Losses
It was not dying: everybody died.
It was not dying: we had died before
In the routine crashes-- and our fields
Called up the papers, wrote home to our folks,
And the rates rose, all because of us.
We died on the wrong page of the almanac,
Scattered on mountains fifty miles away;
Diving on haystacks, fighting with a friend,
We blazed up on the lines we never saw.
We died like aunts or pets or foreigners.
We Ain'T Got No Money, Honey, But We Got Rain
call it the greenhouse effect or whatever
but it just doesn't rain like it used to.
I particularly remember the rains of the
depression era.
there wasn't any money but there was
plenty of rain.
it wouldn't rain for just a night or
a day,
it would RAIN for 7 days and 7
nights
A Lover's Quarrel Among The Fairies
A moonlight moor. Fairies leading a child.
Male Fairies: Do not fear us, earthly maid!
We will lead you hand in hand
By the willows in the glade,
By the gorse on the high land,
By the pasture where the lambs
Shall awake with lonely bleat,
Shivering closer to their dams
Y/. The Golden Key (A Sonnet)
One day, I want to melt all gold on earth
And make a wonderful key with it all
This special key of incredible worth
Will be fit to unlock your heart and soul
The remote buttons will work like a smile
Like a lawine of sweet and loving words
I will turn that key with a manly style
And happy thoughts will fly to you as birds
A simple turn of the sweet golden key
Just like a wonder, magic fun and true
Cats All Over
Everybody loves beautiful cats
They have proved worth as pets
Nothing so special but liked by most
Help to build relation if they are frost
She may come gently and move around
I too see in her new companion found
Rubs my back and makes round
Prefers to sit me on the lovely ground
Winter And Hope
First snow atop the hill
sends a chill to the spine
it melts down all hopes
for the morning sunshine
men, women, pets and cattle
bit dismayed, amidst lull and calm
iced winds, blades cutting through
yet into a storm it has not brewed
hordes of men hurry and store
piles of extra wood and grass
.black Is Beautiful
Every morning in the deep woods of the concrete jungle
With my near and dear ones I sing a coarse musical,
Humans raise from their good night sleep with a frown of unpalatable
They call me ‘Crow’ and express their acerbity with a scowl,
I fly in search of food and material for shelter near and far,
When Lonely On my way in search of food, humans I remember
For their frown I see whenever I tried to sing melodious tunes resembling of guitar,
For the dislike they bestow for Black color which symbolizes darkness, which they fear
Canine Feline Friendship - Part I
CANINE FELINE FRIENDSHIP – PART I
Once our tom-cat brought to our house,
As honoured guest, his feline spouse.
Have some milk” he offered.
“ Mere soup for me? ” she thundered.
“For dinner go and get me a mouse! ”
Our poor Tom went, then, a-hunting;
From kitchen to store he kept shunting.
Green Fields
By this part of the century few are left who believe
in the animals for they are not there in the carved parts
of them served on plates and the pleas from the slatted trucks
are sounds of shadows that possess no future
there is still game for the pleasure of killing
and there are pets for the children but the lives that followed
courses of their own other than ours and older
have been migrating before us some are already
far on the way and yet Peter with his gaunt cheeks
Death And Dying Words Of Poor Mailie, The
The Author's Only Pet Yowe
An Unco Mournfu' Tale
As Mailie, an' her lambs thegither,
Was ae day nibbling on the tether,
Upon her cloot she coost a hitch,
An owre she warsl'd in the ditch:
There, groaning, dying, she did lie,
When Hughoc he cam doytin by.
Canine Feline Friendship - Part Ii
Canine Feline Friendship - Part II
(This poem was composed in 1995. My dearest Julie is now no more)
Meanwhile came our jet-black Julie -
Priceless canine treasure, truly!
One day, the thrown-out pup,
At our gate turned up
To join our pets' increasing family.
The mildest thing on earth, when mild,
A Chicken Is Not A Bird
A chkn na be a byrd
Acord'n folk lvn in flori da
Kep'n and own'n be difernt
If be a tigr or sknk kept
An' a' th hair cutn shp r paloor for trm
Word is one's pets is one's own prblm
So be it, tha list of crtures kept, grws lngr by da
Cept'n when are feral, as n dog and ct stray
Thn becms nuher mat'r
For nebors blathr.
You Gasped
Keep the chair, the pets,
the artwork, the antiques
and I'll even throw in the garden hose
Just as long as my fate, a rose
In your hands bleeds hope
and crouches underneath
the memories of togetherness
that dispel insecurities, prowess-
A Thought On Thought
I think that all higher animals - primates, mammalian and ornithic pets, etc. 'think' to a certain extent.
Why do I think?
There is no alternative.
I am condemned to think,
To be obsessed with thinking—
But so is my dog.
Diwali A Festival Of Love And Light
Diwali is a festival of love and light,
Its aim is to live in peace, not in fight.
It is celebrated to recall memory of Lord Ram,
People with sacred body offer God psalm.
Diyas hold a special significance of Diwali ever,
It symbolises removing darkness and victory over.
People of India do Lakshmi Pujan on the day of Diwali,
They keep thirteen diyas in different places gradually.
From Bombay Central
The Saurashtra Express waits to start
Chained patiently to the platform,
Good pet, while I clamber in
To take my reserved window seat
And settle into the half-empty compartment’s
Cool; the odour of human manure
Vague and sharp drifts in
From adjoining platforms.
The station’s population of porters,
Stall-keepers, toughs and vagabonds relieve themselves
Jock
There's a soldier that's been doing of his share
In the fighting up and down and round about.
He's continually marching here and there,
And he's fighting, morning in and morning out.
The Boer, you see, he generally runs;
But sometimes, when he hides behind a rock,
And we can't make no impression with the guns,
Oh, then you'll hear the order, "Send for Jock!"
Yes -- it's Jock -- Scotch Jock.
He's the fellow that can give or take a knock.
Screw-Guns
Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool,
I walks in my old brown gaiters along o' my old brown mule,
With seventy gunners be'ind me, an' never a beggar forgets
It's only the pick of the Army
that handles the dear little pets -- 'Tss! 'Tss!
For you all love the screw-guns -- the screw-guns they all love you!
So when we call round with a few guns,
o' course you will know what to do -- hoo! hoo!
Jest send in your Chief an' surrender --
My Life In The Virtual
I always live in the virtual
For each moment I live
Becomes a past the next moment
Beyond my reach.
Refugee
There were fury, fire, bombs and bullets
Army, terrorists, death and darkness
No water, no food, only deadly dance of death
They were leaving behind their dear homes and land
Leaving their cattle, dogs pets and food orchards
Their dreams shattered, they leave behind all treasure
They had no time to collect them, no means to carry them
Someone carrying his crippled son on his shoulder
Some one carrying his old father and a baby clinging to his mother