ERASURE

                               Sometimes I feel my mind,
                               Cluttered with unsavoury pictures
                               Engraved deep in the subconscious, 
                               Occupying most of its vital features.

                               Memories of hurtful behaviour, 
                               Of  ingratitude and betrayals,
                               Failures and painful partings,
                               Keep haunting the present,

                               As dreadful nightmares. 

                               How often do I wish,
                              To find  a magic  eraser,
                               That could wipe them for once,
                               Leaving  the canvas of mind,

                               All clean for fresh entries.

                            Paintings of uplifting emotions,

                           Dwelling deep in the abyss of heart,

                           Paintings of tough life- lessons,

                           Learnt in the school of the world.

                         

                         

                         

                         

                              

I WISH I COULD BE ...

G

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  
                              I wish I could be,
                    Like the flowers in the wild, 
                   That bloom unconditionally,
                  And be the reason of smile, 
                  For bees, butterflies and birds.

                            I wish I could be,,
              Like the flowers in a remote valley,
                      That bloom in sweet silence, 
             And  make the surroundings fragrant,
                 With no admirers nearby. 

                         I wish I could be,
              Like the flowers of a desert cactus,
                That bloom in the burning sand,
              Defying the unkind climate,
               With a spirit of forbearance.

MY ROOTS

                           

                         My roots inspire me,
                    To keep growing upward,
                   Yet remain grounded all along, 
                            Bound fast to the mother earth.

                          That I gain strength enough, 
                      To withstand the changing seasons,
                         And be able to bear  boldly, 
                        The vagaries of unkind weather. 

                   They provide me with the succour,
                    Needed for growth and wellness,
                    Keep helping me to flourish,
                   Without seeking a return favour. 

                   I can never cease to belong them,
                      And can hardly exist  alone,
                  Am here because they support  me,
                Though remaining ever underground. 

WRITING

                                       




                                                  Writing makes me feel,
                                   Relieved of the undue stress,
                                  That hangs over me sometimes,
                                   Pushing my spirits downwards,


                                   It makes me feel lightweight,
                                   As if  freed from some burden,
                                   Making me free to think afresh,
                                 And regain my waning confidence.

                                  Writing rejuvenates my mind, 
                                  And lights up the memory store,
                                  As I search for appropriate words,
                                  To carry what I am keen to share. 

                                    It helps me build up a bridge,
                                   To connect with the outside world,
                                    Enabling me to share with others,
                                   What I  feel to be of some worth!

WRITING

A PIECE OF PAPER

•                                      I pour down my feelings,
•                                        Onto a piece of paper,
•                                       Which silently absorbs, 
•                                        Whatever I spill upon it.
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•                                      It asks me no questions,
•                                    As to why I'm upset or glad,
•                                    Nothing seems to bother it,
•                                     Whether I'm happy or sad. 
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•                                  I mind not its indifference,
•                                  As it's just a piece of paper,
•                                   And not a bosom friend,
•                                  Supposed to feel concerned.
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•                                   Yet I take this inanimate thing,
•                                     As my most trusted partner,
•                                  Who listens to me with patience,
•                                  Without ever being judgemental!
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LIFE .....

              Life would have been less complicated
                      If it were allowed to happen
                      As per a self scripted play
                      Scene after scene, act after act 
                And we had known what to do next 

           There would be no room for confusion
           No uncertainties, nothing undesirable
               All results known beforehand 
           And the ending be always perfect
            With every player duly rewarded!

     But if ever I were offered such a gift,

                        I may hardly be willing to accept it,                            For a life as smooth as that 

Will be lacking in reality,

           And the joys of natural living.