Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Match game chance, be it anywhere  on any land

                                                                       be it with sword or spear,bat or ball,  gun or lance,

forces have fought  in thicket and  on wicket
dauntless and bold, without fear,  songs  sonorous
have been sung, as arms raised , aimed and swung,
obdurate pride and steadfast hate in arenas Greek

or  Green  Grounds,  what  mighty  contest  up rising
For no  reason  just  or sound,  No crime no blast
 no war  no treason, just  another  cricket world  season,

But This Game is a Combat  on war like footing
Padded  gloved helmeted , ready for the  shooting

thick as Autumnal Leaves and sedge
                                                        Police and crowd will watch the match,
All around the fence , from the edge to edge,
how many will hold and breathe their last ,
                                                         as wickets fall, or hands miss a catch,

all eyes on Mohali the final battle ground
a place Eternal Justice ordained and bound

No Trojan Horse or Aegean Sea, no ship or gun                 
velvet green, a white orb, 



22 yards of  hit and run
to be weak on it  is unthinkably  miserable no contestant
spared, no mistake forgivable, who will  the  new possessor
be, Of a Cup,  One in a Game , One in Name , Just One!
Some say the Blues –some say the Greens -

The result is anxiously eagerly excitedly awaited
Whatever it may be , millions are awake , hearts
Beating , hands together in prayers,
The Best will soon be seen.
The aim is to protect the wicket  and make a high score
A game of skill , strategy entertainment a fight for sure
The rest is up to the Umpires two and the third
Above All it should be honest and fairplay-no ‘Trick It”
Or else it would really be a war –and ‘Not Cricket’
May The best Team Win-

Friday, March 25, 2011

A brief line, yet a complete letter,
Nothing, nothing could have been better,

fears dispelled  but, brought more tears
not of sadness, but of  joy,

pearls my eyes shed so many
metamorphosed to  a  tsunami
  crossing the ocean beaches,
and bonded fetters unseen,
washing away  the clinging  pain
I turn to the letter again
and again, speechless as more tears surge
with more joy, a few words sent
were for another’s joy meant,

two lines and a picture
made up my letter, 
but what came in return
teaches a lesson and
makes us learn,
words sincere and  said
truly from the heart
touch true feelings,
though tears may fall but

with even a brief letter
bring happiness and joy
an eternal treasure.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Growing Up with My Land  

Growing Up with My Land
Hand in hand, in My Land
I do but stand, on half the sand
My footsteps are invisible
Lost for me My Place of Birth
How can I celebrate in mirth?
What words can express
The joy of the aching heart
Real Freedom and True Friends
Do never Part-

Monday, March 21, 2011

Birds are chirping
the advent of Spring,
some trees are still bare
surely summer is closer
but first,
freshness and flowers
to awaken and share
Mariposa and the Tea Infuser.

Monday, March 14, 2011

ages ago
when it was dark

man sought the light
in stones
and made
use of bones,

ages ago
when lights were around

man learned to speak
and made
use of sounds,

ages ago
when there was peace
man found the trees

and made use
of leaves,

ages ago
                     when there were herds
man found the words

and tried to fly
like birds

ages ago
when life was chaos
man wanted order

and made
use of laws

ages ago
when life was tight
man sought calm

and something
to write.

Ages ago
When life was rough
Man wanted it smoother
mixed leaves and trees

And discovered paper,

not many ages
                              man is fed up,

wants some sense
to clear the mess
and make all world
less and paperless.