Dr John Celes Poems

The drumstick-tree I thought was dead and gone
Is fully clothed by green leaves and flowers;
The bees are active and some fruits are born;
The tree awaits August’s Monsoon showers.
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You are on holy ground;
Take off your shoes, kneel down;
You will see God as light,
Which human eyes can’t bear.
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Each flower has some nectar for each Bee;
Each flower has some beauty rather deep;
Each flower has some perfume that is free;
Each flower makes the observer's heart leap.
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A Doctor-Bard of India, at last writ,
A thousand sonnets in a record time;
And soon his face will be on earth limelit!
God’s Muse’s gift will make his life sublime.
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Behold a beggar playing sad a tune!
By heart, on his own poor, old harmonium;
Though blind, he seems to be in God’s commune;
Alas! is this the new millennium?
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Man lives in sin, the moment he gets born,
And falls a prey to temptations so oft;
Unless his sufferings come and sound their horn,
To God’s haven, he will not turn his craft.
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That fruit tastes best which ripens while on tree;
The one ripened by artifice ain't good;
The one also rip’ning prematurely;
A natural time is needed, bud to fruit.
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Talent is something that none can erase;
It is always a God-given rich gift;
If you can nurture and become an ace,
None can prevent God's impending huge lift.
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When
Another babe is born!
And comes into this world;
Of poverty, pain, misery, woes, drudgery;
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God, thwart the moves of men with minds insane;
Their corruption has reached enormous heights;
And masking all their crimes, righteous they feign;
Ill-gotten wealth, giving them sleepless nights!
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