What Remains To Tell

Everything else passes through time

Art alone remains to tell that story

Nothing remains except dust or slime

Everything else passes through time

Justice served for a crime in its prime

Bringing them down from fame and glory

Everything else passes through time

Art alone remains to tell that story

Time To Wake Up, Krishna!

Jai SriKrishna, wake up, its morning!

Look! Its time, the birds are cooing

Why, even the bees are up, and buzzing

Jai SriKrishna, wake up, its morning!

Humanity is lost in darkness pervading

Larks are flying, the cows are mooing 

Jai SriKrishna, wake up, its morning!

Look! Its time, the birds are cooing

  

trial of my first triolet on tell

In hope that you hear, I tell you dear

Life is but a bubble of joy if you let 

It brightens as you do well for all, far or near

In hope that you hear, I tell you dear

You can be loving and caring, do not fear

Be joyful as you care with love; grim nor fret!

In hope that you hear, I tell you dear

Life is but a bubble of joy if you let 

a Can Do Attitude

A broken vessel

Looks like a well

Bottomless, rimless pit

A broken shell

Has water full

Of residue from

Three rivers

One is dried up

Second needs to be born

Finding it’s way

Down the winding mountain

Third river being

Cluttered and unclean

Boil that water

Purify the filth

Redo the base,

Recover the edges

Dry it and save it

For future to shine

In the clear water

Undo the clutter

For the birds

For the butterflies

To flutter their wings

Carrying souls with a ‘Can do’ spirit

A Nonet Starts With Nine Syllables

On some days nothing seems to be right

Sometimes things go hazy or dull

Wishing it was shining bright

Day goes helter skelter

No reason or rhyme

Don't complain

Grin and bear

Dreamer

Gleam!

 

Shell

It’s a story of a well

In a remote place where the kings dwell

Girls couldn’t be in a shell

 

No matter it is three

Or a week into thirty three

It’s a girl, a Shree

 

While still in growing spells

Tissues and organs with tiny little cells

Bodies that can’t hear bells

 

Pulled out of slumber

From the mother's number

A bed of dark umber

 

There are thousands

Hanging in the deep seated bands

With no legs or hands

 

 Into the earth's womb

They travel into their dark tomb

Mom can not even comb

 

If by chance you hear

Baby girl’s cries, as the winds tear

With softness of a shear

 

‘Ma Lakshmi! the baby’s here!’

Alas in her world lasting a mere

Couple of cries to hear…

 

She is sent home

Into the milky ocean, with an Aum

Chanting as she drowns

 

Little does she know

The wells In that village show

Through the wind or snow

 

Not only to God’s name

But to the stars and soundless game

Those keep dumping the fame

 

There is no hiding

No, nothing dreading from abiding

It’s going sliding..

 

 

 

 

 

Music and Dance

What have you earned

Swirling around, round and round

With your tunes circling the earth 

To moon and back,

A million views, a million  feelings

Twining them around your little finger

Hey Krishna

What have you earned?

Krishna What have you learned and taught.

Once on the left

Once on the right

You touch lightly with your

 shining peacock feathers

As the wind blows continuously

With no break as you

Play my heart and think

It is your constantly 

Playing game of 'go

Seek and find' oh Lord Krishna!

What do you earn teaching and preaching

 from birds to calves to  creatures remaining

Joining hands in a circle and playing

Your Raaga raagnis of yore

Linking to the farthest and wishing

You are here everyday

To play and sway and realize

I am nothing more than 

A mound of clay,

That you beat to malliate me under the feet of fate

That keep playing thaa dir dir

Thana dir dir thaa dir dir thaat..

Taking away the best of kindred

Gone are the greatest performers

From Ravi Shanker to Alla Rakha, 

Gone are beyond Tansen or Bismillah Khan to Zakir Hussein

As you Play Your Murali,

Swirling the wind through our wind pipes 

letting the breath chant Krishna 

with every breath of mine to thine..

Life Is A Joy, Enjoy..

My first cup of tea, I was sipping,
Early on a lazy Sunday morning
Saw a young girl playing by the lake
All alone, neither assuming nor fake

She was jumping with joy
Seeing the ducklings walk by
As the mother duck lead the way.
In my book, joy is when work is done.

Since many a time work is still remaining
Pure joy is something that I need to realize..
Not concerned about deadlines, nor targets
That limit the creativity inside their groves
I need to remember the sheer joy of love

Loving the birds, animals and mother earth
Feeling the tiny raindrops drizzling on face
As I walk by the fountains or soak in the rain
Picking up the fresh flowers from the garden
Whatever I do, when nature's showing a heaven

Alas! My imagination cannot go far,
Since I have left my childhood so afar
Winning and losing is a play back then
Life adjusts into an unassuming routine
The spirit left behind, in timeless turbine

There are moments when one can rejoice
Life need not always be an island of thorns
However small that one might realize
Indeed a friendly gesture, will not just please..
It will be giving every hope and a life with roses

Emotionless although everything is a chore
I remember my life indeed was lively encore
Watching on lakeside some kids uproar
I realize the little girl is not alone any more,
My joy returned, as I felt happy unto my core