ODE TO A PHOENIX

                                           Ode  To A Phoenix
         

                                                Nestled  cosily on the branch,

                                                Of a blossoming tree,
                                                she had just begun to weave,
                                                Dreams of a  joyous tomorrow.
                         
                                               But Fate and death conspired,

                                               And hatched a cruel plot,
                                              To nip her hopes in the bud,

                                               Before she could wake up.

                                               There fell a bolt from the blue,
                                              Hitting her nest unawares,,
                                              Bringing it down to the earth,
                                              Shattered and burnt to the core.
.
                                               Too deeply hurt by the  blow,
                                               To  feel her  wounded self,
                                               She lay petrified, stunned,
                                            Among wrecks of her rosy dreams.

                                            But before  the deadening  woe,
                                           Could  kill her lively spirit,
                                           She  resolved to wipe her eyes, 
                                           And rise up to face what was due.
   
                                             With slow but sure strife,
                                             She flew through mist and snow,
                                             Carving her route to resurrection,

                                             Leaving behind the dead wreckage.

                                             And lo! She has made it at last!
                                             Reaching the land of bright sunshine,
                                             She is perched on the high olive branch,,
                                                Revived in spirit and zest again. 
                         
                                           Rising from the dust and ashes, 

                                            She  is ready to soar high up  and higher,

                                           While I  rub my eyes in wonder  -
                                          Does Phoenix belong to legends only?


Note---
Dedicated to a  young lady who joined Indian Army when her husband laid down his life guarding the national border in Siachen glacier. .She decided to follow his noble career and underwent the tough military training to resume the service of the nation just where he had left it ....
                       
                     This Braveheart is my Phoenix and this poem, my salute to her indomitable spirit!
            





         









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GRATITUDE

                                     On World Gratitude Day
Gratitude,
    The noblest of  emotions
         That springs forth from the depth of heart.
        At  times expressed  through palpable signs,
             But often, too shy for words or gestures,  
                  Dwells contained inside!
                   Both ways creates a state of bliss
                       Invisible as music but soothing as a song.
     Gratitude, the fondest of gifts one can give or receive.
            Like 'mercy' it is  a  two-fold blessing,
                ''It blesseth him that gives and him that takes''.1
           
1. Shakespeare    

A poem from Gitanjali

When the heart is hard and parched up 
   Come upon me with a shower of mercy ,
         When grace is lost from life 
               Come with a burst of song  .
                    When tumultuous work raises its din on all sides
                         Shutting me out from beyond ,
                              Come to me ,my lord of silence,
                                   With thy peace and rest  .
                When my beggarly heart sits crouched ,shut up in a corner ,break open the door ,my king ,and come with the ceremony of a king .

When desire blinds the mind with delusion and dust ,O thou holy one ,thou wakeful ,come with thy light and thy thunder .
Gitanjali ,39 

(This beautiful poem by Tagore has been very close to my heart ever since l found it .A constant companion ,it has  helped me maintain my faith in the all embracing benevolence of the supreme power that manifests itself in varied forms ,ranging from soft showers to  threatening thunderbolts , appearing  in accordance with   the need and situation .)
                 

A POEM FROM GITANJALI

When the heart is hard and parched up ;

    come upon me with a shower of mercy .

When grace is lost from life ;

   Come with a burst of song .

When tumultuous work raises its din on all sides shutting me out from beyond;

Come to me  my lord of silence 

With thy peace and  rest .

When my beggarly heart sits crouched ;shut up in a corner  ;break open the door ; my king ; and come with the ceremony of a king  .

When desire blinds the mind with delusion and dust ;O thou holy one ;thou wakeful ;come with thy light and thy thunder  

.  Geetanjali  39

                ( This beautiful poem has always been very close to my heart  ;ever since I found it for the first time ; a constant  companion  all through ; it has   helped  me maintain  my faith in the all embracing   benevolence  of the supreme  power  that manifests itself    in many forms   ranging from soft , soothing          showers  to the  lightening and thunder  as per the need of the  situation .)

When the heart is hard and parched up ,

Come upon me with a shower of mercy   

           

         When grace is lost from life  

              Come with a burst of song   

                     

                     When tumultuous work raises its din on all sides  shutting me out from beyond ,

     Come to me my lord of silence 

                      With thy peace and rest  .

When my beggarly heart sits crouched ,shut up in a corner ,

      Break open the door ,my king ,and come with the ceremony of a king .

            When desire blinds the mind with delusion and dust , O thou holy one , thou wakeful ,come with thy light and thy thunder  .

Dear friends the pieces of writing that you find here ;are the pearls of wisdom  picked by me  during my readings ;my only claim  to them  is  my affinity to the thought expressed by the author  ;known or unknown .
Somehow ; i believe that  you will relish  going through them ; just as l do  .
 ..

Words-----
Words can confer strength , they can drain it off  ,words can gain friends ,they can turn them into enemies , words  can elevate or lower the individual .One must learn the habit of making one's words  sweet soft and pleasant .
Atharva Veda