A Tribute

Be not proud

O death!

To have snatched,

The most precious of our gems;

 Leaving us shocked and shattered.

You must have gained in our loss,

And will be feeling richer,

But that's only half-truth,

You can pamper yourself with.

For what you have taken,

 Was only her mortal frame,

And not an iota of the aura,

Surrounding that blessed name.

  The legacy she leaves behind,

    Is as alive and mesmerizing,

   As her God-gifted golden voice,

   Divine in its very essence.

   Now mingled with the elements,

    As part of the universal spirit,

   It  will continue resonating forever,

    In timeless melodies of Nature.

 

A  tribute to the legendary singer Bharat Ratna Lata Mangeshkar.

HOUSE OR HOME?

                              Are the ' house' and  'home' 

                              Synonymous words? 

                              Though apparently similar

                              They are way too different

                              In their essence.

                             

                              

                                                   

                               A  house is just a structure

                               Of any size or  design 

                               Small, simple and trivial 

                               Or big, imposing and royal.

                   

                               A little cottage or skyscraper

                               Roadside  hut or luxury motel

                              Any safe shelter you can stay in

                              Paying duly for what it offers.  

                              

                              And a home? Is it a house too,

                             Made of bricks, cement and iron?
                            Indeed, but upgraded in many ways

                              To make it most desirable.

                             A place you  long to return to

                              Seeking solace and  respite

                            After every outside wandering

                              Rewarding or otherwise.

                     .

                    

                           A resort where you  needn't pay

                           For boarding and lodging 

                           All  services being free  therein 

                           With personal care in addition.

                            A place kept  alive forever

                           By members of the household

                            Inseparably bound  together

                               In loving familial cord.

                           

                                

                               

                                

                                

                             

                                

                                

                              

                               

                            

                                  

        

       

SOUNDS OF HOPE

                     

                     The  sound of hope is, 

               The sweetest ever we hear,

              When things get hard to deal with,

               It assures that life will go on,

               Despite all the hurdles there. 

           

              The sound of hope is,

               In the siren of an ambulance,

               Rushing to save precious lives,

               In the alarm bells of a fire brigade,

               On a mission to douse killer fires.

              The sound of hope is,

             In the thunder of  dark clouds,

             Appearing in a  corner of the sky,

              Heralding the arrival of rain,

             At the peak of the burning summer.

            The sounds of hope are varied,

             Their tunes and tones  differ,

           But they have a feature in common,   

            They  all received with cheers,

             They all are music to ears!

THE NIGHT AFTER FULLMOON

    

         The moon is not perfect tonight,

       Its glow, too, is not so bright,

       Nor does it look as confident,

        As it did last night.

       The moon is not full tonight,

       And not so enchanting either,,

       To make tides rise high, 

       In excitement to touch the sky.

     I know it will keep on waning,

       Both in size and brilliance,

      Bit by bit through the fortnight, 

     And once will even disappear.

    

       But truly, it's resilient enough,

       To bounce back and  resume,

      Its eternal journey  in the firmament,

      Though different in look every time.

                                

                                         

                                    I wish I could be,,

                     Like flowers in the wild,

                   That bloom there unconditionally,

                    And be the reason of smile,

                   For bees, butterflies and hummingbirds.

                            I  wish I could be,

                          Like a flower in a remote valley,

                          Blooming in sweet silence,

                          Making the surroundings fragrant,

                          Without any admirer nearby.

  

                         I wish I could be,

                       Like cactus flower in the desert,

                        Blooming in the burning sand,

                        And appear to defy the harsh heat,

                        With a spirit of calm forbearance.

                       

                         

                         

                          

WORDS

 

                              Words are part of my existence

                     Through them I express myself

                      And share my mind and heart

                      With the people around.

                    But sometimes they desert me

                    Making it rather impossible

                    To convey what I really mean

                     And the way I wish to do so.

                     Then all I do is, to keep silent

                      And wait for them to return

                      I know they will sure be back

                      Like life-long companions,

                    Enabling me to reconnect

                   With the world, I always belong

                  The people I love to be with

                   In the vibrant fair called life.

NIGHT IS STANDING AT MY DOOR

 

                            The night is standing at my door

                   Like a much-concerned mother

                  Asking me to take a break

                  And go to her fold to relax.

                  It won't be wise to ignore her,

                 As I too, am feeling tired

                And she is a true well-wisher

                Offering the much-needed rest.

              She is standing at my door

             Promising to rejuvenate  my mind 

             So, humbly I surrender myself to her care

              The unfinished work, I will resume later.