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Poetry

Remembering a lost brother


Death is something we all have to face one day
And so it took our darling malli away
Silently and suddenly you went away
Without a word you left us in dismay


Our lives go on without you
But nothing is the same you know
Amma and thaththa lost a jewel
Million silent tears they shed


Your sisters and brothres felt the same
We hold a billion memories
Accidently we still call your name
'Coz we've been so close to you


So Neranjan! Deep in our hearts
You will always stay
May your Samsara journey be short
And attain the Supreme Bliss of Nirvana


To Rev. Mother Agnes


As a five year old
I was suckled by the convent,
be-spectacled sweet Mother Agnes
taught me to sing and play the Pide Piper,
the mice were the frolicsome kids
who followed me and rolled themselves
to be drowned under the mango tree
where now stands the mission house,
I remember the girl who annoyed me
then, in the class and outside,
When I met her some months
ago at an Orchid Show. She has overgrown
with desire. The glint in her eye
was still there,
she whispered, "You're Mother Agnes' boy. The
faint blue eyes overladen with compassion
were before mine, she stroked my head and
softly spoke "don't be naughty, my darling."
Dominus Vobiscum.

E.F.


Little pieces of nothings


Little pieces of nothings that I write
Words woven to tell stories from life
Once in a while I stumble on you
And I find myself immersed in love


You ask me why I write poetry
And I cannot reply in one word or two
Just the way you want me to do


Little pieces of nothing I just write
It is where I find my sanity and my peace
I find my refuge in poetry
And I rediscover myself in my own words


Yes, I still write little pieces of nothings
They are the stories that I tell from life


Doubt


What needs fixing is doubt which limits,
With proven direction, lest it inhibits;
Each harboured uncertainty be resolved promptly
Information lets one see clearly,
Indecisions puzzle - then, question, read, practice -
Confidence is born of conviction.
If we do not clear our doubts,
We remain in ignorance.


Is the practice - path -
Effective in creating happiness?
Is desire really the cause of this arising -
Could a different remedy like atoning,
Be easier or quicker? Is mind the
Dynamic force that pervades over matter?
Sceptic we continue, until we know better;
With insight following continuous practice.


Questions unanswered, irk and
Spawn suspicion in inquiring minds:
Helpless when threatened;
Accepting, when forced by might,
Impatient to shake shackles off -
Doubt is a wound, bleeding;
Information is the tourniquet
That averts disaster.


Unique among teachings,
Encouraged is questioning;
Query ceaselessly -
Tradition, hearsay, report -
Yes, even the authorities,
Till doubting vanishes.
Else, how does one keep faith alive,
Unwavering; while remaining naive?


On the Road


The repelled lover
Now the eyes sunk
Around tired lines
Nature still remains
Cruel, and unmoved
The sun be witched
Sets alight sarcasm
humiliated lover
Walking along
Blistered feet and limbs
Thrust, hunger
Prevail constant
The lover now searches
Seeks food and water
Tear filled eyes
A fluttering heart
A depressed mind
Now, walks abandoned
Fear anxiety grips
A terrified mind
Unable to comprehend
The ultimate rejection
Unwanted love
An wanted man.


Cruelty


Cruelty,
Thou comest smiling,
That is thy mastery.
Thou comest thundering,
with blades discharging with thy breath. Mouth.
Cruelty,
you hide weeping
when there's nothing "cruelty" can do,
You seek Love
unnoticed by the world,
'Cos you are tired of
being what you are not,
Cruelty,
Thou finds your challenge
When Kindness comest your way and forgives thee,
because it is in your nature to forget.


Birthday thoughts


Was it said, the pot of gold is found
Where the rainbow dips, beyond the horizon,
Across the oceans, where we cannot see?
So they heard, and left their land of birth,
In a quest for it.


To ageing parents, such distances and such presence
Of loved ones ....... so much a part of themselves....
In such far off lands, are hard to comprehend:
An occasional wire-borne voice of theirs,
A fading echo in a void, and an infrequent written word,
A scrawl, very unreal.


Yet transcending both time and distance,
When their memories stir, ever fresh and fragrant,
Treasured and preserved, reaching out to them...
Only they are real.


The Headmaster


Pin drop silence reigns
As the headmaster donned in coat,
Armed with a cane,
Walks into the class.
Thunder breaks - Words shower.
Accusations!, Warnings!, Threats!,
Fill the silent air.
Passive eyes struck with chilling fear,
Listening, - Not a word 'uttered".
Each passing moment,
Tension mounts coupled with eerie silence.
Like from the blues,
A timid "little criminal" is picked up.
The hand that warms the pencil
Unfolds the bear rosy palm
With quivering finger tips.
The cane cracks! - Tears burst!
The 'Little criminal" writhing in pain
Kneels down, pleading mercy!

 

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