eateries, not to take much

Carbohydrates, only living protein to be eaten in home,

It is not easy to shape body like painting work of artist

Such body I do have immerges into breathing problem,

And it is like calling death before time that bears natural.

I am at a crucial point to break my body’s drowned fitness.

BRAVE CHILDREN

Picture Credit: Blue bell books.blogspot.short-story-slam-week-86

Kids are gentle in the morning light,

Being innocent, they enjoy every moment,

While playing, keeping mind pure as light,

In their endless searching and learning with

Elders who help them to train nascent minds

To know the truth to find plucking of apples

In the orchard is like gathering knowledge

About life and nature and bees, altogether,

Those hold history, story, poetry and

Thus they move into speeches of God’s men,

And know good persons, who say about truth,

About light, day and night thus created for

Distinguishing what it is good or evil

And they learn talking about good things.

They will sacrifice for others who love them.

THE PLAY

                                                Photo Credit: Blue Bell Books Twitter Club

There are two little children - one boy and one girl - both are of six years’ old, playing in a children’s park in a spring afternoon, some conversation is there between them from innocent talks, to know each other’s pretty minds:

“Where do you live?” says she, “Far away in that direction.  We go by auto-rickshaw.”

He points out little fingers towards east.

- “Who takes you here? My mother is there.” she points out to one beautiful lady sitting on a lawn- chair a little far away.

- “My grandpa comes with me.” says the little boy.

The little girl takes a glance at the old aged man with silvered hair, standing nearby.

- “Where is your mother?” She said,

- “My mother goes on a long duty, she cannot come. She will return home next day after four mornings.” He says.

By this time, mother of the girl calls her daughter and takes her away from the children’s park. The boy stands stoned with a glance on the way they have gone away from the park.

Every playing is sweet,

And everyone plays a part in it.

Parting away isn’t pardonable,

Flower shreds something

We have touched,

Perfume in deep sensation

Left behind by flower’s kindness,

A gift we receive with warmth of heart.

It reminds us a paradise

Where we feel warmth and kindness

And leave it with some

Sweet memory, the little boy perceives.

RESOLUTION OF LIFE

Poem - 12

The sun promises to appear, crimson red,

Cool, round, vivid, pleasant, vibrant, stoic,

Everyone on the beach picked phone-cameras

To click buttons to picturize the entire scene.

The young couple stood close face to face

A little space between for taking snap of her,

He took phone-camera to clear her full view,

Positional crave on the phone-monitor, for

High definition resolution output, turned on,

A short-lived posture, worth much, pieces of

Strong memory, to be picturized for love, and

Created by him for song of love, on beach.

By the event for loving hearts, she is quiet,

And leans to photogenic position, like wonder

Of water flowing and seeking way to stratum

To see more, to feel more, and to learn more,

About him who waves changes in her eyes,

Where she finds noble performance, and

He goes without a word with her terms of

Dedication and someone takes him for her. 

LOVE FOR BIRDS

I am listening to all sound tracks

Of the earth, reverberating 
Either in the air, or in black holes,

In search of voice of chirping birds,

That can comfort me, to bear resonance -

Life is not hard, everything is worth living,

And dream brings moral for life,

Sorrows brings changes in conciousness.

Fire is not languishing burns,
It burns amoral activities. 

Bodies are not machines,
But are geometrical form for living of soul. 

Human being is manifestation of living self 
and its consciousness, as I feel it,

Singing is an occasion of  rhythm of heart,

And when I wake up every morning

I love to see glimpse of  beautiful birds, 
Either in the garden or in the balcony, 

They sing to hug with the nature for getting purified.  

And it will create first line of my next poem,

All their appearance will fill emptiness with love,

To gleam with words, those hold respect to delight
That is the source and beginning of wonderful things
Upon the earth for living and for going through 

Existence of the universe. 

It is substance for life and for poetry.

AWAKE IN THE MORNING OF KALI PUJA

Birds chirp in the morning,

Awake to hear drum beats

To greet Kalipuja, surrounded

By pleasing sound with tune

Of courage of early morning,

Birds flock around upon a cord,

Their voice opens treasure of

Hope and wisdom to connect

Our heart with Mother Kali’s blessings,

Goddess of divinity, protecting us

With Jaba flower dancing in

The morning delight, whispering

For enthralls to call us all

To live in Heavenly earth with

Peaceful movement, moment of

Journey for prayer, comfortably.