Moon-trails

Picture Courtesy from Pixabay

Striking through the heavenly sky, soothing moon beams
give a strange calm to my anxious heart and it’s whims
Those infinite celestial pillars of pure, silver light
add an angelic presence to the evil maleficent night

How generous indeed is the moon like a mother
giving away perpetually all it had to some other.
Being a giver in a world reeking with greed,
scattering the radiant sun’s light as it inherited.

What a fine example have you set, O benevolent moon!
Who rewards these selfless works, O distant giver of boon,
Sometimes you shine bright and sometimes you hide
Lore revered and blemished you for changing the tide,
Sometimes you’re good and at times you’re on the wrong side
Shiva dimmed your sheen to counter your false pride
Ganesha brought you to knees for your laughing dare.
Every mother tells her child about the mythical moon-hare

Romantic as it looks to the starry eyed teens
Taking with it those dreamy moonlit scenes,
the tired night yawns and the wandering moon sleeps as well
As the pinkish dawn fights through the moon’s magical spell,
I long for those moon-lit valleys and trails
–those that we often hear in old folk tales,
with cold wintery, jittery nights and gusty gales,
those beautiful, disappearing, silvery Moon-trails.

Autumn had come again

Autumn had come again
drying up my creativity and zeal
What else can such a season evoke
but of stifled emotions and locked-up feel

Autumn had come again
just like the tree outside my window,
the poet in me saw a slow death
the tree lost more leaves than it could grow

Autumn did come again with dry winds
through empty streets giving the icy chills
Drying up the perfect human’s soul and skin
My wandering heart loiters in the high brown hills
Searching for a reason to write a poem about aging.

Oh spring, why did you leave us ?
You left us without a note or goodbye.
A soulless nuclear winter of human misdemeanor ?
No one knows what future holds in store.
All that left is an antique of what was before.
Alas! a lush green tree turned into an eyesore

Eternal Symphony

Winds’ whistle and flower’s sway,
Who arranged these notes in array ?
Leaf’s flutter, Tree’s Swish,
Isn’t that the music played to God’s wish ?

A bee’s hum and a woodpecker’s tap,
Does Nature play a harp on her lap ?
A lark’s warble and a Bird’s tweet,
What’s the undertone of this song so sweet ?

Click Clack Click, chips away the rock’s gravel
as the sculptor’s hammer strikes the chisel.
From an ugly formless stone does manifest
The beautiful lady who can allure the best.

Tick Tock Tick Tock,runs the punctual clock
Pom pom pom flare the sirens near the ship dock
Drums beat and cymbals crash, many hands clap
Setting the rhythm to the entire track

The jingle of the bangles, the beat of the native drum,
Whoosh of the whiplash, the buzz of market conundrum
the cling of the anklets, the twang of the harp,
Cuts through the rough exteriors of cruelest men sharp

Beautiful indeed is to witness the music unbound.
How melody wraps itself like a tapestry shawl around
those jolly folks gathered about a night bonfire
Happy ’cause they are content without desire.

Tempestuous waves crashed on the rock,
Breaking shy shore’s silent deadlock,
And the violent thunder of the rainstorm
Shows how nature doesn’t always conform.

Ringing bells of the village church
Tweeting Birds on the tree’s perch
Creates a strange melancholy strain
making bravest man’s courage wane

Squeal of a Boar, Lion’s roar and a deer’s groan
Owls hoot, Elephants toot and Wolves moan
Frogs croak, Donkeys bray and Crows caw,
Nature still delights in a cacophony so raw.

Melodious harmony of these universal sounds,
Opened up the unknown chambers of my heart’s bounds
Isn’t this rapturous, the soulful yet mysterious refrain,
Soothes the soul and sends it to bliss difficult to contain.

Since the time began, the cosmic harvest of galaxies was reaped
On this elegant space, the celestial dancer danced and leaped
This eternal dance still persists, as the sands of time pour on,
The mother nature invents a new step, new move and life goes on.

As tones of this resonant music flow,
Through the veins of earth’s slow.
The remnants of these strains shall sow,
A memorable song every child’ll know.

Filling a pervasive symphony from a celestial lark
in the humongous cosmic vacuum, silent and dark
Breaking, thus, the trance of lifeless warp of space time,
With light, sound and joy,  emanates life sublime.

Matter has life!!!

Image by Michael Sarver via Flickr

If anybody tells me that matter ain’t got any life, I get very much freaked out . I don’t know why people consider matter lifeless. For me, matter breathes life !! Let me make myself  clear through this lively post …where you can sense my breath flowing in form of words. The very matter which makes life grow may well be lifeless. But since it supports life, we should not call it lifeless. The soil which gives the nutrition to the seed, the air which carries the much-needed carbon dioxide to the leaves, the water which climbs up the stem of the plant to support all the branches — but for all these, is the plant able to live.  Remove one of the life supports , and the life ceases to exist. Matter therefore is as important as life is. Although nobody can deny the importance of life forms, but matter has equally significant role to play in the survival of life itself. Sunlight which seems lifeless, is responsible for life on earth.

Routine thought !!!

From the very day we started breathing, our life began. As part of our life, we did, are doing and will keep doing the routines. A routine is any act which people perform often subconsciously rather than consciously. We know how a washing machine works, so washing clothes is a routine. While we are dumping clothes for washing, we can think of several other things. I hope by now you will understand what I mean by routine.  From the childhood to adulthood, we train ourselves to do routines. We credit routines as the boring things in life ’cause we need to do them again and again.I hate trimming nails, for example, I wish they remained small forever. These routines which we despise, we hate and we complain about are probably the most important part of our lives. Let me elaborate.

Digital Humans, Analog Life

Dear friends,

I was looking through the window of a public bus on my way to the university. It suddenly hit me that the journey was continuous on the bus , but you can get down at only bus stops. Now anything discrete is digital isn’t it ? So in my example , the bus-stops are digital (it is either 0 or 1 ) and the bus ride is analog. You get the picture, don’t you ?