Humbling Haughty Humans

Standing on the pedestals,
are statues of great men,
they claim to be greater,
even greatest as they ken.
The pedestals are flimsy,
in so big a city,
which again is a petty corner,
in a state so pretty.
The country houses so many states
of them that is one,
not much talked about,
they say, it’s just a clan.
Bigger is the continent,
that harbours these all,
take a globe in your hand,
can you point out where they fall ?
In the zillionth part of a whacking planet,
which is just a rubble in the cosmos,
stands the halfwit ,haughty human,
foreseeing glorious tomorrows .
Humble , humble haughty human,
what stokes your pride,
what makes you fuel carnages,
why do you take this stride ?
Your flesh has a stellar blessing,
for you have the gift of love,
but in your craze to earn not learn,
your boon like a bane you shove.
From your foster mother nature,
what all don’t you harness?
yet you choose to subdue her,
with your direful wantonness.
He does come with all his might,
as a saviour for His creation,
under His wrath you cuddle like a cat,
and He smothers the flames of your passion.
Bow you down to mother earth,
and wet her with tears of gratefulness,
with a forfeited soul and conceit aside,
you beseech Him with helplessness.
As a dust of grain is to you,
so are you to the cosmos you belong,
humble, humble haughty human,
or else you’ll perish before long.

Mothering poetry

Quite young was I,
tender was my soul,
untouched by world’s ferocity,
I was a damsel chasing my goal.
One fine day when God ordained,
words born out of me,
I began weaving each of them,
and couldn’t resist my glee.
Words were the cells you know,
tissue was each line,
organs were the stanzas and organism ?
It later became my spine.
That day I embraced motherhood,
for poetry was born out of me,
the chasm between me and my soul was bridged,
for my lock , I found the perfect key.
Twas time for me
to nurture my child,
to tame it right,
before going wild.
Sleepless nights then gave me bliss,
and days of struggle , appeasement,
I got enticed into its trap,
but that was never a confinement.
It had to get to grips with the world,
and seek obligatory validation,
though at places it did fail,
at others there was no question of negation.
Every time a laurel won,
my heart brimmed with pleasure,
my entire self coalesced with it,
and each acclaim I yearned to treasure.
I consigned myself to its betterment,
spending each second to polish it,
though it was an arduous journey,
I just couldn’t contemplate to quit.
Into a decent being as it grows,
gratification stealthily creeps into my heart,
but I cannot sit back and rest,
for there is much more to do for my art.

My way of catharsis

When dismay chokes me from within,
and makes me feel nauseated,
when it renders me oblivious to words,
and I feel deprived and defeated,
I stealthily creep,
into my secret sojourn of Elysium,
to find my ultimate respite,
though it’s not a fancy mausoleum.
In there, I tune in a symphony,
and give up my sanity,
my soul coalesces with every word,
I voluntarily lose my identity.
The prowess of the tune,
outdoes mine everytime,
I end up acquiescing in it,
for it is so sublime.
I swing with the melody,
dance it has been named,
it is done so inadvertently,
I feel it is divinely ordained.
I twirl and twirl like a tornado,
in circles as big as I can,
till my despair suffers a tangential cast,
its ingress for hours I ban.
I stretch my legs and point my toes,
making way for my gruesome woes,
I see them meandering out of it,
eroding hillocks of the darkest hues.
I get dragged into a different realm,
each word of the melody seeps through my skin,
they get manifested on my visage,
as I frivolously sauter and spin.
As perspiration runs down my forehead,
my soles become red and sore,
I free myself from the alluring grip of the tune,
and land with a sigh on the floor.
I take in a whole lot of liberty,
and respire utter bliss,
I feel as if placidity,
bends down over me to kiss.
That’s my way to catharsis,
in disguise it’s a boon,
embrace solitude for a moment,
and find yours one soon.

Pen friend

Under the starry sky,
and the moon bright,
as I sit on the lush meadows,
I get nudged to write.
Enveloped in tranquility,
embraced by solitude,
my pen writhes on the paper,
my heart brims with gratitude.
Amidst the turbulence of emotions,
I become hysterical,
I lose control over myself,
and sit down to write something cynical.
My heart nurtures each emotion,
gulps down my mind like a holy potion,
they maneuver onto the page through my nib,
if papers were lungs,my words were ribs.
With every twist, every turn,
every drag of my pen,
the boulder sitting on my chest,
sublimes as I ken.
On seeing a couple of pages,
caressing my sentiments,
and a couple of blank ones,
promising to be ears for my debilitating laments,
Indulgence cascades in with a flair,
as to vacuum rushes air.
Then pacification crams me,
and down I put my pen,
get ready for the day to come,
and be immersed in my bustling schedule again !

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