Dyad, Reality Never

 

We smiled, dulcified with

Great display: the life song,

But alas! Eburine years passed,

Crony days ebbed, never to come again.

 

Crowned each other, thought

Two paths always go parallel,

But, we just tread side by side,

Only to slip away, at the opportunity first.

 

Blame not friend or thyself,

As we are 'friends at court',

It is a day, dawn to dusk;

We meet only to drift away.

 

Inevitable as it is, humans

Beat never the dust same;

All need own track,

Runs where nobody besides.

 

O man! Crib not about vaporous friendliness lost,

Never judge friendship by time,

Feeds it only on the present; future preys,

So, cherish only moments those.

Rhyme's Last Day

 

The year prepares to say bye,

Here comes the last day with a sigh:

'Pray I for the humanity's high',

Takes birth the 366th with a cry,

The dawn having a sunny try

Over the mist which lie

Silvery still around His 'eye',

Which struggle against the eyed sly.

O new rays upon facets awry,

Would'u make them diamonds? 'Ay'

Says the day's eye,

Oh! The eye from the sky,

Ponder over earthling's vie.

From the time gone by

Gods doth fly

On chariot rays, to lay by

Godhood and get terrestrial tie.

O Dawn, thou doth imply,

Pious start for all and I,

Say as thou a smiling 'hi'

To the love hungry; lover's eye,

And the obstacles face a 'why'

As thou hand over a gyve

For the fates dry.

Thy sunny camp; tight up a guy,

New delicacies thou fry

For the bellies where even the hunger die.

 

Day, thou handling a key,

To bring fatality to its knee.

Rhyme's First Day

 

Today is the 1st of January,

The day as if in love,

Black-silvery, it says sorry

To the cloud-veiled sun's shove.

 

A new day with a new aurora,

Week new with new lyre,

20th gone, now 21st opera,

And millennium new with aurum-aureola.

 

Yes! New Year's first day

With its rainy ray.

Droplets with winy chorus falling,

Ebriated, chilly air goes sailing.

 

And we get an excited shiver,

Like a river

In a cold rainy vale;— 

New drink for humanity's hail.

 

Trees dance to a moderate gale,

Leaves rustle to rainy tune,

Pouring as destiny's boon—

A new day too in some solitary dale.

 

The cold, wet new day,

Still with an aeonic silvery new ray,

Flaura fauna make hay,

Like a wave enters a new bay.

Ode to an Immortal Girl

 

What can death do to thee?

Thou, who’s enlightened at this little age,

And approach it with a glee,

After such blessed souls death hast a futile chase.

 

For, people like thou only play with it,

Lay it worthless by fearing it not,

Only by people like thou it gets hit,

Immortal flowers, while, never get shot.

 

O thou, who makest time meaningless

By living infinitely in its every unit!

Instant any can’t complain chancelessness,

Endless is thy journey without limit!

 

If a single instant can claim immortality,

And goodness pride in its agelessness,

Then thou but do them a duty,

Take them so far without any shiftiness.

 

Souls like thou are creator’s manifestations,–

Harmony-fairy with its lullaby,

And a soothing voice to hurried steps to destinations,

How can we separate God from its baby?

 

Happily go, O angel, to that finest

Destination amidst heavens,

For the death will always fail in its quest,

As thou personify His sermons.

A Flower in a Hermetically Sealed Prison

 

O destiny, why thou create flowers?

Why with thy destitutory powers

Thou hide thy sibilant voice?

Why the ultimate lot feigns as a choice?

 

O fate, why thy appointed lot

Comes with a lacy and gauzy coat?

Swinish hiss posing as a sing-song,

To undo and annihilate even hopes of long.

 

Why some people suffer so much?

Why, fatality tries to quench

Its thirst from the same well?

Why for some there is always a hell?

 

Perhaps, the invincible necessity

Has only thorns for some in its kitty,

Its purplish look of prey

Mind not the foundling’s bray.

 

Aah, the fixed ruin

For the whitish fresh jasmine!

And the joy-hog with its filmy eyes,

Lapping heart amidst someone’s cries.

 

Wild hilarity and wild rhythm

By fatality’s doom to its fathom,

Why then a flower is born

If the spring is only but desert-lorn?

Ode to Butterfly

 

O butterfly on the soft petals,

Flowers yellow of daffodil,

Its trumpet shaped central crown,

Dilute thou the bulb poisonous;

On cactus type pointed flowers,

And bright coloured in dahlia,

Perch upon daisy’s disk floret,

Among white, purple petals,

Fly over dandelion’s solitary flower,

Disperse its white haired seeds,

Create lonely smiles around.

Compromise lily’s varieties many,

Its showy flowers purple,

Spotted golden, yellow and crimson,

Pure white, some with spots darker,

Thou cluster over each of them,

Flare also with lobes fragrant,

Hearty shape thine in cluster hued,

Match its leaves heart shaped,

Aid thus the florist trade,

Parent as you orchid flowers,

Siblings variety in shape, size, colour,

Thou but favour them all.

Too much colour hearted then,

Thou fly drunken, fluttering,

Take off as you from

Poppy’s white, pink red cups,

Bell then tulip’s bell shaped one,

Its bluish green leaves smile,

Pointed, they show colours ebrious.

Sweet scented nectar from

Garden violet makes you fly again,

Its central petal with guidelines

To pollinate, to procreate,

And thou further the nature there.

O highly coloured and patterned,

Flier strong, migrating distances great,

Thou nectar, plant juice feeder,

Wings rest vertically for short,

As thine club shaped antennae

Senses flowers from far.

Harvesting Girl

 

Harvesting girl, thy wheatish brow,

Thereupon shine the labour crops,

Receding furrows of wheat heat thee up,

And thy sickle becomes shakti.

Parched lips, work strain on sweating face,

Trickle which upon eyelids and dreams,

Keep heart O girl, prism they are,

Showing imagination-hued coloured hopes;

Hopes of a good harvest; home upstaged

Or groomed dreams about marriage.

 

The wheatish colour strewn around,

All eager to be cut short by thy hands,

And there thou move ahead leaving stumps,

Wiping occasionally brow thine;

Dreamt harvest go off with a swipe.

Real thou become for the reality one:

Look at the furrows swaying ahead,

Hot noon, flying pollens show them oblong,

And thou start slowly-slowly again,

Brow thine meanwhile glitters with sweat drops tiny.

 

Drops which fall upon thy eye shelters,

Beneath narrowed eyes due concentration hard,

Still sun reflects through them,

And rainbowed vision thou have.

How much to be finished? Worry thee not,

Lost again in a dream, O girl, thou mingle in gold,

Work as thou bent headed; pollens fall,

Seems it thou harvesting, give offerings,

Blessed such thou reach furrow end,

Tire not O girl, furrows lie at thy feet.

 

Small sand-swirl passes as by,

Leaves it thy hair more pollen stricken; wind furrowed,

O windy girl, now when the loo is forming,

And all are afraid of sandy gusts,

Thou, but, have fire more inside thee,

Hence listen thou not its voice around ears,

Thus defeated it passes to flutter those leaves far,

Now when sun is shining overhead,

Like a father feeling for his daughter,

Stays it there to avoid thy face directly.

 

Thou smell the smell of ripened gold,

Sweat scented body thine sources it,

Mingles it with the blowing hot air,

And the message spreads over the vast fields,

The message of hard work without complaint,

Makest it the golden wheat more so;

Inspires the lonely hands struggling across furrows;

Beats away the looming defeat,

Harvester! Thou art the only flower,

For the spring begone, and honeybee wandering.

 

Peasant girl, stand thou upright for some backrest,

And look around into wheatish wilderness,

Nobody is there except some heads

Bent before the furrows and sickled hands,

Feel not forlorn O golden girl,

For thou art the brightest grain,

See! Each lesser one is looking up to you,

Become their role model for brightness’ purpose;

Grinding awaits them after all,

O apostle grain, go on with thy mission.