The colors are achanging
the earth is aglow,
Everything was a luscious green,
not such a long time ago.
Now it’s yellow, scarlet, burgundy, ochre,
We aren’t very far from the white of snow.
The surface air has cooled off,
The heat of the earth seems to blow,
Through the tree trunks and into the leaves,
I can almost see it flow.
No more walking bare foot on grass
and no more skin show,
It’s time to cuddle up in blankets,
The winter is here saying hello.
Mujhe tod lena ban-mali,
uss path par dena tum phenk
Matra-bhoomi par sheesh chadhane,
jis path jayen veer anek.
Pluck me, O keeper of the garden,
And onto that path throw
To lay their lives for the motherland
On which several heroes go
– from ‘Pushp Kee Abhilasha’ (A flower’s wish) by Pt. Makhanlal Chaturvedi
And then I realised, I was the one who was diminishing their true worth, not the mere pasersby.
In the sweltering summer heat,
when even the roads are asweat,
I feel my legs are liquefied so,
this summer heat is going to make my body flow,
Like a tired old flower I wilt,
I try collecting myself together before I melt,
Cool cool icy water is a respite to my body,
but what about my eyes which feel so groggy,
Before I can liquesce any further, I spot you standing there,
Without meaning to, I begin to unabashedly stare,
You look so inviting, you are a pleasure to my eyes,
I feel as if for endurance of this heat, you are the prize,
Aah, looking at you makes me feel so fresh,
I peer futher into that yellow mesh,
‘Cause yellower than mustard and brighter than brass,
are your pretty petals – Amaltas.
Sitting at my window,
I can see the dark cloud,
I notice the silver lining for the first time,
it has me completely wowed.
The cloud keeps changing shape,
and looks different each time,
The darkness it seems to drape,
reminds me of a dilemma of mine.
The silver lining beckons me again,
only this time it seems to be clearer,
I realise too, that the problems are but small,
The main thing is the attitude of the bearer.
PS. Excuse the philosophical bent of mind as I composed this one minute poem.
I look out the glass window,
The sky so azure and blue,
A fluff of peppered clouds wafts by,
Oh! How I wish I could float too…
On the wings of nostalgia I fly,
and remember times gone by,
The scent of fresh air, the crystal clear panorama,
all remind me of an evening with you.
The way we were caught in a spell of rain,
huddled like sparrows were us twain,
In dearth of umbrellas, a tree was our shelter,
To prevent ourselves from soaking, we only huddled closer.
Times have gone,
The rains did too.
The rains have come again,
and I still miss you.
