A Moment of Happiness

Of all the moments in a day,
the only moment of happiness
is when I ponder on Your Name
as I send to You my prayers.

With You, I can see so clear –
the rainbow in each drop of rain.
You are the reason I can hear
the songs hidden in silence.

With Your blessings, I can sing
hymns of Your miracles and glories.
Your Word is the Light shielding me
from the Stygian tentacles of Sin.

Every breath I take is Your plan.
To You I will return in the end.
O Lord! Make me Your Instrument.
Give me this reason for happiness!

Who’s That?

Who’s that a knock-knock-knocking
at the valves of my heart?
Like the raindrops a drop-drop-dropping
making me want to dance.

Whose name is a drum-drum-drumming
in the corners of my mind?
Like a tune that’s a hum-hum-humming
on my lips all the time.

Who’s that a smile-smile-smiling
in my sparkling eyes?
Like the moon that’s a shine-shine-shining
keeping me up at night.

And if you are a guess-guess-guessing –
Who that special person could be?
The one who sets me a spin-spin-spinning
is you…yes only you…my baby.

The Superpower

Grains of sand make a wasteland –
unforgiving and unworthy of living.
Blades of grass form a grassland –
with scenes that are unchanging.
Trees, sod, birds, flowers and bees –
it takes these to create a garden.
And songs would lose their appeal
with just one note instead of seven.
It’s true that the differences are many,
but together, there are possibilities.
It was never ever about “you or me”.
The superpower is in “you and me”.

To My Mother

It’s impossible to celebrate
your love in a single day.
It’s impossible to show gratitude
for this life with one thank you.
It’s impossible to speak
about all you’ve done for me.
It’s impossible to compare
your sacrifices with anything else.
And if the word impossible is
found only in a fool’s dictionary,
then I admit that I’m that fool,
for it’s impossible to describe you.
And in the end, this is all I say –
That I will celebrate you every day.

The Upside-Down Man

There once was a man
who lived upside-down.
And people in his town
called him a silly clown.

He walked on his hands
with his hat on his feet.
It was a funny sight as
he “strolled” in the streets.

He’d sit down to eat in a
manner that was peculiar
with his head on the chair
and both his legs in the air.

As if this was not enough,
he spoke in a weird tongue
in which all of his words
were backwards strung.

So in the market, as he said,
“Lard of pound a need I!”,
he ended up getting punched
and a pair of black eyes.

And there was that day too
when he asked a pretty lass,
“Please me with dance you would?”
What do you think she did next?

The girl frowned, and well,
she whacked him on his head,
and then off she quickly fled
after calling him ill-bred!!!

Then, one wet, rainy evening
while “walking” up the hill,
he slipped and came rolling
down like the ball in skittles.

His head hit a hard rock,
and in a hospital he woke,
but in a miracle of sorts,
he had been fully cured.

So this is the end of the story
of the strangest man in town.
He now makes people happy,
in the circus, as a clown.

Comma Rules!!!

Because it would not serve any cause
for words to be read without a pause,
here comes a mark with a superpower,
and you can call that hero – A Comma!

It is always up and ready to assist
while separating the items in a series
like the list you’d use when you visit
a shop to get bread, milk and cheese.

Sometimes, it makes an appearance
in such a series before the conjunction.
Here, it’s known as the Oxford comma
as in alpha, beta, gamma, and delta.

It springs into action in a sentence
between clauses that are independent.
So it would then be correct to write –
the night is dark, but the moon is bright.

It separates the main part of a sentence
from an introductory clause or phrase.
As in – when I stepped out of the door,
I tripped on my cat and fell on the floor.

If there is a phrase or clause that isn’t
important to the meaning of a sentence,
then the helpful Comma encloses it all.
As in – Ben, the first one, had a great fall.

It jumps in to set off direct quotations
said by the speaker in conversations.
As in – Chloe said, “I wish I could fly
just like the birds in the blue sky.”

When writing a date, it’s used in a pair
to separate the year from the sentence.
As in – Years ago, on August 8, 1928,
June said “I do” to John as they wed.

If a title follows a name in a sentence,
then it is set off by Commas in a pair.
As in – Sandra Smith, MD, will now lead
the team in the department of pathology.

And numbers greater than four digits
are split by Commas into groups of three.
So start from the right, and you’d write –
100,000,000,000 stars in our galaxy!!!

Now you’d think that a pause in speech
is where the Comma is placed correctly,
but it would do you a world of good
if you remember the rules of its use.

The reason for that is simple, you see.
We all pause differently when we speak.
If you place Commas using your breath,
they’d be incorrect and make no sense.

A Love Poem

Love me forever like
the wind loves the rain;
like the warp loves the weft
in a long woven train.

Together, we’re the best
like wine and cheese;
a meld that allures
like musk and sweat.

Love me endlessly like
the cold loves the winter;
like the Sun loves the Earth
in this vast universe.

Love me with a love
that’ll always be true,
for this is exactly how
I will love you too.

Musings on Holi

Bright yellow sunbeams
falling on green leaves.
Silvery bits of moon rays
on midnight-blue waves.

Crimson rose blossoms
in the white, winter snow.
Violet, indigo, blue, green
yellow, orange, red rainbows.

Dusty brown, winding trails
in the dark-olive, misty hills.
Pink and lavender shades
when the vermillion Sun sets.

Flame-like Gulmohar flowers
and saffron Tesu in summers –
Undoubtedly, all of these are
some of our favorite colors.

So this Holi – let it not be all
about playing with Gulaal,
but let us celebrate Nature
and everything that is Hers.

Happy New Year

As ole Father Time
dodders to a new year,
the whole world unites 
to celebrate and cheer.

For some, it’s parties
with music and dance.
For others, it’s gifts
with love and romance.

For some, it’s banquets
with seven courses.
For others, it’s fireworks
with sky-lit auroras.

But tonight, I’ll count
all of my blessings.
And thank the Lord
for all His miracles.

For you are one of them.
You make it worthwhile.
You’re one of the reasons.
You mean a lot in my life.

So, it is with gratitude
that I say to you my dear –
Thanks for all you do
and a Happy New Year.

Christmas Day

Can you name this special day?
His Son was born today.
Rejoicing and with happiness,
I sing songs to celebrate.
Stockings on the mantelpiece,
Tinsel shining on the Trees,
Mistletoes with their red berries,
And striped canes of candy,
Silver bells ringing as they sway,
Dancing lights from lit candles,
Ask the angels, and they all say,
Yes! Yes! It’s Christmas Day!”

You Cannot Die

Your will is like the nishan of Ram
in the battle against the evil Ravan.
Your blood flows in your veins like
the Ganges surging with all her might.
You are the tiger that Ma Durga rides –
it’s strength and power personified.
You can create, protect and destroy
just like Brahma, Vishnu and Shivay.
You secure your motherland with
the Lakshman-rekha of your life.
You bear the weight of each minute
of freedom like the immortal Anjaneya.
You are not just your parents’ child,
but Bharat Ma’s wish that came to life.
Your every breath keeps Her alive.
You are Her soldier; you cannot die.

My Mother, My Angel

In the small sunny balcony
that faces the western hills,
on one breezy, summer day
Mom kept some pots of clay.

In all those, she sowed seeds –
Carrom, mustard and chillies.
Then there were some more
with spinach and tomatoes.

A special pot held the Tulsi.
In two, red-rose bushes grew.
And in a few, with large leaves
grew the ornamental varieties.

That’s a lovely garden in a flat!
What more could one say to that?
But there are things more beautiful
that Mom cultivated in my soul.

The seeds of “Happiness” and “Hope”
have grown like great green oaks.
The “Never Give Up,” with strong roots
has spread deep into my attitude.

A special rambler called “Love”
yeilds buds redder than blood
on the spiraling stalk of “Prayer”
that shoots right up to the heavens.

While bunches of “Music” and “Wit”
speckle the hedge of “Do Your Best.”
As the keeper of this sacred garden,
she waters and prunes every day.

Wouldn’t it be correct to state, then
that she’s the Gateway between
the Mortal me and the Divine?
My Mother – my angel in disguise.