The poet asthe philosopher

The craze for modernity and modern livingAnd the charms of itThat you have no time,Almost no time to look afterThe little sister of yoursExpecting your return,Ever waiting, ever expecting,When will eldest brother return to?Try to love your sister,Your small, but loving sister too,Not only feeling the pleasure of beingIn love with mad, mad, maddening belovedAnd…

Of dreamsTraverses she,Seeing the sea differentlyEach time,Treading backTo moorlands oftenA poetess ofThe daylight edging toIn a blue boatWith the soulFlung out,Springs of crystal watersFlowing,Clearing throughThe litter of trash.The whale-watcherFor an outingInto the hills, the woodsAnd by the seasideAll for a glare,The beauty of fair NatureAnd the mystery of the wild,Blue mountains.

Poets as contributorsTalking of the lockdownIn their own way.Sitting at homeAnd passing time leisurelyWithout moving outAnd just spending time to idle away.With the offices shut and closed down,Trains cancelled, buses stopped,With no business, no activity,Days are idling away.The virus, the pandemic,The infection, affectation,the spread from up to,The containment zone.The red zone, the orange zone, the…

To pull me down,DownFor no fault,Fault of mine?The, they, Gandhi,Gandhi,Flee you,Flee you, Gandhi,They are coming,Coming.The are coming,ComingTo pull you,You down,Topple you,Topple you down.Who, who, my, son?They, they,Gandhi.Who, who they?They, they the petitioners.And for what, what?What did you, Gandhi long ago?Who, who,My son,Who, whoAre theyComing,My, my son?

Printed spots,Slim and fastSaw I sitting.The beauty of the forest,The mystery of the wild,The miracle of CreationWas it the catSprinting through the forest.Cheetah, tigerly cheetahRunning, sprintingAll through the forestAnd the hillsBeautiful and picturesque.To see the tear-like streaksNear the eyes,The printed, spotted coat of itCovering itAnd it going.But the claw of it bloody,Bloody, brutal and bestialA…

In my bagIs a fact,If call I myself,How to prove it,Where the certificate ofRecognitionAs many question me,How to call you a poetAnd i say to them,Don’t call me?