When it rained

The fields would sway to the wind
the children in trains waving back.

The tides would get back their surf
the farmers too engrossed in work.

When the rains hit us days on it made pools of watery slush.

The mud would entrance the kids who would make pots with the clay.

The sun would peep in on the dew
so the grass could retain the shine.

The grasshoppers would jump in joy
crickets playing the game of life.

The butterflies were very choosy
as to which flower they would sit.

This made it difficult for us to catch
by reading their minds in tiny heads.

Advertisements

Rain Series

A group of clouds came from nowhere
filled with water, they turned to a shower
it is rainy days here again, remarked some
kids left their games and did a rain dance
whatever was left to dry now taken inside
whatever needed to be wet was put outside
the rain drenched and washed the stench
bringing its own perfume that was earthen.

The clouds could now be seen fast receding
a child looked up to see them now flying away
what other task you have, to go soon so fast
please stay and pour some more water on us
to our hearts fill and to fill our pots and wells
No dear, we have other places to water well
and we better not be late, whispered the cloud
as he sped away to catch up with the others…

Making of a Guru

The wind wound up its path and made a detour
only to face poor me and accord a warm welcome
The canoe in which I was seated, wobbled slightly
not sure of how it would handle the shallow rocks.

The dried up lake seemed to end all of a sudden
its path cut off by a long line of rounded rocks
the jarring made by the canoe prompted me
to desert it, having reached new found land.

The jump into the slush was a rough landing
I made my way to the parched land, with cattle
looking at me, an intruder to their grazing fields
dried as it was, I wondered on what they fed.

I could see a pall of smoke rising from a few huts
the distance to it was still far for my tired legs
A tree came into view with a few stones around
I decided to sit for some time to rest myself.

I sat in a trance, and I knew not, how time passed
My beard and dress and long hair gave me a look
of a saintly man, though I had fled away from sins
The only option was now to make a new beginning.

When I opened my eyes, I could see a few men
waiting for me to open my dried eyes and behold
what miracles I could perform for them, a poor lot
was what I thought, as they prostrated themselves.

I smiled at them and that lit up their eyes and ears
for they wanted me to perform and speak words
only the wise could speak, with souls enlightened
could they follow me, is what came to mind first.

The words flowed from them, and was I thrilled
to understand, and when I spoke, they listened
for they thought I was a savior sent by the Lord
to heal their wounds of despair and woes of life.

They seemed to have everything in plenty but not
in bounty, was rain that made the land parched
them having to walk the distance to the water
where I made my descend a few hours away.

They offered fruits and water and was I thankful
when providence and attention was riveted upon
poor me, who was a fugitive all these months
having got into fights and theft before I could rest.

I waved them off, tired to smile back at every them
listening to murmurs and pleas from elderly folks
they having crowded so close to look at me,
a specimen who spent solitary years in a cell.

The next day the people went about their tasks
some huddled in front of me, a welcome guest
who they thought would bring them benefits,
if only I knew, glory was to bestowed upon me.

A spade lying across was now gleaming at me
asking as if to get up and make its life meaningful
it is when I thought I could make mine too with it
having decided to bring the river to this village.

When I started work, amused kids joined the fray
villagers were not left behind lest I cursed them
for not joining the holy activity and before long
a pond and a canal was dug with no water to feed.

I looked up at the sky, there was no cloud in sight
If only, I wished, it rained, the weather so ripe
I managed to set up a prayer and a feast for all
joining to get divine help for the parched land.

The collective group prayed with me for days
waiting for a miracle to happen with me in tow
getting tired and with faint hopes diminishing
by the hour, my divinity was put to the test.

I did not lose hope and worked on the pond
with collective hopes getting faded by the day
a few people now dismissed me as a mad man
who knew nothing but to dig his own grave.

The flow of flowers and the fruits dried up on me
as I meditated upon nature, to provide the bounty
not riches, but pure water only could it provide to
make the land and my new life worthwhile.

One day, it did rain, when we were least prepared
the flowing water filled the canal and wet the pond
the next day, with tidings came the river gushing
plenty, it filled the mighty pond as did our hearts.

These days, I am a Guru, giving my blessings to all
from poor folk to rich ones, from near and afar
and what better person could teach them than me,
a fugitive, who had learnt to live life the better way…

The Indian Summer

English: Indian Summer
English: Indian Summer (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A cackle of geese far receding
as if trying to escape the hot
wind that rushes upon them
is now let loose over the arid
plains now devoid of water.

With lips parched and shriveled skin
every now and then, a farmer
with a sweating brow looks
up to the sky to deliver for he
cannot bear the earthly pangs.

On the lookout to wet their thirst
Hark, they say, is it thunder?
whenever they hear large sounds
in the distance that turn out to
be a mirage as the birds arrive.

It is the Indian summer no doubt
conditions dreaded by many a traveler
as it seldom leaves you from clutches
that are humid and hot as you cry
and pray for the monsoon to arrive.

On the look out

Who looks at the crow in flight

and the lovely butterfly in sight.

Who ĺooks at the sun on shine

and the glowing moon so shy.

Who looks at the woman smiling

as she surveys the cows grazing.

Who looks at the clouds sailing

as the wind makes trees moving.

Who looks at the river flowing

flooded with heavy rain falling.

Who listens to the thunder falling

with looks of fear on faces passing.

Who listens to the birds chirping

in the silence of the ants climbing.

Who looks at the water while rowing

as the fish come to see who is sailing.

Who looks at the children playing

turning deaf to parents calling.

Who looks at mighty Lord so loving

who made mother nature pleasing.

Fun Mail

funmail

There was a girl who sent him a mail
he, who was sitting all the day pale
in a house that was put up for sale.

He set out to find the sender of the mail
the trail was long in a train on a rail
that brought him to a ship that set sail.

On a long journey that would surely fail
for the ship met face to face with a gale
that hit them for days on end with hail.

The food and the water turned out stale
when washed ashore, they put him in jail.
for papers he had none on him to set sail.

Our fellow took the pain to write her a mail
she received with pleasure to free him on bail
and thereby set a happy ending to our tale…

 

 

 

Friends who blossomed

The short Jasmine and the tall Lily
would talk  daily as they swayed
the gentle wind who would listen
the bright hovering sun who watched
the merciful rain falling to protect.

The moon shining bright every month
lighting them up as they slept unaware
looking over the ever so gentle beauties
blissfully lighting many a human heart
whose scanning eyes would pick them.

Their life spans so short to us humans
who would enjoy their beauty one day
not even  bothering to look over them
bodies of two friends lying withered
their memories fading into quick sand…