Tag Archives: poem

September

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Bunches of red, contrasting with greens of leaves.

Little flower umbrellas, sheltering insects from grieves.

Cool September breeze, giving respite from the heat.

Making flowers blossom, getting ready for Autumn greet.

Veteran leaves turning yellow, saying goodbyes ready to let go.

Magic of Autumn hiding within each fold, forests waiting to transform in motion slow.

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Monsoon 7

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Brilliant white surfaces when washed with rain water.

With just a hint of yellow to break the monotony.

Facing ,turning towards the Sun.

Soaking up the warmth after a wet humid spree.

Dragon fly resting peacefully, unaware of the beauty around it.

Green leaves, waiting for their turn to take center stage.

Morning Stroll 3

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The sky burst open like a volcano, spewing  lava in all directions, spreading, flowing like river of death. Consuming everything in its wake and its path.

It burst open like a heart, broken  into a million pieces, bleeding pain. Consuming the one whose was broken.

It’s just a way of looking at things,

for the sky exploded with warm gentle sunlight, spreading, flowing like river of life. Reviving everything in its wake and its path.

It exploded like a heart, into a million pieces, with joy that could’nt be contained inside anymore. Revitalizing, disburdning, whose burst.

It’s just a way of looking at things,

For even if it were lava, time turns the fields of destruction into most fertile lands.

For even if the heart were broken, time gives ample opportunities to heal and repair, turning it into flourishing abode.

It’s just a way of looking at things.

Morning Stroll 2

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Amber

A huge amber in the making, fossilized resin with tree inside.

Tree resembling a twig, a leaf, branches resembling veins dried.

Precious gemstone waiting to be formed, valued priceless.

Adorning heirlooms of memories, to be passed on to generations.

But only the resin being the golden orange sunlight, but only the amber our world.

The heirloom a morning cherished and saved, in the locker of our hearts impearled.

 

Strokes of Nature

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Strokes of Nature

 

The wind swirls the clouds in the sky like master strokes of an artist.

The trees reach up the sky to catch the candy floss in the making.

Gray hair of a lady blowing in the air.

Chiffon of a bride trailing behind her.

Waves in the sky, ocean upside down.

The beauty of nature is surely unbound.

Gold in the Ganges

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A friend of mine, while visiting Varanasi, was posting photos on Instagram.She was telling many stories through her pictures. I happened to borrow  one of her stories and a picture.

Little girl always drew rivers, with Sun rising in the East.

She drew boats sailing, fishermen rowing, not worried in the least.

Painted pictures but by imagination, used reds and yellows.

Blues of the water, boats always black, in the shadows.

Grew up, restless, looking for calm.

Travel seemed to her like balm.

Wanderlust pulling and pushing.

Mighty rivers always calling, inviting.

So..which legend to cruise on, better than the Ganges?

Capturing childhood paintings in real life,

with strokes of melted gold in the Ganges.

fb_20161110_09_16_10_saved_picture-3.                                                  Photo Credits Go To Ruchira Asthana

Morning by the lake

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Sheet of water with depths unknown.

Thousands of secrets in its core.

High mountains surrounding, in eerie calm.

Holding the water,as if, in their palm.

Trees standing guard, erect in a line.

On the banks of the lake divine.

Sunrays peeping from behind the cloud.

Waiting for Sunshine to explode.

New hope, new day.

Fresh start, fresh ways.