To the people of Earth

  Yesterday no one knew you, nameless you wandered free; grew like a wild flower on a distant hill, praised by eyes that held beauty- Tomorrow everyone will know you, your name known far and wide; like an exquisite butterfly on display standing stare of every passer-by- Today is when you must decide which choice would have your senses soothe, for dear friend beware, of fleeting fame it is but truth- of course it pays you thrice; even so, the elixir of happiness it gives comes with a heavier price.

  Caged and trapped we flutter like a wild bird- its feathers ruffled and  its feet enchained; agitated, unsteady when we try to fly we realize this cage is not a physical one- with our "ifs" and "buts" deep in mind ingrained; its our own creation, thwarting a full flight our own limitation.

Forgive us O' mother for we have sinned, you bore us in your womb and we left your body skinned; you chose to bear life and what glorious fruit it was, but you bore a viper in your bosom with ample venom in its jaws- existence of every passing soul starts and ends in you, yet rivers of blood we spill to cleave, every inch of you. Fleeting is the nature of life ephemeral is its essence- for glory and triumph, Oh! how we have erred  to mark a temporary presence. O' mother Earth I pray to you, let the folly of our  conceits, on us dawn- and awaken in us the responsibilities that we own, for you are the only hope we have- only home we've known.

You charge with your guns and your tanks that purges lives of thousands; you drop your bombs and blazing missiles into the houses of innocents; You attack with your tactics and strategy smiles of many vanishes in tragedy; Your empty promises and sly lies rakes in bodies in piles; If you fight, they will have to fight, If you step forward, they will have to defend, If you force, they will have to die- The choice is yours to make but don't for a second pretend, you didn't have one! Just now the world was united- suffering, dying, fighting a common enemy(covid), it's a shame you had to take its place and rip the world apart only to make it go through it again, this time all alone! You hurtful man... Shameful man... Hateful man...

  Spring Pink cherry blossoms, in lively nature's lap; prompts how worth is living. Summer Bright sunny mornings lying on the sandy beach spent licking ice cream. Autumn Gentle breeze drop leaves red earth-crisp murmur under feet; hushed rustling fall. Winter Snowy streets, hot sips Yule cheer brings everyone near- then cycle repeats. P.S: Tried writing Haiku, they are written in 5-7-5 syllable structure usually.The first line contains 5 syllables, the second 7 and the third again 5.They are used to provide vivid imagery. This was fun!

Before you, I craved to play but  none of my dolls were good enough, big yet emotionless were their eyes beautiful yet a plastic smile present and yet couldn't speak; Before you, I craved for attention but no one could understand me, my cries for companionship  were taken as annoyance, my attempts to chase away boredom- a test of patience. After you, my life altered,  emotions forever changed- you became that doll of mine  which touched my heart,  held me, hugged me  and cried for me; I held you tight until you became a part of me no one could pull us apart. Your big round eyes, kind and tender your clear smile set my face aglow, you stuck by my side and felt what I felt until we became each other's shadow.

  Sound of thoughts rushing through head, duet of beating heart  and every breath; sound of a bird afar flapping its wing, in depths of ocean multitude of lives sing; sound of a solo  falling leaf, shrieking will that move mountains through staunch belief; sound of fireflies dancing in a field, cries of a baby floating in womb's shield; sound of the glacier cracking in defiance, in Spring, flowers bloom loudly on nature's reliance; Listen for a moment put away weapons and violence, engulfing our existence echoes the sound of silence.

 My dear readers, to thee I implore you must imagine  70's India; to explore depths of this tale of those times, narrated to me on reportedly true lines. Actors of this story- Deepa and Ravi. She was gorgeous and elegant draped in silk saree; tied in chignon were her tresses walked the stunning beauty  as the world confesses.  Tall and dark with soulful eyes he was simple; as a man could've been, singing lovelorn songs while playing his mandolin. Both attended the same college, he was her senior as per my knowledge. One day while sitting under a cherry tree he played melancholy love songs aplenty, one of them struck a chord in her heart, well! that's how my friends, this tale had its start.  One glance it took  for them to know,  they were meant to be together so they went with the flow- Storm of feelings brewing in their  hearts, sparks flew in the air, they felt ever so connected in that electric atmosphere. Finally, to express such complicated ...

Dark grey skies from whence it came,  spiralling and tumbling down  without name; aimless, careless into  a free fall, heeding the gravity's wondrous call.  Rolling through a fair maiden's cheek, mistaken by the world, as neglected teardrop meek. Fell into  the hands of a playful child, who held and gently  kissed it mild. Slowly it dropped and embraced  the ground forgotten and left to be on its own;  wryly smiling to have passed through  this realm to silently disappear  into the unknown.

There comes a time when nature instills awe, Awe for beauty, awe for survival awe for life itself; The melancholy breeze  strikes a chord with the coupled heart, smell of pine it brings along  comes as sweet surprise- Ocean waves on moonlit night caresses yet disconcerts, drop of dew in early morns  glows and shines through; Showered mountain beckons like a maiden after a dip, her soaked hair smoothly flowing;  as she shies away coyly at the mount's zenith Tiniest speck of existence assimilates in nature, Oh! how beautiful life feels when one is wooed by nature.

Why does it bother you? I don't need you to rely upon, I can do stuffs on my own; Is it my self-sufficiency? Is that what bothers you? Why does it bother you? I don't have bowed head, lowered eyes, kitchen and kids aren't where my identity lies; Is it my freedom? Is that what bothers you? Why does it bother you? I can wear what I like, And decide what I'd do; I am sexy and smart, is that what bothers you? Why does it bother you? I can earn enough capably, and provide for my family; Is it my independence?- Must be that's what bothers you. But, why does it bother you indeed? Coz I believe in a simple creed- that I'll always rise! This is an uprising, you'd hardly be able to stop; I will fly and soar the high skies, even if my wings you try to crop. For the world is big enough to exist as equals- both you and me.

  Young Sofia slept and wept, as every night mama's sobs crept- into her room. What did papa want? Charging with a low grunt? The shouts and screams only added to her gloom. Once again deep into night, mama woke her after a fight. Said mama, "Quick! Pack and pick up your pace!" Leapt Sofia to her friend - a rusty old green suitcase. Thumping hearts, throbbing pulse, marked heightened sense; Clinging to a gleam of hope, they ran through darkness dense. Torment, agony behind them, to uncertainty they head Gripping the suitcase slept Sofia, earth was that night's bed. Toiling through days and nights, reaching north where there's snow- To the land of dreams and hopes they went, fleeing from Mexico. In search of a better living, hither and thither they had to race; Tireless, stood by their side, the adamant green suitcase. Now time has passed, lives have changed- young Sofia is of age She lends a helping hand to mama and draws a thriving wage. Yet forever humbled are t...

Waking to sweet petrichor pandiculating leisurely, I wonder what the day has in store; Slowly pitter-patter on the leaves rise- morning breeze, like wave against shore. This day, majestic is the view of the green fecund hill. Nature bellows and my heart pirouettes in thrill. Seeing a friend on my gate, we start for school. Holding umbrella! we laugh and smile. Wandering through the garden of grumpy Mr. Carlyle- uproar of the nature on our side, bags we fill with pears in pride. Enter class, drenched to the bone- the teacher says, "This won't do" in a stern tone. "Go Home! Take a rainy day", solemnly we turn,  quickly we retrace, unless eyes betray, our heart's elated sway. Worried sick maa goes out of way to feed me all I like and  to let me lay; Oh! Isn't it the best day? Rainy day, what a lovely day!

  I shall awake! I shall rise! Shattering the shackles of ignorance- I shall meet my maker. Ripping the terrible darkness,  I shall step into light. To find my purpose- I'd rather burn out than fade away!

  If I were a ghost, flying would be natural to me. I'd gallivant around the whole world, without any fee. If I were a ghost, guzzling food wouldn't take a toll on me. I'd gobble and gulp all I like, totally guilt free. If I were a ghost, Oh! mom and dad, to be near thee. I'd climb and live next to you, atop our oak tree. If I were a ghost, Ah! my sibs, to tease you three. I'd flick your hair, pinch your nose, and poke your head in glee. If I were a ghost, my ex-lover, I'd haunt you shall see. Three days your love endured for me, was gone in other three. If I were a ghost, unusual would be usual obviously. Gems and gold, some silver I’d hold, to grant all your plea. Beware all! If I were a ghost, you wouldn't want me your enemy. You'd loose your mind and might go blind, seein'  a handsome ghost as me.

 Standing fore a mirror, I think of you, lost in those eyes, my reverie ensues. Playful, cheerful, Ah! what fun, wrinkles of time had touched you none. You worked when it mattered  like a diligent sleuth, whiled away the rest, sometimes carelessly, to tell you the truth. Bright eyes, free heart, innocence from which pleasure others derive, in the ebbs and flows of your laughter the world felt alive. Now all is on the wane, rickety structure in lieu of a sinewy frame. Silent betrayal growing day by day, all around coursing senile decay. Around the eyes are wrinkles many fold, deep lines on forehead in a clouded mind's hold. Trembles and tremors are companions constant,  oiling every organ is ever so important. Oh well! It can't be helped, nature will take it's course, "No regrets" is the mantra to a life without remorse. I look away from the mirror, feeling cold, after all I am you, just a little old. P.S: This year’s first post/poem. It’s about growing old. How at...