My Favorite Book

Many books fill my cupboard –
Each one, a portal to another world –
Books of stories and fairy tales
And books of verse to brighten the day.

But the one whose pages I adore,
The book I love forevermore
Was a gift by my grandmother –
A cookbook that she’d put together.

This book is my true blue friend –
My soul and tummy medicine.
Its pages are full of ingredients
And the methods of cooking them.

It doesn’t matter how my day has been,
If I’m over the moon or feeling sullen,
The food I make is fingerlickin’,
For there’s a recipe for every occasion.

This is a book I treasure the most.
The more I read, the more I explore.
It leads me down a neverending road
Of baking, frying, steaming, and more.

And what leaves me truly astonished
Is that there’s nothing like errors in it –
For an error is actually an opportunity
For me to cook up a yummy new dish.

Once Upon A Wall

The hunt is on,
And in the grasslands,
Stands a solitary mammoth.

The hunters close in
Silently and downwind
With coordinated movements.

At the leader’s signal,
They launch the attack
With their pikes and spears.

The hunt is a success,
And there’s enough food
For the entire settlement.

Later, they illustrate
The entire event
On the walls of their cave.

Maybe, to celebrate,
Or maybe as a guide
For future generations.

Walls – they may be built
Of lifeless stones,
Or bricks and cement.

Yet, they are alive
And are full of tales.
Yes, they, too, have a voice!

Like the walls of my home
That are due a renovation –
Of paint, a new coat.

As I unhang the photographs
And the paintings.
I feel myself going back

In time, to the memories
That I somehow left behind
And reminisce all the stories.

These are no longer objects
Of mere decorations,
But of my family, little snippets –

Of the times we cherished,
Of days spent together,
Of the people we miss.

This is the inheritance
That I’d leave behind
For my future generations.

Each one with a narrative
Very much like the drawings
On the cave walls in the ice age.

Is It?

Is it just a coincidence
That I keep running into you?
Our paths cross with persistence
Whenever I least expect it, too.

Is it just a coincidence
Or is it a divine intervention?
Is there a purpose in each instance
With a beautiful hidden intention?

Is it just a coincidence
That you make me so happy?
I am filled with a love so intense,
And you leave me head over heels.

Is it just a coincidence
That with you, I become different?
And it doesn’t need any evidence –
I bloom with your smiles so radiant.

Is it just a coincidence
Or are we meant to be together?
In this universe, and every dimension,
Are you my love, always and forever?

The Odyssey

The sailor set off on the ship,
A huge brown one with sails.
Cold and gusty were the winds.
White-crested were the waves.

Soon, they were in the high seas,
And the blue water turned white,
White as milk with blue frothy tips,
It rocked the ship from side to side.

The sailor rushed onto the deck,
But tripped on a barnacle and fell!
A pair of eyes peered back at him,
For he was standing on a black shell

Of a giant crab with giant red claws
That snapped at him as he gaped!
He dashed from side to side to dodge,
And tried very hard to escape!

Just as he thought his end was nigh,
There formed a twister in the sea.
It pulled him up into the sky so high
That the ocean’s edges he could see.

Then suddenly, he was free falling,
And a scream rose up to his throat.
He saw the white-blue waves rising,
And nothing on which he could float.

His screams did seem a bit familiar.
I thought I’d seen him somewhere.
Wait a minute! Is that me, oh dear,
Caught in the midst of a nightmare?!

Yes, I have never been happier
To have woken up in my warm bed –
A safe and sound landlubber
With an adventurous odyssey to pen.

The Yes Day

Yes, there are so many days
When the world celebrates.
Be it a festival or a relationship,
There’s a day dedicated to it.

Yes, I, too, want to create
A day that we all can celebrate.
A day on which we all agree
To say a “yes” to everything.

Yes, a “yes” day is needed
For all the people to see –
A “yes” brings opportunities.
It welcomes all possibilities.

Yes, I accept myself –
My strengths and weaknesses,
My past and my present,
And every fleeting moment.

Yes, I accept all I have,
And, also, all that I lack –
My blessings and my wishes
And everything that’s unfulfilled.

Yes, I accept all my days
Of happiness and sadness –
Days when I won and also lost
And the ones that bore a cost.

Yes, I accept the people I met –
Those that stayed; those that left.
With some, I laughed and shared;
Some left me broken and in tears.

Yes, today I celebrate
Everything that gave me shape –
They made me what I am today;
To them, a “thanks” is what I say.

Yes, a “yes” day would be great
If everyone celebrated it every day.
The world would be a happy place
As peace, in every home, would grace.

The Everyday Superwoman…Forever

The world may stir with the light of the sun.
I couldn’t care less, for her voice wakes me up at dawn.

The water in rivers may cleanse our souls.
I couldn’t care less, for every day, she gives me clean clothes.

The trees may work hard to yield fruit.
I couldn’t care less, for when I feel hungry, she cooks food.

The sky may be dark, stormy, and scary.
I couldn’t care less, for I sleep listening to her lullabies.

The breeze that blows may be life-giving.
I couldn’t care less, for she taught me the skills for the living.

The mountain may be rocky and tall.
I couldn’t care less, for she gave me the strength to rise after each fall.

The diamond may have a bright glow.
I couldn’t care less, for she makes me feel more valued and loved.

No, she doesn’t mean the sun, river, tree, sky, breeze, mountain, or diamond to me.

For the sun sets, the river dries up,
The tree withers, the sky darkens,
The breeze stalls, the mountain falls,
And, the diamond also turns to dust.

But yes, she’s my mother, a superwoman everyday…forever.

Golden Moments

Gold is the color of these moments.
Of the days spent in idyllic pleasure.
Leisurely, we’d set paper boats afloat
Down the streams in green meadows.
Evenings passed in carefree play, and
Nights were when grandma told tales.
Mom and dad would tuck me in bed.
On to the land of dreams, I’d then sail.
Memories of friends in photographs,
Each posing with smiles and laughs.
Nothing compares to those times.
Those were the best days of my life
Saved as remembrances in my mind.

PS: This is an acrostic poem. Join the first letter of each line and see what you get!

The End

It’s the end of the journey.
The flame clings to the last drop of oil
Carried by the last bit of wick.

While it lasted, it saw everything –
The white of lies, the grey of ambiguity,
The red of love, and the black of malice.

Now, its tiny yellow and orange shape
Casts a dim shadow on the wall
With no escape from its fate.

It struggles against the gusts of winds
Hoping for one more opportunity
To flicker, to dance wildly, to just breathe.

Slowly and slowly, it loses strength.
And its will also fades away
With each passing moment.

Then, with a final sigh, it gets snuffed
Released from all that it suffered
Curling into a wisp of smoke.

The last trace of the flame is gone
And with it, all the colors
Mingle into the vast azure calm.

Ashen Grief

Somewhere deep within my heart,
The garden we nurtured is ablaze.
The love we had was ripped apart
When you left me and went away.

The memories of us being together,
Each one, like a petal of a red rose.
All that we shared with each other,
Like creepers, entwined with hope.

And now, a raging wildfire blazes
Destroying each petal and leaf.
Everything I cherished, it erases,
Till all that’s left is ashen grief.

Days turn into months and years,
But the layers of grey still remain.
At times, a budlike illusion appears,
But it’s just a mirage evoking pain.

The Bee and the Rose

O! It was a scarlet shame!
The way they were together –
The bee and the rose blossom
In the small, fenced bower!

He couldn’t resist kissing her
As she trembled in the morning.
With her velvet petals unfurled,
She looked beautiful and tempting.

And she didn’t stop him either,
But delighted in his affection.
Yes, they were unabashed lovers
Who didn’t hide their passion.

“Oh dear me!” Said the Amaryllis.
“What blatant shamelessness!”
“Why, yes!” Nodded the peonies.
“Towards damnation, they’re headed!”

The chrysanthemums all whispered
“Something has to be done quickly.
What would our little buds learn
If this brazenness, they should see?!”

And they all tried hard in vain,
But couldn’t restrain the lovers.
And so, they’re still a scarlet shame –
The bee and the rose in the bower.

Crimson Fury

Rivers of blood;
Generations of blood
Lost to aggression
By men who are captive to borders
Drawn on maps with the pen,
By men who are slaves to religion
Written in books with the pen,
By men who are controlled by power
Assigned in offices with the pen,
The price of childhood and innocence,
Of freedom and peace is death.
I know not what is right in this world,
But I am sure there’s much that’s wrong.
So, when I die during this war,
Know that I regretted being helpless,
And bury me not in a patch of daisies
But in a field of red Cockscomb blooms,
Under the fiery red evening sun,
That I may rise again
With crimson fury in my veins,
And a pen that’s mightier than the mighty
That will rewrite the script of humanity
Not on paper, but in the souls of men,
That lives may not be snuffed again
Due to borders, religion, or power
And peace reigns over all, forever.

My Heart Beats For You

My heart beats for you
With a crazy jungle beat.
It goes a-dum-dee-dum-doo-doo-
Bid-a-bop-bop-bop-beep-beep.

My heart beats for you
And every time we meet,
Can you hear it, too?
Coz I see you tappin’ your feet!

My heart beats for you
With a special love so sweet.
With you, each moment’s new
As the beat plays on repeat.

My heart beats for you,
And it ain’t hard to see
That everything I ever do
Is so that you keep loving me.

My heart beats for you
Louder than a carnival on the street.
It goes a-dum-dee-dum-doo-doo-
Bid-a-bop-bop-bop-beep-beep.