Jewelled Vagary by Nature and Man

 

White-pearled necklace smiles,

Of cobweb, with dew beading it,

Silvery, on a bonsai-like acacia,

In murky morning, fog and cold.

 

Prickly branches sprout, frozen,

Empty-headed, standing still and mute,

Like a bribed beauty silent;

Jewelled throats disclose nothing.

 

The fog-vaulted sky above,

Vapours riding nuclei unseen,

Making things around appear as sprites,

And the necklace among the bones and thorns.

 

Gallowed! Thus serene forever,

Like the ever-impressed eyes portrayed,

Follow which the observer always,

Greedy to be jewelled more.

 

Nature’s goldsmithy and the man’s:

The necklace in the thorns,

The other making the skin prized more,

Beauty thus defined, thrives on donated bounties.

The Voice Inside

 

Forget about the hoot and holler

emanating from the world outside,

And give an ear to the soft and murmurous

cooings emanating from the soul,

It has a soft and sympathetic

message for you only,--

your most personal message,

meant only for you,

Listen to these delicate chimes,

It’ll help you in finding peace in chaos,

In getting a foothold in the stampede,

In feeling rest, repose and respite

amidst constant buffeting by the world around,

It’ll help you in breaking

the hardest of superficial layers,

which suffocate and limit your identity,

And put you face to face with

your true self, your real worth,

Listen to it, close your eyes,

And pay attention with all your heart,

Just for a change,

don’t look far, look closest at yourself,

It’ll be as uneventful as looking

at a dust particle around your feet,

But it changes the universe for you,

You will have the biggest message

in the softest of whispering phrases!

And it’ll help you in finding yourself.

My Mind, My Buddy

 

Be the seat of my strength, not weakness.

Be the seat of kindness, not cruelty.

Be the source of light, not darkness.

Be the source of energy, not idleness.

Be the source of creativity, not limited vision.

Be the source of love, not hate.

Be the source of smiles, not tears.

Be the source of happiness, not suffering.

Be the seat of optimism, not pessimism.

Be the seat of gain, not loss.

Be the source of help, not obstruction.

Be the seat of leadership, not just sleepwalk.

Be the seat of a better human being.

Be the source of a more loving person.

O my mind, my seat of potential,

take my journey further.

Choose the better half of all the dualities for me.

One should keep reminding one’s mind.

Repeatedly.

Daily.

With eyes closed with a fervent request.

It’s a very nice, nutritious pre-breakfast food.

Sweet Enemy

 

Though your enemy, I am sweet!

My neck thus deserves a softer treat!

The Whisper

 

The mighty lord whispers in a soft voice,

‘My son grow thou strong

and sire chances for those without any choice!’

A Brief Love-grip

 

Love loops around on an early winter day,

In the heart, endless things to say,

Shines a gently warm, bright ray,

Before the icy winters shout, and chuck it all out,

Enjoy and make hay!

The Feminizing Man

 

Fragrance scented and colours prismatic,

Flowers seduce with surrendering softness

and intoxicating aesthetics,

This alluring, sweet poison slays many,

Parasitically it creeps into

the hibernating, sleepy male vitality,

And the red, gushing blood of sense and sanity

turns into silly swirls of bluish oblivion.

Foolish torrents of bewitching beauty follow,--

A marvellous decolourisation of

flesh, vision and potency!

 

The woman does the same with the man,--

Her moves lie under the surface,

Letting loose amorous tremors,

The tamed beast clinging to feeble, unmanly chains:

the emotions, cooings and the mellowed stone,

Then she slaughters the prey most manly,

Bravo! Salutes to the femininity:

the hardest heart under the shield softest.

 

Weakness has its strength in vulnerability,

Don’t mistake power by the steel in muscles,

Soft flowers and seductive women

thrive on the dew shower of temptations,

Eyes thirsty, pining senses;--

The altars of the insected, infatuated masculinity,

More the offerings on the altar,

more the Goddess thrives,

So many wither to bloom a smile

in her sly eyes.

 

But her demands from the worshipper

are never satiated,--

Greedy Goddess!

She thus hunts around,

But greed can never make one complete,

So she just remains a fraction,

Men cut themselves to the same

to complete her missing portion,

The happy Goddess then

laughs at the follies of the maimed.

 

Black bee, man sacrifice to

prove the worth of an ounce of femininity,

Rivers eat mountains, while the stones

surrender to the fluidity of the majestic masseur,

The woman meanders to fragment the man,

Making round, harmless, cuddly pebbles.

 

As the feminine dreams web around,

The ensnared caterpillar hums the songs of love,

The spider salivates and chuckles,

The trap of seduction,

The cobwebs of death,

The river thus triumphantly

rolls on with mighty boulders,

The song of macabre swirling

among the torrential giggle and frightening moan.

 

Femininity wins through its weakness,

The flowers smile and bloom on showers of tears,

The woman makes the man a means to her end,

Travels on his strong back

to reach her destination

and find the purpose of her life.