Raas-Leela

Raas-Leela

It is but a fantastical,simple tale of lore
How Krishna multiplied to dance with Gopis, of yore

Of an enchanted night when they danced in self forgetful bliss
Wherever they turned , their beloved lord, could not miss

Of milkmaids, who by the dint of the devotion, simplicity
Transcended the delusion of plurality

And forgetting themselves , they saw the one, all around
How could it be otherwise , when naught, but Krishna, abounds

Through His divine dance of seeming plurality
He underscored the underlying oneness, unity

Yes, it is a simple, fantastical tale of lore
When Krishna danced with the Gopis of yore

--shubha

P.S.  A few lines that came to me in response to a prompt by the same name in a online poetry group.

Cloudy Drumroll

Cloudy drum roll

Dark clouds roll in
Rumbling drum roll
To announce the coming
Of the dark complexioned lord

The green earth rejoices
Sways in welcome
Dances as the Gopis did
Drunk on His love

The rain pours down
Like Meeras' yearning
For her chosen lord

Cleanses all the earth, my mind
Fills me with the divine music
Of the Flute player

With tiny steps
Come, step into my heart
And hold mine in your vast one
My Krishna !!

--shubha



P.S. For Janamashtmi

A Rakhi

A Rakhi 

Single thread binding
Holds together shared promise
Silken bonds of love

--shubha

P.S. On the occasion of Rakshabandhan, a festival to celebrate the bond between brother and sister. 

India

India

In uniting all under her loving embrace
New decade of freedom , new struggles, bravely face
Diversity of every religion, language, creed , grace
In God's loving sight , may she thrive, discord efface
A shining example of humanity, in every age, showcase


India, nation, of my birth , may you shine,new glories, trace

--shubha




P.S. On the occasion of the 70th anniversary of India's Independence Day .

The puddle

The puddle

With care the puddle collected
Each fleck of light reflected

To build its' own floating towers
Those citadels of office, power

Held on to its' truth , as it believed
It's being, purpose, accepted as revealed

Until cruel wheels of a passing cycle, as fate
Rent asunder this illusion, at a speed, great rate

And every collected drop , window, brick, flew
Momentary spray , dissipated as gray in blue

And so it is with every momentary truth we hold true,
Until we realize change is our truth, anew

That we are not the identities, we build, reflect
But a little bit more, than these illusions, suspect.


--shubha 

Crossing the bridge, twice - a story

Crossing the bridge, twice - a story

Don't cross your bridges before it comes

It started  as bawdy jokes, in jest
A separation between them and the rest
Was it the beginning of the end ?
Keep your head down, your business tend
Stick by your own,don't  let the insults get to you
Or parry them with your own, trouble brew
Don't worry your head, without reason, rhyme
Don't cross your bridges before its' time

Burning bridges

Then one day the dark clouds, rent all pretense ,asunder
Marauding mobs went about burning, to kill, plunder
Through the chaos , the stone bridge, proudly did stand
To help flee, now that they were strangers in their own land

Don't burn your bridges

They couldn't burn this one , of earth, stone
So many others were sacrificed,to our hate alone
The river swallowed the debris of the burning stacks
Drank all the hate , anger, piteous pleas ,to run black

Bridge the gap

Yet the bridge stretched stubbornly to hold both sides
Determined it seemed, this separation to  tide
Painfully stretching to connect those who had drifted apart
A mute question to the distance, division, in many a heart

Water under the bridge

Many cycles of death, rejuvenation it took to cleanse
The hatred, suspicion, wounds to heal , to shed pretense
Until, at last ,sense prevailed, to sign a peace treaty
And the bridge opened to both in mutual amity

A Bridge too far

As he hobbled across in great anticipation
Of what he may find of his home in trepidation
Home, home , home ? No longer did stand
Long gone, with time's shifting sands
He was a stranger in a strange land

Home. of his memory, lived only in his head
Bridges could not bridge time, years shed

Build bridges

Yet ,as he saw smiling young faces , cross the divide
He knew why the bridge spanned the tide
It could not return him to what had been
But could connect hearts to build futures, unseen


--shubha

P.S. In response to apicture prompt on an online poetry group

A duckling's dream

A duckling's dream

Through the reeds, a duckling, stared  in awe,
At this great, grand, gray bridge, he saw

Said he ,to his brothers , in delight
We could race under, won't it be a sight

It has arches for each and every one
We could swim under, won't it be fun

Enough wandering, came mamma duck's quack
Into the nest , be quick , do not slack

And remember when we swim tomorrow, a while
You will all follow me in a single file

So little duckling's plan, remained a dream,
There would be no races under the bridge, it seemed

But as they followed in a single file, mamma dear
How the children on the bridge, did applaud, cheer.


--shubha

P.S In response to picture prompt of a bridge on a online poetry group