The Star, the Magi’s
The Swaddling clothes and the Shepherds
The birth of Christ to Mary and Joseph
Was, but, the beginning of God’s Mission!
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A METRO …
Today it is a crowded city
It is a metro I paint
Busy, busy the city itself
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Unfurrowed fields unfold
Forever beneath our feet
Green stubbly grass below
Stretches as far as eye can reach
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“Life is nothing! Life is nothing! ”
Ceasing never, cries the voice deep within.
Dust we are, to dust returneth
Clay in clay recomposes.
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[My poet-friend, Sangeetha Mundhra submitted this poem in desidirectory.com I am posting it here on her behalf]
By Sangeeta Mundhra
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The Cobbler who mends our shoes
Does he wear Chappals any day?
Full of wounds and runts are his hands
Is there anyone to rub oil for him each day?
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You ask me to tell you
'Which of yours I should read'
I am a greedy selfish one
Don't you know it will wrench
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Love –
It grows but never ages
Though it blooms
It never withers,
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The thirsting Soul inside each man
Is unique in its mould craving
For its own imagined goals
Unfettered by barriers it is allowed
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Did you miss me, dear friend
Tell me, did you miss me, true?
Did you miss me like a Jasmine
Misses the moon and so closes
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