The mendicant

The mendicant


Every day,I raise my arms in prayer

To gather my fistful of sky

All that I remembered to be grateful for



Yet I return, each time with my begging bowl

Asking , grasping , pleading for just a little more



And You in your infinite wisdom , mercy

Fill it with the nectar of your love

That it may show the skies, the moon, stars

All that your love touches



I gather them greedily in my cupped hands

But they slip through my fingers

Leaving me empty



Until , I set down the bowl

In it's still depths

See my own reflection

To learn I am already blessed

With all I will ever need,

Your love.




--shubha

It is how we ride, not fall

It is how we ride, not fall

It is how we ride , not fall
We know the end that awaits all

But it is not the end that is to bear
But how we journeyed our way there

And this end , is it really a end of all that be
Our merely a transformation, to reality?

Meanwhile let us journey, gently
Savor the breeze , be grateful to the tree

So when we meet our reckoning hour
We have less to regret , more we have showered

And let our transformation be for gladness
Leave a few rustling songs to wipe away another's sadness

--shubha

Peanut tales

Peanut tales


Peanut shells litter the table

From my fogged memory,cable

A love so old , so rooted , stable

Of walks with grandpa, aged but able

With peanuts,stories, talks , my excited babble

Warmed by love only grandparents,enable.



--shubha

P.S. This poem was in response to a the propmt words fog/peanuts/love on a poetry group, . Happy to share this poem was accorded first place in this friendly competition

Memories of winter

Memories of winter


Curling mists of white,shivering mornings

Warm memories of past winters, brings


Of five more stolen minutes of half drowsiness

Of the magic of suspended reality under the covers


Of chill that grew vine-like around you

Of warm turmeric milk, sweetened by laughter anew


Of sweaters , socks , woolly hugs , a few

Of chattering teeth , red noses, chapped lips too


Of Nights' fog gathering into itself pleasant evenings

Oh! The memories, coming of winter brings.



--shubha


P.S. this poem that came to me in response to a prompt, winter memories on a poetry group.

Cold memories

Cold memories


With stinging sharpness

Cold brings back memories of you

Leaches from my frozen lips, heart

Warmth, moisture, last of my resolve

Squirreled away for these long, cold winters

Leaving behind tears in stung eyes



And yet , as I let go these memories

Accept their past tense

Somewhere deep within flares gratitude

For their presence, for their having been

To warm my heart , insulate

Against the bitter cold loneliness of today.



--shubha

P.S. this poem came to me in response to a prompt, winter memories on a poetry group