SURGE OF LIFE WITHIN

Orca

 

Somewhere in mountains high,

It is snowing again,

In soft soundless flakes,

As the snow leopard awakes.

 

Somewhere where the oceans heave,

The Orca bursts in wondrous leap,

Where the waves mingle and meet,

Under a night sky glistening sweet.

 

Somewhere in the jungles hidden and wild,

The tuskers bathe and spray in delight,

As the eagle owls take to sky and alight

On lingering trees sleeping mild.

 

In the swirling wispy mists,

The butterfly in groves of trees sleeps,

Opening it’s beautiful wings in dreams

To the surge of life within.

 

 

 

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SOMEWHERE, THE SUN IS RISING All THE TIME

Sunrise

 

Somewhere, the sun is rising
all the time;
Red gold splashes coloring the sky,
Myriad birds chirping in anticipation and delight;
Memories when unbidden come and sit by the side.
 
Somewhere, the sun is rising
all the time;
The morning jogger stepping up sprite,
The newspaper boy hurrying on his route-line;
Some brewing tea, coffee in sleep groggy;
While some already up and ready,
As others slumber in sleep aweary.
 
Somewhere, the sun is rising
all the time;
More so, in soul and mind,
Mixing, coloring, shifting shade and light;
What consciousness with each passing splinter of time !
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Rinku

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She is a maid,

Thirty to thirty-five

years of age.

 

Three of her children,

She left in the village,

And the other two are here

with her, in the slum near.

 

They were starved,

She says

And had to get away.

 

From her village already

have come so many

to this suburb here,

In a slum near.

 

Her husband she says

works in a place

some distance away

and visits sometimes,

But mostly at night.

 

About a month back,

Forlorn and wane

in our service lane,

Looking half dead;

She wanted work,

As a maid.

 

Like shadows in lament,

Her voice is faint

And her name is Rinku;

But by god, can she argue!

 

Our driver, a pundit,

The first thing he did

was to find out her caste;

Which is the bit

that in this universe vast

matters to him first and last.

 

She is of low caste,

This he

with satisfaction informed.

But she is alright,

further he said;

As he is of a heart

of decency large.

 

Rinku’s baby daughter fell ill

a week back,

As when did

also our baby girl.

 

Both the babies recovered,

But yesterday, Rinku said

that returning home in evening,

she found her baby shivering

in vomit and urine.

 

Rinku is a maid,

Thirty to thirty-five

years of age.

 

Three of her children,

she left in the village,

And the other two are here

with her, in slum near.

 

 

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Available also on amazon.com {In Kindle edition also. Please get a copy !! :)}

 

 

 

OF SOUL & LIFE

images


If ever I die,

That will only be a reprieve,

For I shall walk again and again

In mystifying forms of Life.

 

Keep the sparrows alive,

Chirping from tree to balcony,

And the beautiful butterfly,

That sips the nectar honey.

 

Keep the eagles soaring,

Kissing the Sun high

And the tigers roaring,

That gods bow to knees nigh.

 

Ah, the life that runs wild

Gambols, cascades, spirits

In fascinating forms of life.

 

Let them be alive

For if I ever die

That will only be a reprieve

For I shall come again and again

To walk the wonderful forms of life.

 

 

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Available also on amazon.com {Kindle edition also}. Do please get a copy !! 🙂

 

THE POLITICIAN BY THE BOOK & THE VIRTUOUS WOMAN

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You want to ride my ass,
Suck my big high tits,
And put in my mouth,
your little prick,
What will you pay
Sir, for all this?
No, that won’t do,
Shall I tell you what,
I shall strap on a dildo,
And ride your ass hard,
Then beat you with a stick,
Spit on you all over thick
What will you pay for this
You hideous fat pig ?
Bravo, now that is good,
You truly are a politician,
In keeping with the book!
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AVAILABLE ON AMAZON.COM [IN KINDLE EDITION ALSO]