The Poet in the Poem

  Chapter 3: Of the mind

  Its reason is based on its find,

  As sure as it is of the mind.

  MANHOOD IN THE BUTTERFLY

  The egg hides the being within it,

  Breaks out in shade, shape and sex;

  Unfolding a baby sprawled in the seat.

  The caterpillar walks on many legs;

  Learning roads, mealing its short time trek,

  To the yearning adolescent, the world only begs.

  The pupa mangles everything inside,

  The reformed molding chrysalis, it hides.

  Teenage cocoons its world, ready for its rides.

  The butterfly spreads out its glory,

  Formed and grown, coloured in its flurry;

  Finally like the adult’s world, flying its own story.

  PEACE

  Sweetness can be knitted,

  Not only in its taste fitted.

  All man’s units appreciated,

  His entire being all saturated.

  ECLIPSE

  Master though we be,

  Lord over life as it’s set.

  Moments looms for we;

  Conquered mortals, you we net.

  PEARL

  Oyster sitting on the sea bed,

  Invaded by a tiny sand grain.

  The instant healing power it send

  Is the Pearl's exquisite product of pain.

  A creation of the little mollusc

  Made at harsh times it can't choose,

  At the point of such danger and peril;

  The small oysters gathers as they feel.

  It exudes a precious secretion

  By this act of self desperation;

  To heal, mend and save its life,

  The result is a rare Pearl for life.

  WATERS

  Look at the waters, compare and see

  How very like man it turns out to be.

  With other substances or matters joint,

  They both change form and focus point.

  Piffling sorts see evil before it reveals,

  And the good only after it has surfaced.

  From unlikely circumstances pain heals

  And age old valuable matter are defaced.

  No action without its consequence,

  Then love is sort of basically insanity.

  Take a dip and the source is its essence;

  Some faith’s indulgence keeps humanity.

  DEATH

  Cruel, cruel death

  We have never met.

  I only just heard

  Of the fear in tears you said.

  You’ve been about the herd

  And oh the wonder you fed.

  Who tells if you’re sent

  When you only just left?

  MANNA

  Is to live a curse or gift?

  If you wonder, you need a lift;

  Up to the skies of living memory,

  Back and forth man’s own glory.

  WEAN

  Bo! Little weenie, boo!

  Has Mama whispered the scores?

  Love draws its busy bow

  Over the horizons of many bores.

  The taste of many sowed

  Weaponed you for battle, yee ha!

  Your taste buds tempted and wooed

  Cried your resistance thus far.

  Shhh, little one sleep.

  You’ll know good won’t always win.

  Flesh for teeth, yet grass for sheep;

  You, surely Mama will wean.

  MAN

  Man is built and made to a form,

  Yet he so searches to end this norm.

  THE WHORE

  With dunes like empty breasts,

  The victim is her own lost foe.

  Agony as sorrow is her guests’,

  For in her womb no one sow;

  Surely the land is made a whore.

  ELEGY OF OUR MUMMY

  Your produce is here and true,

  For this surely a mummy are you.

  From the start of it all you were

  Willing that all elements be there.

  The availability of all that is good

  Is so limitless and has no mood.

  You were to be of such a mould;

  An embodiment of this idea so old.

  You could see with blind eyes

  Embrace truth and discard their lies.

  As all came and as all so went,

  You blur pain and just dreamt.

  Indifference is that able chance

  Not just affordable to all hands.

  Compassion has love in its nature,

  Lacking no past, present or future.

  Dead is an air bubble inside a diamond,

  Your aged love lingers on inside time.

  Till you died, to these lives your breath lives on

  Though death ever comes back down to earth.

  FRET

  Knighting glories to seek,

  Crows in sunrises forever.

  All does becomes meek,

  Fret and surely does wither.

  Death in its hunger

  Fills not its own anger.

  Mowing earthly lawns,

  It plays men like pawns.

  IN DEBT

  Tomorrow they will come again,

  Like the once that didn’t end.

  If thoughts carry, who’ll remain?

  On our failures we can’t depend.

  How did it come to this scare;

  The solution still concentrated?

  The liquid added with much care

  Must have added not abated.

  The only door out was a loan.

  It secured; for it did get shut,

  Not behind but within, alone.

  The respite it gave wasn’t a lot.

  Soon the answer was a question

  And hinges blown off their sockets.

  War regrouped and no protection;

  It is too late to run to the markets.

  Caught indoors and so trapped

  And lost is that chance far left.

  Any repeat leaves efforts strapped

  As deep waters engulf all in debt.

  RAINBOW

  Are we not all just one,

  When prismed not alone?

  The colours differently clear,

  Yet all bindingly so, so near?

  The red ends in violet,

  And the ends all collect.

  From one horizon to another,

  Hued in one mystical order.

  HOPE

  I have you but I don’t know you,

  I have heard you but not seen you.

  Dunes blown to wave into a new hill,

  Like desert sands, you create your feel.

  SWIFT’S DAY AND BAT’S NIGHT

  The cities are a big buzz of motions;

  Hurried, rushed, so quick commotions.

  All days lift into the very long hurry

  That is civilization’s endless story.

  Sunlight by they whoosh by busy.

  Visible yet blur, their lives not easy.

  They lit nights for more and a bite,

  Workers and parasitic wonders in flight.

  ONE BIG SPORT

  How easily the same are the different,

  The serious life trends and fun learnt.

  Common norms evolve, made as nurtured;

  Incorporated as accepted and featured.

  The giant loom that is our society

  Is loomed with its pretence of piety.

  A course is unset as it is assumed,

  Thus the winner is just only presumed.

  In their sameness we see a shortcoming;

  Of macro life as against the sporting.

  Like we may never ever put to its sort,

  We find life is one big contact sport.

  WALLS OF CHINA

  The old London Bridge is falling down

  Yet everyone still swims back into town.

&nb
sp; When the new walls of China do crumble

  They won’t stay back there to just cuddle.

  WEIRD FEET

  Imagine if your feet points inwards

  And your heels are aligned outwards.

  Your legs do not end with any toes

  And look like thin straight fleshy poles.

  You walk like a tall naked chicken

  And take only small steps for no reason.

  SPORTS FOR PLAYERS

  The Coach isn’t selfless but human too,

  He is the person with a plan for everyone.

  With abilities as experience all learnt anew;

  He is an optimist, patient as sure as the sun.

  The Player obeys the norms and urge,

  Enjoying the dreamt up living, yet real.

  Dancing to all songs with a new surge,

  Blinding days are lit with a light to feel.

  The Sport is heartless and demanding,

  All companies it keeps are envious of it.

  Consuming lust filled, never satisfying;

  On its sure ride it will keep every bit.

  The Game is simple and easy to chase,

  Embraced in choices to choose and make.

  Stages of gains at every level of the race

  Made the whole thing Sports for players’.

  A HOLE IN THE SUN

  Dancers in the sun’s light

  Amaze my privileged sight

  And fill my heart with delight.

  Floating in some physical void,

  Dazzling the spectacle they lord;

  Visible in the air I cannot avoid.

  What I see likens a light dust,

  Entertaining my eyes’ own lust

  As the ray blows them all out.

  A comet must have just gone by

  And beamed pass my open eye,

  From the bright splendor up high.

  Its mild rays’ lonely lights tread

  On a woven lit path boldly made

  To awaken the soul’s long dead.

  The mystery is doubt’s glory

  That yields an affectionate story

  Daring every notion’s theory.