MY OASIS

 

                                                                                                                                                    

                      Deep down in  my heart,

                  In one of its  secret chambers,

                 There lies a cool, shady space,

                  I love to call my oasis.

                      Built-up of  fond memories

                      Crystallized as precious pictures

                       That come alive to  help me 

                     In facing the odds, whatever.

                         I slip into it  as often,

                        As the heat around gets higher,

                        And I need to feel  pampered,

                        In its cool, comforting bower.

                        I feel every one of us,

                    Should create a resort within,

                    Where sure refuge may be found 

                     In times of rough weather. 

 Picture Courtesy

Pixabay. com.

APRIL SHOWERS ...

                  

             ''April showers bring May flowers'', 

           But there is no trace of  clouds in the sky today,

           Should I still expect showers on this hot April day,

          Can there be rain without the clouds, ever?  

          Yet, I imagine them appearing on the horizon,

          Loaded with waterbags, ready to pour down,

            Give each one of the trees and plants its due,

                Here, there and almost, everywhere.

               For, I have  been an unfailing  optimist,

                Just like any of my village folk,

                 Simple  but strong in their faith,

                 Trusting God and nature forever.

                 My own faith, too, is as unfaltering,

                 Can never be bruised or  shattered,

                Or oscillate between hope and doubts,

                 Prior to or post a  real experience.

  

       

COVID TIME.... TIME

 

 The eternal traveller,

 Keeps moving on unseen,

Been on the non-stop run,

 Since the beginning of creation.

 

    Countless ages have gone by,

    Myriads of events taken place,

    But the moving wheels of its chariot,

    Are never seen taking a break.

     

    

    

    Since this peculiar traveller,

     Never stays anywhere to rest, 

    The curse it has brought along,  

   Will too be carried away as it moves.

    

     

'Curse' here  refers to the pandemic Covid Nineteen

 

 

To The The Eternal Lamp

 

                           Hey mighty Sun Lord!

                       A synonym of light and life,

                  You have forever been,

                  With your boundless empire,

                  And magnificent aura. 

                   

                 The  supreme lighthouse,

                Holding within your bosom,

                The entire spectrum of colours,

                As springhead of all rainbows.

             

              Yours is the light that illuminates,

              The  entire earth from end to end,

              And ensures the existence of life,

               By providing warmth ceaselessly

                 Who can be it but you,

                 That foils with its fiery rays,

                 The plans of insolent clouds,

                  Bent upon inundating the earth,

                     With incessant rains?

                It's not without reason or merit,

               That you have been adorned with,

               This most coveted godly status,

                 Acknowledged universally.

                 It's because you  are made,

                 By the Creator in His own image,

                Empowered with such features,

                For the well-being of His  creation,

                 Both animate and insensate. 

                 And you, His deputy, perform

                  The task tirelessly forever

                   Hence, aren't just loved 

                   But  adored religiously

                    As a visible godhead.