A day of rarest mundane peace

Away from all the noise and fuss
Where no wounding question cuts
It floats along the gentle breeze,
Fragrant with that charming mood
When all things work as just they should –
A day of rarest mundane peace!

Which flows through heart in crystal streams
As like golden springtime dreams
That fill my heart with restful joy.

So in hope with words I try
To catch the day that’s passing by
So that I can when I may
Breathe again the peaceful day
Which in days of clouded sky
Will glow like gilded butterfly.

Musings of A Muted Cog

Endless whirl of turning wheels.
To and fro
To and fro.
I run my shift
And motor on
Knowing not where motion takes.

Moving as the muted cog
Roll on I in silent daze
And script anew a thousand tales
As ‘why’ and ‘how’ and ‘why not’s pour
And drown me down in pelting rain.

Clobbered with clauses
I yearn for a stop;
Finding instead
Reams of the same.

Flattened in pain still do I dream,
To fly and soar and breathe anew
Into the bliss of sunlit blue.

Sharp the whistle blows
And blinds me in smoke.

Endless whirl of turning wheels.

0r
(After “reams of the same”)
I marshal my words
And weave through my text
Dreams of a dawn
Unawakened yet.

Catch me if you can

“When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall
Then how should I begin
To spit out the butt-ends of my days and ways?”
--- T.S.Eliot

I juggle with the masks
And throw in one I like.
Now you take your call
And scan if you can.

I’ll only chuckle
And juggle all the way.

Cast your nets
And set out the traps,
Try as you may
I’ll still fly away.

Anthem of the Dwarf

A figure haunts my weary dreams.

From the darkest pits of time
It slowly rises as in smoke
And gently waving pensive arms
Casts a thousand-questions glance.

Out of time I grope about
In the vacant room of dream
And watch the slide of pouring sands
Which scream and tell me what I lost.

Out of ashes drenched with tears
Rose the blooming golden moon
And begged me then with open arms
To leap into a hope of bliss.

Tangled all in rotten weeds
I could only fall and sigh.

Caught in clock, I trudge along
And queue-up for my rationed joy.

Christmas Thoughts

I wonder what he would do
When asked to forgive
A creature who had killed
Hundreds in a day
With endless hate
And thirst for more!

I wonder what miracle
He with his love will conjure
And heal the wounded souls,
Who, charred for life
With bloody loss
Have lost the faith to hope.

I wonder without answer.

I only hope he comes
And cleansing all our souls
Of roaring storms
Of hate and rage
Lifts our hearts to light and peace
As like sunlit clouds in May.

I hear your hollow laugh;
Somewhere back, another blast.

Shades of Red

How does it feel
To vomit into silence
Crimson sheets,
Laden with emotion,
Written in haste?

I know I should have thought
And asked it much before.

Silence swiftly volleys back
With all the force rejections pack.
Shrapnel-phrases spear through,
And leave a leaking rotting wretch,
Grimly painted all in red.

Count the slowly dying days
And wonder how I made,
With all the blood and sweat I have
My arrow bed in red.

A Moment

Bathed in shining morning joy
I lose myself in beauty’s bliss;
Away from all the hue and cry
Lost in spells of loveliness.

Shining like the sunlit dew
Fleeting moments whisper by,
And caught in web of silent art
Grow and glow in memory.