Sylvan paradise

Sylvan paradise

I carried a heart ,at small criticism singed and burnt,

Filled with burning discontent at real and imagined hurt,

Under the cool , gray skies to the trail today,

To let the full river wash it away,

And as I stepped onto this spring wonderland , wooded way,

Hue upon hue of green soothed my eyes,

And my disquiet left without any lingering goodbyes,

I returned home rejuvenated , full of hope, free of lies,

Much like the green sylvan paradise.

--shubha

Two trains

Two trains

Two trains from a station departed, each with its' own load,
To its' respective destinations, what different stories it told,
One filled with children, whose parents sent them for the hope of a brighter future,
Where under the ominous clouds of war, no longer a dream of them growing up , they could nurture,
The other filled with cold blooded efficiency, full of suffering souls,sore,
By a wayward minority that deemed them human no more,
One filled by the efforts of a sole man, who tried to do all that he could,
To save the children from a cruel fate, fueled by the sense of brotherhood,
The other filled by the followers of a madman,
Whose stories of superiority and exclusivity ran,
Turned the morality of a wracked continent ,wan,
To slaughter houses, deemed concentration camps
How quickly humanity slides down  the morality ramp,
One that trundled to hope and life,
Not without pain,loss or strife,
But in whose deliverance ,humanity gained a new life,
The other to those empty shells that stand as a stark reminder,
That the downfall of humanity begins, with the illusion of "the other".

--shubha

[P.S. This poem came to me after watching an episode about an Englishman, Sir Nicholas Winton who saved 669 Jewish children from Czechoslovakia by sending them by train to adoptive families in  England. Two years later, Jews from Czechoslovakia were sent to Auschwitz in different kind of trains]

Private conversations

Private conversations

If I breathe my hopes and desires,

Would they mingle with your breath to gain new life?

Or will they just be the caress of the night breeze on your warm brow?

If I hum the song of my heart in your ears,

Would it mingle with your heartbeat,to make new melodies?

Or will it just be, tonight's lullaby?

If I tell you of my many dreams,

Would it become ours?

Or will it be tonight's fantastical bedtime story ?

Or by it's very nature, can it be,

That these private conversations,

Are the ones I must have ,only with me?

--shubha

Passersby

Passersby

Disjointed thoughts like white cloud wisps drift,

Across a tired mind, 

Of it, yet not,

Passersby intent on their own journey.

--shubha

Earth day pledge

Earth day pledge

Elusive has been the search for one such as you,
Abounding in water and life as you do,
Rain forests, deserts, mountains, plateaus, oceans too
Teeming with diverse life adorn you,
Having a envelope of life giving air, o planet blue,
Earth, our mother that bears our burden and sustains all ,anew,
On this token day of remembering what you are due,
We pledge to love, honor and cherish you.

--shubha

Mirror

Mirror

Magical is it's draw,
Images of self , in it, I saw,
Reflected in all its detail true,
Reality does it show of you or the mask?
Obfuscation of the real you, is that its' task?
Restrict your view ,to this limited identity, tighten,

Mirror, that mysterious teacher , both beguiles and brightens,
And by reflecting our own illusions, enlightens.

--shubha

Hope

Hope
Hope unfurls as pink blossoms on bare boughs,
A reminder, that all, begins and ends in love,
It sways as delicate leaves in yellow-green,
A wisp of a promise, that things may be better than they have been,
It pushes up as weeds determinedly among flagstones,
A surprising reminder of life, where none was known,
Holds up ramshackle barns as the ivy that clings,
Hope, the message of a resurgent spring.

--shubha

Life of a metropolis

Life of a metropolis

Under the sickle moon, a few chosen stars,

In the seedy part of town, beer , dance bars,

In unknown acts of kindness by many,

In the religious fervor of the temple,church bells, azan calls timely,

In the delicious, overladen tables at restaurants ,

In the hunger, in the eyes of the people, not at the table, in these jaunts,

In the square lighted boxes of apartments,

In the tarpaulin covered shanty tents,

In pot hole ridden bumpy rides on yesterday's roads,

In the blaring horns at the chowk nodes,

In the speeding golden lights on the overpasses,

Pulsates, throbs the life of the metropolis.

--shubha

The Descent and Ascent

The Descent

I poked awake that sleeping monster of my mind, in its lair,asleep slack,

Slowly it's noxious ink spread all around to coat everything inky black,

Happiness floated away in sparkling bubbles and burst,

Carrying its' light of knowledge ,Reason fled,leaving me to thrist,

Hope clung as long as she could, like a stubborn barnacle,

Until the inky darkness engulfed her too, even her companionship, fickle,

Now all there is, is darkness,deep, velvety, still..,

And a mocking voice that tells me I am unloved,I hear it trill,

Because of my selfishness, my need to be loved,my greed,

That time is here,

To give up this one desire,all consuming need,

That there may be no more,

And neither the darkness, nor the light, touch me anymore.

The Ascent



As I stilled myself in the inky darkness, thinking I was done,

Hope left her post to attach to my shell and pry it open,

The light filtered in to slice the inky darkness and draw me out,

The lamp of knowledge held aloft by reason lit the route,

Upward , upward I floated ,

Happiness came to envelop me in her shimmering bubble coated,

Still upward , past reason ,past happiness too,

To the all enveloping light , that surrounded all, me anew,

As I reached that light ,merged, great calm descended, true,

I heard a soothing voice say,

I am the darkness , the light too,


I am you,

I am love

I am





--shubha

P.S. Happy to share that this poem was published in an anthology Resonance , brought together by a Facebook group, Poets,Artists Unplugged.

Starry graffiti

Starry graffiti

I awoke to the gentle sound of rattle,
And the fellow baby traveler's prattle,
Soft, gentle sounds,
To see the wondrous sight
The stars had graffitied the story of the heavens
On the inky dark wall of the sky,
While we our eyes shut tight,
Consumed in our own tiny worlds ,so close to the stars,
Turned a blind eye.

--shubha

What time is it?

What time is it?

What time is it you say ?
Time to get up start the day,
Time to brush your teeth,
Have your bath and be neat,
Time for breakfast, get ready for school,
Be ready in time for the bus or the car pool,
Time for arithmetic and reading,
Time for lunch, the daily feeding,
Time for recess and play
Time to return home , end of the school day,
What time is it,did you ask?
Why it is time for your tae Kwon do class,
Time for homework and for bed
I wish I had taken the time to say instead,
It is time to breathe, time to see
Time for you and me
Time to watch the light fade in the sunset scene
Time to count the stars, flat on our backs on the trampoline
To stop my long list of instructions ,hear your tales
Of wondrous pokemons, dinosaurs and fearsome gales
Yes time for you and time for me
Time for us , just time to be

--shubha 

Politician

Politician

The politician looked at his schedule and frowned,
All his time ,in this campaign was drowned
"What is this ? Why did you put me in a fix?
A joint appointment with the farmers and the industrialist,
Don't you know vote banks don't mix?
Reschedule them please,
Call them separately,
He told his secretary.

Next day the farmers group arrived, led by an activist,
The poor farmer trembled outside the door , stepping in seemed to resist.
Declared the activist
Here are some of the people whose livelihoods be wrecked
By this proposed dam project

No, No that cannot be allowed
Their lands cannot be swallowed
I know the importance of their contribution
Why even my slogan brings it to attention
Vote for me my good men and we will find a resolution
You will keep your lands and leave your children their due inheritance

Next day the industrialist arrived assured of welcome,
Handed over a briefcase , a token, to help with your campaign some,
Sir, you know the amount of revenue and jobs the plant will bring,
It needs the power from the dam if it is to be ready by next spring,
Unfortunately there are always those that impede progress,
But you can ,well see its necessity, in your farsightedness.

Of course, Of course, I see that indeed
With your support and blessing, we can make sure the opposition cedes,
If I can count on your vote , we can make it work for sure,
Perhaps a relocation package for the farmers, the industrialist ventured,
No , no need,They will find their way to the cities anyway, it would be an adventure.

Now ,the farmer and the industrialists' lawyer occasionally meet in court,
Where the trials are long and justice is short,
As the poor farmer watches his beloved parcel disintegrate to sand,
He cannot till it or water it for it is now  disputed land
The industrialist already scouring the neighborhood for other sites,
Where the local inhabitants cannot put up a court fight,

As for the politician , the only magic that he delivered,
Was the speed and alacrity with which his promises disappeared,
Now ,he has made a mighty political alliance with the prime ministers' set,
And has his sights set on joining the cabinet.

--shubha