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“.
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Withdrawn into a shell,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.
“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
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 close to death…
I walked so close to the valley of death…
Not this time only…
But many times…
In many occasions I walked…
I walked close to death.
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 His presence…
I felt His Holy Countenance…
I felt His loving arms around me.
I felt the warmth of His life…
As I walked in the ruthless cold of death.
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 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)
“Give thy thoughts no tongue” – William Shakespeare
It is said that half of a person’s beauty comes from their tongue. An amazing truth about the tongue is, it takes years to learn how to use it but a lifetime to learn when and where to use it.
Here’s a free verse poem on the tongue:
moist and pink
it’s a small soft flesh
without a bone,
but sturdy enough
to twist the words and turn
smitten by the briney
winds of the sea
it licks the lips with haste,
savours the flavour
beackon for more
it lives mostly for taste
but don’t be fooled
with its smooth texture
if you haven’t seen
what it can do,
it’s as mighty and evil
as one can get
tongue is a powerful tool
it speaks your mind
also your heart
sometimes chatter idly
bringing on mischief,
or time the words
to persuade a crowd
and if it slips
can ruin the world
nerves make it dry
otherwise drools amply
it’s an organ of flair
Connoisseur in matters of taste;
it bends and curls
in raspberry twirl
when it devours another lips
always willing to assist
in matters of the heart
hold it, bite it
if you’re feeling too sharp
tie it with words
it’ll mock your heart
maybe it’s forked
making you lie
put it in your cheek
it’ll play the part
don’t let it go astray
tame it with care
teach it the language
of fairness and quiet
it’ll know what to speak
when and where.
Even a cactus can grow up
to be beautiful with all its
prickly thorns and
thick petal flowers,
alone in the desert
with no nurture or
refreshing water showers.
With no gardener
to take care of it,
or some bird to
come and sit on it.
No animals to
gnaw on its leaves,
no prayers to be offered
Around, with any beliefs.
Strong and alone in the
barren land it stands,
taking in all it can get yet
happy playing with hot sands.
Even the most beautiful
tchotchke seems unnecessary
at times, feels like it’s just
taking up space for something
better, something nice.
But all it is doing is beautifying
the corner, not expecting
to be admired all the
time in spite of being a loner.
Even a festoon gets
unnoticed albeit hanging
on top of the main entrance,
just dangling, looking
beautiful, not causing
anyone, any hindrance.
Not bothering if anyone
pays any heed to it ever,
nor expecting to be
witnessed on some
auspicious occasion, never.
Sun, rain, wind or cold, any
weather not causing it to
bow down low,
on the top, the glossed
over festoon hangs,
with pride aglow.
Even with a worthy life we
tend to astray from our path,
not trying to move forward,
clinging on to our inglorious past.
Loving, cherishing the present we
ought to live despite any strife,
standing tall and moving forward
with all love’s glory in life.
Sometimes I assume
I am carrying problems
on my shoulder
rather than the actual weight
my shoulders hunch
as nobody tells them to relax
my world is an emotional baggage
of what I don’t see
and what I see
yet I have chosen not to unload
I have become used
with this excess baggage that
it has become comfortable to carry
I have forgotten to enjoy a ride
with less baggage…
Sometimes I carry a hidden baggage
of anger, fear, and sadness
that sneaks up on me
and ambush me out of nowhere…
I want to get rid
of that old baggage
that I carry every day
on my shoulders
I wrote a list of my impacts
and tucked it into my purse
little did I realize that
the old baggage I am carrying
day in and day out
has been holding me back
from maximizing my potential…
I finally gathered the courage
to let this emotional baggage go
I tore the list into pieces
and dumped into the trash
my shoulder is
no more burdened
with the weight
my heart is light
like an infant smile
I am moving forward
less weighted down
by the past…