Empty Shells-A Poem

 

Empty shells of buildings, once Homes, with

Beating hearts, gape across a debris-strewn wasteland.

A cooked breakfast lies forlorn on plates, half-finished,

Half-empty cups  of tea waiting to be emptied

Evidence of a hasty exodus, people fleeing a pestilence.

Unfortunately, this is not a pandemic of germs and

Viruses but, rather,  something worse. It is the  madness of

Men who strive for dominance over others, of

Selfishness and greed, and hate and exclusion,

Killing innocence hopes and aspirations of the innocent.

An exodus of massive proportions takes place as whole towns are

Laid to waste, empty, blackened windows gaze at uncertain futures.

Gutted cities, smoke-filled skies replace once-thriving cities

That once hosted thriving communities of people, all destroyed

By those seized by a fit of madness!If only it were a bad dream.

Across the horizon, a deadly tempest sweeps across continents,

Like never seen before! Driven by pride, madness and greed,

It strives to feed on pity love, compassion, hope and kindness.

It spares none, lovers, mothers, children, men, old or

Young, no, not even the unborn, ready to arrive!

And slowly, but inexorably a pestilence sweeps across continents

Feeding on apathy, hatred and insensitivity in a world divided.

Those who watch from far away, with grins on their faces,

Waiting to pounce wearing smiles on their greedy faces.

Do they know they will themselves be consumed by the fire?

Empty shells of buildings, once Homes, with beating

Hearts, gape across a debris-strewn wasteland. An unfinished

Breakfast lies forlorn on plates, tea cups half-finished

Of tea waiting to be drunk, signs of a hasty exodus!

And all this while all this time the storm draws closer.

Homes are like shelters for souls and beating hearts,

Repositories of warmth and love, where dreams are nurtured,

Hearths and hopes kindled. But they are destroyed

Without a thought, they become empty shells. The machines

Of war are unleashed to rob humanity of its soul and spirit.

Burnt-out cities, smoking skies, upturned cars on

Debris-strewn streets become a wasteland of hell, symbols

Of human suffering brought about by pride and greed.

Wealthy cities, proud buildings, and gardens laid to seed.

This is a pestilence that spares none, trees, birds or animals!

Alas! Who are we to play the devil's role, unless

We have lost control of our senses? We have

Allowed the pestilence of madness to rob us of

Our ability to love and forgive others, and to be kind.

Unfortunately, those with power have turned into monsters!

And even as the whole world watches mutely at the fate

Of thousand others laid to waste in another place, little do

They know that even they will be sucked into the storm

Of pain, hatred, apathy and grief. Fools close their eyes

When approached by danger like pigeons before a cat.

Susurration-A Poem

The sky burns above,

Pin-pricks of jewels glitter in the 

Velvet spread, even as

The camp does sleep!

On the ground darkness 

Does prevail, shrouding everything

In unexpected latency.

I feel a presence.

The sky burns above, a

Meteor flashes past, a brief

Streak of brightness, disappearing

 In a blink, even as they sleep!

I feel a presence as I

Walk around, the darkness hiding.

What might be out there? 

So I decide to return.

While the world does sleep,

 The moths do rest, the sky does glow,

The moths do rest. The sky speaks

Of worlds out there.

I feel a presence in the

Velvet cloak that covers the ground even

As the stars do glow. I decide

To return to my restful sleep.

But something stops me

From returning, a thrill a tremor, that draws

Me on. I shiver as I look once more

At a star-studded sky!

And the world does sleep,

Oblivious of the fiery action unfolding 

Above, a magic moment lost to

Those that snore and toss!

A Secondary School Classroom in a Posh Slum - A Poem

They flock into the classroom bedraggled and lost,

Clothes that are slept in, pyjamas and tee-shirts

Crumpled and crushed. Their jaws movie in unison 

As they chump on chewing gum, the flavour too 

Valuable to discard. The privileged few they are,

A generation pampered and spoiled by pelf and wealth.

After a class that starts so sure, a few moments later, they

Cry for help. They find the lessons unfair to bear, that calls

On them to focus on things so vague. Alas! What was so

Clear became so vague even as they try to drag their minds

From a party so cool! The music echoes in their mind till now.

They lack the strength to focus on things so sure, minds so

Fogged by party so late - the gum they chew would hide

The  food they ate. They lack the time to brush their teeth! 

Their faces do bear the brunt of night so late, to wash their

Faces would rob them of kisses to share. Thus they gossip 

Of night so late, even as the lesson does pace.

Of late night conquests they' d rather share,  than answer the

Questions that for lessons do matter. Alas to come school 

Would only mean, to share  exploits of night so late. And as

They open their tiffins to eat, smells of stale ham and rancid

Cheese does waft, food so bad minds to stall, all in a class that

The privileged could have. Spoiled children do waste their time,

They swim in scent so sharp, even as they gossip of

Late nights conquests that drowned their share. Of

Adventure so bold they cast about, for gleanings in

Class to take, and even as those do learn, to spoil

The lives of those who cared. And so the noise does

Increase for sure, a class that descends into chaos for sure!

 If only they'd the hunger to learn,

I'd be rewarded for calling them to care, my throat does rasp

From pleading for calm. Alas! I call aloud in vain! And so they flirt

With one another e'en as time does fly, and as the boards so

Near do loom, in panic to washroom do flee! And in the

Corridors do measure their pace, if only someone to share.

If money can buy success and love, who cares a hoot

For exams to boot! If only they'd know the  world so real

Where death doth defy dime of gold, and love does ditch

Pride and swagger. If only they'd burst their bubbles asunder,

My hat I'd lift to greet the thunder. Tear o tear walls asunder,

That hide from them the world of wonder.

Take them out to learn to fall but rise,  despair to hope

  Turn bitter to sweet and grief to joy! Let them see streams so

Clear, trees so green, fruits so ripe, and birds so bright.

Tear, o tear, walls that hide a world so rich from those who

Dream of tin-can worlds, with love so fake and food so stale!

If only they'd look at the real world, to live a hope a star to shine.

Alas! They loll and play, slouch and grouch, meet and

Greet - friends parted an hour or less. They are Kings 

And Queens of fantasy world who rule the roost and

Order the boot. Unlucky heirs of pride and vanity, they

 Rush to unburden the food that so late at night they ate,

Washroom meeting ground does make for minds that drift.

The creme de la creme studying in a secondary school

Classroom in a posh slum, alas, know naught of the world out there! 

Of manners or etiquettes and deportment they know naught, but 

Chew on gum and talk so loud, as they share their exploits to all. 

The food they ate, the drink they had, the trip they made

 Is what they share, of lesson who cares, when a party is nigh!

An Autumn Song-A Poem

A honey bee buzzes across a sea of marigold flowers

Settling on some, to fill money bags full of golden nectar,

Even as it comes across butterflies, and moths that share

The bounty of the golden season, stocking up for days

Cold coming up ahead. 

The scents do overwhelm one and all in an

Intoxication that overwhelms the whole world

A satiation that brings with it a welcome cloud

Of drowsiness and golden dreams that cold days can

Help tide cold days ahead.

The day fills with buzzing sounds of zesty bees,

Colourful butterflies flit around, moths and flies sing,

Choruses that cricket's scary song to silence does bring.

The Nights do fill with a soothing balm of sweet, dreams

The coming cold to keep at bay!

The autumn day is warm and pleasant, warm tones

Of gold and orange fight for a claim, the yellow honey bees

Fly around busily with their money bags filled with honey,

The marigold and the sunflower await their guests,

Even as cold starts to lick the day!

A sudden blast of ice shocks the day, moths and bees

Pause awhile, marigold and rose  nod their heads, in 

A frenzy the hornet arrives driving all insects into action, 

To collect nectar and food before the winter their goal!

The approaching cold awaits its turn.

Urban Kingfisher-A Poem

She perches on a power line looking into the distance. All

She sees are concrete structures and scurrying men-ants.

Of the pond that she once fished in, nothing remains. In its

Place rises a shopping mall thronged by aimless men and

Women who don't know what to do with their money.Alas!

Scraps of bread and rotting meat they've thrown in the bins

Have replaced the fish she and her kind once had caught.

Of her friends and family, a few remain. They were once a

Band of spirited Kingfishers, who'd race one another to see

How many fish each could scoop out of the water. Alas! They

  Are reduced to scavenging from trash-cans, all them, a proud

Army of kingfishers reduced into a group of stragglers lingering

On in life, hunger writ large in bulging eyes, on a lookout for a

A rat, a change, from the rancid scraps they find in trash-cans.

A once proud army of hunters is now a band of scavengers,

The bright colours of their feathers dulled by the grey smoke

That covers the town of concrete blocks. Cheated of their homes,

Beaten but not defeated, these kingfishers eke out an existence 

That would put to shame those greedy men that robbed them of

Their Home but then, they don't have hearts, for they only count

Cash in hand they don't even see the Kingfisher on the line!

And thus is born the Urban Kingfisher, a hardy breed of birds

That've made towns and cities their homes. They live lives they

Never meant to live, nest in empty buildings, the bright flash of

Their wings a pleasant surprise in a dusty smoked out landscape 

Of greys and blacks (the reigning shadows). She gazes out into

The distance and dreams of a pond she once fished in and her

Friends raced to grab a lusty fish in her beak as a trophy for all.

A Song For A Purple Heron - A Poem

A cool breeze ruffles yellow leaves of grass even

As a Purple Heron stands silent, unmoving, waiting,

An unmoving form, merging into the background,

A curved neck dipping into the horizon, peeping, 

Peering into the distance, waiting, waiting for food.

He offers A lesson in the stillness of patience, and

 Dominates the landscape with his presence, at least

The knowing few who have an eye for the unusual.

The connect is there, a moment of stillness, a  kind

Of communion twixt two souls, seekers of secrets.

I move away leaving him to his silent

 Meditation, retreating the way I came,

Softly, silently,quietly,giving him back his

His sacred space, two travellers lost in their

 Thoughts. I retreat - leaving, simply -

Daren't disturb someone so important!

And as I sit back to think of what I saw, I wonder

What his thoughts were, the secrets of life, or fish

  For breakfast (for both are too slippery to catch).

The Purple Heron is so valuable a teacher, few

Like him might be found that facilitate true learning.

Lessons we learn from so many but few would

Matter, and fewer teachers we find that teach us

Lessons of life - to respect nature, merge with grass

And weeds as inconspicuously as possible, a life

Scented with fragrance of patience, respect & harmony.

But, alas! Few would know of the breeze that 

Blows, nor of Purple Heron that sits so quietly,

Waiting for the right moment. Alas, know they only

Of tinned air and the bottled joys of virtual games.

What of nature would they know, nor of its teacher?

We live in a world of tailor made solutions, where

With flick of switches scents would flow, wind blow

At voice's whispered command, but little we know

Of paradise so rich, and teachers so keen, even

As we shut ourselves in dingy cells that do stink!

Mother Nature so less we know as we shut us away

 From the sweet and healing breeze, sounds that

Soothe,music the soul to calm. If only we'd step out

The Purple Heron to see, of patience to learn, respect

To gain, a blessed life to live, sweet dreams to see. 

A Busy Crow-Pheasant (thought I'd not seen it!) A Poem

I saw a busy Crow Pheasant that peeped

At me from behind a bush! It wanted to

Get a piece of fish from the pond.

It dived and hopped, peeped and skipped,

And thought, I’d not seen it - the busybody

That would get a fish from the pond!

It thought I’d not seen it, and when I turned

To it with my camera, it launched itself into

The air, the busybody that’d get the fish!

I saw a busy Crow-Pheasant that skipped,

Hopped, bounced and peeped at me from behind

A bush as it went for a piece of fish from the pond!

The Crow Pheasant thought it had fooled me,

But I’d seen it all, the busybody that went for

The fish from the pond and thought I’d not seen it!

Lessons for Life - A Poem

The corridors echo not with footsteps but

With whispers, faint-ephemeral, tenuous,

People long gone, not dead but gone out 

Of time, detractors, mockers and schemers.

One that played a game of intrigue and

Laughed behind backs, in turn tasting his

Own defeat, a farewell ending in ignominy

Told to get out of what was once his office!

Another had a throne and kingdom, but

Was greedy for favours & commissions 

 Toppled after the  inquisition forced him

To flee  lest  shame be heaped on him

A doctor he was, not a healer of wounded

Souls, but a scourge, to strike terror into

Kindred men, reduced into a sprite, pride

Long gone, holding on to life with medicines.

She was full of art, to make fun of others was

Her strength clever schemer, mistress of

Malice . Toxic doses she fed, to remove all

Opposition was her forte e'en as she smiled.

But, alas, all that remains are empty echoes,faint

 In the corridor, of those that once were, but exist

No longer, alive, but gone out of time, dim shadows,

Faded tendrils of memory, ephemeral and tenuous!

It saddens to wake, remember those that longer exist.

Surely they made life so more exciting even as they

Plotted and schemed to achieve their goals. I once

Knew them, wonder how they might be if they were.

All that remains of them are echoes in the corridors

Of time, whispers that echo, faint, ephemeral, toxicity

Dulled by time, long past, faded memories, of those

That plotted and planned, schemers and detractors!

Herein lies a tribute to all the detractors, toxic people,

Those that made one strong, teachers of the best kind,

Who In their enthusiasm built up character, grit,and 

Patience,  lessons for life that built character for all!

In Search of You, a poem

Dawn, A Poem

Bluster-A Poem

 You set to flush me

Out of my lair with water,

But then I waited.

I waited quietly

In the depths of my home,

Waiting for you.

Alas! the water,

Doused my flame, forced

Me into the open.

You fear me not,

And dare to stare at me,

An eye to eye!

You just wait!

Cousin's is bigger than me,

Lessons will be taught.

Tarry Awhile!

Silver Dawn-A Poem

Stray fingers stretch into the sky, steel-skeleton structures,

Seeking warmth from the rising orb, fog and mist obscure

The morning air, and none to greet the rising sun! For

Where are they that  would stride or jog for cure or health

 In the morning air, but now hide from the Silver Dawn

That greets none but cold steel fingers of cell-phone towers?

The fresh air, the chirruping birds, the wetlands and forests

Are all gone like a dream rudely awakened, by the chink of

Golden, promises of development and progress! Alas! What

Have we done to our forests, and wetlands and fresh air?

Sold them out to corrupt officials and sick politicians who'd

Only want to line their own pockets despite their children's health!

The sun does rise in the morning, but none do greet it, people
Remain indoors, cowering beneath quilts and blankets breathing
Artificial, purified air, bottled air, tailor-made air, smelling of citrus
Fruits, or exotic flowers, that none do find in real life! A few, ashamed
To step outdoors for fear of being lynched for destroying the world cower
Indoors.  And all this while, the glorious sun does rise to greet none but:

Steel skeleton structures seeking warmth from the rising orb!

Alas! Those greedy officials and selfish politicians did sell off all our
Clean air and fresh water, and promises were thrown into the winds, in
The name of development, all they left us are concrete and steel atrocities
In the name of art, for development without care, is not but willful destruction Of resources! But then who'd sell air-purifiers and water-purifiers if not for
A Silver Dawn? They say it's good to have Silver Dawn to line the pockets of few!

Earth's Song - A Poem

I

You smother her in toxic gases, your lover, dump

Garbage on her, (for a crown) and go asking for more!

You cut down her tresses, denude her head of green

 Luxuriant growth, turning it into a bald, burnt desert!

You come  ask, for more, greed doesn't end,

Her glaciers shrink, oceans rise, people flee.

You pillage her oceans for fish and land for minerals, and

After you're done, you leave a wasteland and cesspool.

You come again, asking for more, greed doesn't 

 End even while she's in pain  and not so well!

II

Rivers dry but oceans do rise, a great thirst

Does parch the throats of man and beast !

Great clouds of smoky and dust do float in the air

 But of rain there's still no sign! Yet you ask for more!

She cries out in pain, begging for help, but alas,

To earn a few more petro-dollars suits you more!

So do greedy corporates pressing for mega bucks,

Drill for more oil, though it  creates clouds of smoke!

Unfortunately, she does gasp for breath your mother, e'en

As you fight for your money, burn and turn her into dust!

III

A rainbow is seen, on the horizon, while sweet showers 

Bathe and cool her, drive away fevers that burn like fires.

She revives, and lovers celebrate new life, life without

Smoke, pollution, pain or sadness! A child cries out her love!

A sweet scent of spring wafts upon the surface, it drives

Away pungent smells of burnt lives, and scorched dreams!

Yes there is still hope, if only you'd wake up and mend your

Ways! Leave your chair and walk the paths strewn with leaves.

There she waits to embrace you engulf you with her love,

One who once lay sick, mother, lover, angel, or fairy!

IV

Sweetly sings the bard, his Earth's song, and the winds do stop

To listen to him sing of love and romance, of times long past!

He sings of  oceans which teemed with whales, and fish aplenty

Crystal clear streams that rushed to quench the thirsty.

Tell me there's still hope, to heal the Earth, clean the Oceans,

Plant the forests, and sprout the gardens - for lovers to rest!

Sweetly sings he, of her, whom he once loved but no more

Is, sweet princess, whose tinkling feet did range the green.

Thus, while the world does pause to hear the song, a scream does

Rent the sky apart, 'Oh wherefore hast thou done this to me, li'l one?'

The Cuckoo's Song - Random Musings

In the early morning rays of the rising sun sings a cuckoo, in the branches

Of a tree, "Koo-oo-ah, koo-oo-ah," which translated would mean,

"Hear me all, hear me all," but none do stop to listen

To her cry out the message of spring, of promise of

Mangoes ripe, of forthcoming feasts of fruits and

Juice, of spices and scents so rich and heady!

And as men and women  hurry to tasks so real,

None do hear the Cuckoo's sing, nor do they look at

At the magic of rising sun! All they see are paving stones,

 Boss's bitter face, a salvo of barbed arrows as bitter as death! Thus,

Do they move on with a mind ahead (even as the Cuckoo calls out to them

 With a song of hope and joy) as they rush away to greet the day and meet their fate.

On and on she sings, increasing her pitch and anger, heedlessly singing into the approaching

 Day, even as the noise of crowds and cars, drown her song. "For God's sake, listen as I sing a song for
 You, you who head for a life of toil, pause a while, hear onesing of nectar sweet, and mangoes ripe!" 
But alas! The world would move with a mind of its own, a world of men and women,
Children, lovers, and enemies deaf to all intent!

She sings  sweetly, songs of promise,, of gifts, and joy,

Songs that grow desperate with the passing of time, trills and frills

Lost on deaf - dead ears, feet that move of  own accord, to the regular beat of a

 Mechanical monster that drowns sweet songs with  loud grunts and squeaks, thumps, bangs

And groans - giant cogs that move, as the day wakes up to another round of grunge! On and on
She sings, desperate Cuckoo, increasing her pitch and tone, even as the world passes by heedlessly!

Koo-ah, koo, hear me all you who move away with restless minds, hear you not my song of
Fruits so full, and mangoes so rare, to quench your thirst of summer heat? Smell you not,
The scents so rich, colours so bright, yellows and reds, orange and green, hiding
A flesh so rare. Oh to sink my teeth into the bounty so rich, of nature so
Generous, to drink of nectar that feeds the gods!

Sleeping Under The Star Studded Sky

I lay myself inside a sleeping bag out in the open,

Gazing at a star studded sky, a roof with all the lights on.

Above me, the Milky Way with her dusting of stars stretched on!

The Big Dipper brimming with a serving of magic potion

Of wonder and miracles ready to serve all and one.

I gathered my sleeping bag around me as I snuggled against 

The cold but peeped at the heavens above as they danced past.

The constellations above did march, e'en as the night wind did twist

And turn, the merry fire crackled and a flame streaked past,

Even as our guides added wood to make it last!

I woke up in the middle of the night and saw that all did sleep,

Snuggled close to each other lest the bad wolf did take a peep

At them. But then heard I also the snoring of those in deep sleep!

And even as the fire burned bright and loud, the twinkling lights did peep

At those that slept, a night bejewelled with a dusting of lights so deep!

And the night did speak in a whisper so soft, "Why wake when they

Do sleep?" And I answered in a voice not so sure even as they

Did snore, "To find the mystery of what drives a machine so well!"

A tremulous  voice then whispered, "Well pick up your bags and follow

Me to the heavens that blaze for you!" But I covered myself for I'd not follow!

I borrowed deeper  into my bag against the chill and voices

Only to wake an hour later, to see the firmament looking, down,whispers

Floating down, caressing, with smiles so deep that mocked my fear

Even as the stars did twinkle with smiles so broad that I did laugh at my

Friends who tossed and snored even as complex tune played in the sky!

The fire was lit anon by those who woke while others

Did sleep, partaking in a snoring match that shamed the stars.

That danced their divine steps across the dark canvass, a message

For those that would wake up and observe, but then perhaps,

They were tired and lost to a celestial tune playing above!  

And as sparks from the fire did ascend the night sky so to greet

The morn, they spoke of the wind that blows, and the stream that flows fleet

 Footed, tinkling like bells down the slopes, of  all things  wild, Strawberries 

  We had eaten on the way up sweet and rich, munching on the fresh pine needles

 To quench our thirst, sour a rich fare, all laid for us!

Thus, when sol did turn the dark into light, bathing the hills and trees

With warmth and love, my friends the stars had gone! And there before me was

 A golden Dawn, golden leaves,golden trees, golden sky for so enriched was 

I  that everything I touched turned golden - while my friends did sleep,

Tossing, turning, snoring and smiling at jokes that  through tents did peep!

Looking at the golden light bathing the ground, We wondered how lucky

We had been to be gifted with so much fortune, to be bathed by the Lord's

Golden light, His mercy smiled upon us from stars that danced in the firmament,

And all my friends did bask in the Glory of the Golden light, so what

If they slept, surely they too were the recipients of the golden gift, the Lord's own!