Living Proverbs
1.
A talent
That’s never
A given;
It’s a seed
Given its chance.
2.
Silence isn’t still,
The hush does tell.
3.
Jerusalem:
God’s own city,
Satan owns it.
4.
Honesty
That’s the best.
Can we afford it?
5.
Stories will last,
Tellers never.
6.
Quit India
For the British
Then.
Get India
That’s for Indians
Now.
7.
What matters
Matters little
If that little
Doesn’t matter.
The little
That matters
That’s what
Really matters.
***
Dawn at 97
(for Bastian Antony)
He served in the British army,
Survived malaria in Rangoon,
Walked days to escape the
Japanese,
Back in Madras to begin again.
Joined the state public service,
Wanted to return to Cochin,
Stayed on for his daughter’s
studies,
Retired on time at 55.
Wakes up the dawn at four and
prays,
Goes daily to his parish church,
One of the first to arrive,
Lately though with our friend
Jose.
Comes back walking half the way,
Breaks his fast at his friend’s
tea shop,
Chats and chuckles as usual,
Gets home to read The Hindu.
He is deaf in one ear,
His friends as old as he.
Listens to most, talks to some,
But laughs with everybody.
He used to tell me:
We can’t change people,
Need to let them be; that’s
The way to respect all.
His quiet and true respect
Despite people’s caste or class
A refrain friends often recall,
Clear and loud in colleagues’
words.
Nithi’s surest support,
The hug that brightens both:
The granddaughter means it all
The granddad gives it all.
Blamed for being true and na├пve,
Not a ruthless go-getter
Cost the one business he tried.
Still felt free to laugh it off.
Once he told a friend:
You’re now past 80,
Stay happy for the day
Ready to die any day.
Memory’s sure whisper, they bring
His frequent smiles and laughter.
His watchful look sparkles
The chair by the window.
Waves wash up the beach,
The dusk takes down the day.
We walk back into the quiet
For the dawn at 97.
***
Let’s Home Again
Little sprouts in billions
We’re bouts and bits of
Breathless memories
Till Dust turns dust
The home we’re in,
The home we turn to.
The body, the mind
The earth and the stars:
No more mere tropes,
They bind all of us,
A fungal harmony,
Souls in fellowship.
Bless the rain, the forest,
And the bliss by the sea:
We come home again.
That is a wonderful creation Joychettan. The words are expressive and I could relate to some portions as I have met him for a couple of times. All the very best!!
ReplyDeleteDawn 97' , I feel, is about my father. He came from Rangoon during the war and settled in Madras. He is the other self in the poem. Had he been alive today, he would be 100 years old.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the poems. Keep writing.
Poems are good feed for the literature hungry. Difficult than prose, makes the reader more content.
ReplyDeleteSorry Dr.Roy for reading your poems so late. I am greatly taken up by the economy of words in expressing such profound thoughts. Congratulations !
ReplyDelete