Narinder Bhangu |
This Summer
This hot seasonleft the grass,
dry and arid
the roots struggled
for the straggling moisture,
as the the Sun
defied all ,
stronger or weaker
the desiccated faces
the wilting flowers
and shedding of leaves,
the unrest humanity
suffering from agony,
of all races,
the downtrodden's suffering,
and sagging breasts
of a child's mother,
dying with hunger,
whose hands begged for
a morsel of a bread.
And,
the wind lifted,
the poet's poem
to the place unknown,
laden with love,
soft and pure,
grandeur and sublime,
mongering goodwill,
it was then that
I noticed an emotional deluge
when the sky poured down
droplets of rain,
as if, some one wept
away, far away, no where.....
that filled the air with the moisture
everywhere, here and there....
A Seed of Hope
the water man carriedtwo pitchers
one on left side,
the other on right.
the one on left side
was cracked and leaking.
and, sprinkled half of his water
on his side, always...
one on right side
remained full,
in journey of some minutes
to the master's home.
the left side pitcher
sad and pent- up as was,
readied to withdraw,
in a fit of hopelessness.
the water man, then
holding his hand
showed him,
the beds of flowers
beautifully aligned
their petals shining
dancing with each gust of wind
in glory...that he sprinkled water on
where butterflies came proudly
to suck the nectar
unnoticed
fluttering
wantonly....
in response to
the seed of hope.
that the water man had sowed,
in an attempt to fill
the gap in the cracked spirit.
A Clarion Call
behind the veil ( shroud )bubbling energy I posses
yet waiting for sprouting
to prove my fertility.
Knowing that energy
being mis-used,
and siphoned off,
I call upon thinkers
to seal the broken channel,
for bringing harmony
as behind the veil
gushing energy is fizzing ...