THE GIFT-BEARER’S GIFTS

Carrying armloads of gifts uncertain,
Wrapped in glazing wrappers,
Someone knocks at the door,
As the clock ticks away . . .

 

What a warm welcome
The gift bearer receives
With open arms, beaming smiles
And hugs galore!

 

Gifts uncountable
Roll onto the table
Some small some big
Hardly can anyone wait for their pick

 

With excited squeals
All scramble onward
Eager anticipation
Givings way to mixed gasps

 

The wrappers are ripped apart
And strewn across the place
As all behold their gifts
Some with smiles and some with tears

 

Some hold prosperity in their hands
While for some a pile of debts to be cleared
Some united in marital bliss
While some hold a severing chord

 

Some hold happiness and success
While some have in their hands sadness and failure
Some cradle a new born
While some hold another year’s waiting

 

As the gift bearer beholds
The mixed expressions
He assures of joy in the midst of grief
And tranquility amidst unrest

 

The gifts that the year has brought forth
Do not promise prosperity and success for all
Yet there is available abundant Grace for all
Assuring victory over situations strong or dull

 

The Sender of the gift bearer
Is God over all
In His hands lie the reins
Of one and all.

KIDS WILL BE KIDS

Kids will be kids
In their thoughts, words and deeds

Hearts of purity and sincerity
With no traces of depravity

Life for them is all fun and play
Whether with people or toys or with sand and clay

Quick in imitation
They observe every move and action

Some are compliant and obedient
They will never give you scope for complaint

A ‘do it’ will be done
And a ‘don’t do it’ will be left undone

Some others throw tantrums
Till you agree to dance to the beats of their drums

Tell them a ‘No’
They process it as ‘Why not?’

A few kids give real headaches
You lose it till you give ‘em some spanks and shakes

And then their wailing
Brings neighbours to your window railing

Kids will be kids
Shower them with love and treats

Hopping jumping and playing
It is the phase when things are easy-going

A game of peek-a-boo
Makes them even to hide in a loo

Their squeals of laughter
Make adults forget all tiff and slander

To expect kids to behave like grown-ups
Is treachery – it sucks!

For every adult has this secret wish
To return to the golden days of carefree bliss

YOU CAN NEVER BE “NOTHING”

May not be the chime in rain drops,
But you might be the rainbow hidden in the water prisms,
just waiting for the beams to shine upon.

May not be the fragrance of freshly sprinkled earth,
But you might be the pot hidden in those particles,
just waiting for the hands to carve you.

May not be the breeze on a moonlit night,
But you might be the power of wind shattering the barriers,
just need the right direction for your flow.

May not be the apparent shine of gold,
But you might be the strength and value of a diamond,
just need fingers to polish and brush away the dust on you.

May not be everyone’s dream,
But you might be the music in someone’s life,
just need to usher the tunes of smile.

May not be everything you wanted to be,
But you might be something,
better and destined to be for you can never be “Nothing“.

SOLITUDE OF THE HEART

The heart alone knows its aching cry,
The cry of despair,
The cry that no one else hears,
Not even the one whose arm pulls you near.

When the world seems on its own way,
And storms rage at life’s bay,
You seem to be in dismay,
And do not know what to do or say.

The fierce tempests seem not to cease,
Putting you so ill at ease,
Yet you’ve got to smile,
And continue to walk the busy miles.

You look for comforters all around,
But all seem to push you aground,
The one you trust is so near yet so far away,
Ignorant to your heart’s aching cry.

The wiles of life appear difficult to bear,
As if your life is going to rip and tear,
And, you look around –
Alas! There is no one to hear.

Withdrawn into a shell,
You wish for all to be well,
As you marvel how alone the heart can be,
When all around so many you can see.

JOYS OF RAISING BOYS

“It’s going to be fun
For you have always gelled well
With every little one”
My dearest ones told me this
When I was blessed with a son. 

No, don’t do this,
Why don’t you try that.
Stop playing with the spices,
Go play with your bat.

Stop throwing a tantrum,
For I won’t give you my cellphone. 

Blue stars for every good deed,
Black stars for not paying me a heed.

I will reward you if you be good, 
Else will take your favourite toy and scoot. 

I tried and tested every advice,
Recalling that my class of 30 was amazingly nice.
I could handle them with perfection,
But my own showed no flexion.
It’s time to get him a sibling,
The new role will be fulfilling.
Another boy it was meant to be,
Sweet brotherhood I thought I’ll see. 

One year later I woke up from my dream,
There was a hard crust under the cream.
Screams and cries became an everyday affair,
Feuds became fights for me to interfere. 

Joys of raising boys is that you call?
Stress and yelling make my hair fall!
Girls are always caring I sometimes yell,
Get ‘Baby Alive Doll’  my elder one tells. 

Let’s send them to boardings,
For they’ll learn discipline and good things.
That’s the last resort we say,
But the heart remains in dismay. 

Hundreds of sorrries
Are oh-so-sweet,
The kisses during those worries,
Hugs and cuddles are my big treat.
These tiring years will soon fly, 

When I’ll realize these energetic boys are my only joy! 

I WALKED…

I walked…
I walked close to death…
I walked so close to the valley of death…
Not this time only…
Not once…
But many times…
In many occasions I walked…
I walked close to death.

 

I missed…
I missed my loved ones at that moment…
A moment when I went through the valley of the shadow of death…
A moment I almost missed and lost all…
But I found them all back…
I found them all again…
Because He wanted me to live again…
He wanted me to stay for others again.

 

I felt…
I felt His presence…
I felt His Holy Countenance…
I felt His loving arms around me.
I felt…
I felt the warmth of His life…
As I walked in the ruthless cold of death.

 

I touched…
I touched the softness…
I touched the softness of my saviour’s palms…
His comforting bosom.
My feet touched His soft palms as He carried me through in His arms…
The smooth, the soothing, the soft touch of Him made me whole and comforted.

 

I thank…
I thank God for His grace…
I thank for the life given to me again…
A life dedicated for Him…
A life dedicated for those who are in need of me…
A life to be poured out once again for my loved ones…
A life to be sacrificed again for His purpose.

(Originally posted HERE)

COMMIT TO COMMIT

To commit or to refrain,
The very thought often causes anxiety and pain
The constant dilemma,
Makes decision-making a huge enigma

Isn’t it better to be free sans commitment,
To have no strings attached in any involvement?
Seems wiser than to face disappointments
And nurse one’s wounds amidst songs of lament

To commit is to give your word
So stand by it whether come storms or sword
To commit is to take responsibility
Shirk not in the pretext of some inability

Commitment does pose challenges,
As it cuts a part of ‘self’ – the ‘me’ that rules,
But it doesn’t aim to devalue you
It aims to add value, instead

Think before you commit
Don’t let any pressure shape your commitment
But when you do commit
Live by it till your last breath permits.