Monday, May 16, 2011

In a book, a rose I see

Darkened with time
Crisped like a perfect rhyme
In a book, a rose I see
Nectar of which fed many a bee
An emblem of love
Or forgotten, all and above
Now powdered and dried
Perhaps a sign of someone who sighed
Lying dead betwixt the words
Spreading its lifeless petals as wings of birds
In a book, a rose I see
That in past; bloomed with freshness
Adorning the garden; adding to its richness
Why not an object of embellishment?
Why without care and nourishment?
In a book, a rose I see
Now hidden and unremembered
As if its owner has slumbered
‘ts buried now -
in the book, this rose that I see

Thursday, May 12, 2011

How I wish I were a Butterfly


With brightly pigmented wings
Patterns of polka and rings
Delicate and alluring
From bloom to bloom ambling

Soaring high and low
To the gardens I bow
Resting on flowers
Imbued with the heavenly showers

Feeding on nectar
The only way to nurture
Discernible, fluttering flight
Not in dark, but daylight

Acquainted with every blossom
Beauty and pleasure for many some
Yesterday a caterpillar, today a butterfly
Weather and resentment to defy

Subject of literary art
Brooch and jewel to look smart
In freedom and delight I would live
Short, but as beautiful, if I may strive

Sunday, May 8, 2011

A Desert Turns into a Garden


Arid and torrid
Signifying hopelessness and failure
The desert, that lies in a corner

Half dead and wearied its inhabitants
Men, peasants and infants
Barren is its land
In sight is none, save the sand

No travelers tread its way
As thorns are likely to sway
Oh! What dismay!
Every step moving astray

The beacon eclipsed of yore
Buried near the shore

The sun shines with all its might
But, lacking in its light
Evil holds its roots;
Abundance of loots

Today has rained after years
Every drop from sky sheers
And so does the parched desert cheers

Its sand turns into rose petals –
Flowing with the breeze
Summer turns into spring -
And people bow with ease

Look! The desert has turned into a garden
Cries are now cheers
Infertile desert now a joyful Eden

Contributors

My photo
Everyone needs a place in their life where they can go to escape the demands of family and work, enjoy some adult time and be free from the daily grind. Psychologists call it ‘the third space’ because most people spend the majority of their lives in two places – home and work. A third space provides a haven from these places of responsibility, where we can chill out and indulge our leisure interests. For me, my third space is my blog. It is without doubt the most important part of my world.

Somewhere faraway; As I sit to feel the silence, My thoughts are carried away by THE WHISPERS OF MY HEART!!

Monday, May 16, 2011

In a book, a rose I see

Darkened with time
Crisped like a perfect rhyme
In a book, a rose I see
Nectar of which fed many a bee
An emblem of love
Or forgotten, all and above
Now powdered and dried
Perhaps a sign of someone who sighed
Lying dead betwixt the words
Spreading its lifeless petals as wings of birds
In a book, a rose I see
That in past; bloomed with freshness
Adorning the garden; adding to its richness
Why not an object of embellishment?
Why without care and nourishment?
In a book, a rose I see
Now hidden and unremembered
As if its owner has slumbered
‘ts buried now -
in the book, this rose that I see

Thursday, May 12, 2011

How I wish I were a Butterfly


With brightly pigmented wings
Patterns of polka and rings
Delicate and alluring
From bloom to bloom ambling

Soaring high and low
To the gardens I bow
Resting on flowers
Imbued with the heavenly showers

Feeding on nectar
The only way to nurture
Discernible, fluttering flight
Not in dark, but daylight

Acquainted with every blossom
Beauty and pleasure for many some
Yesterday a caterpillar, today a butterfly
Weather and resentment to defy

Subject of literary art
Brooch and jewel to look smart
In freedom and delight I would live
Short, but as beautiful, if I may strive

Sunday, May 8, 2011

A Desert Turns into a Garden


Arid and torrid
Signifying hopelessness and failure
The desert, that lies in a corner

Half dead and wearied its inhabitants
Men, peasants and infants
Barren is its land
In sight is none, save the sand

No travelers tread its way
As thorns are likely to sway
Oh! What dismay!
Every step moving astray

The beacon eclipsed of yore
Buried near the shore

The sun shines with all its might
But, lacking in its light
Evil holds its roots;
Abundance of loots

Today has rained after years
Every drop from sky sheers
And so does the parched desert cheers

Its sand turns into rose petals –
Flowing with the breeze
Summer turns into spring -
And people bow with ease

Look! The desert has turned into a garden
Cries are now cheers
Infertile desert now a joyful Eden

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