Zenith of Absurdity
Oh, how reposeful it is at dawn
Elated, I thought as I sat in my lawn.
Watching the Sun rising on the eastern horizon
And the blue canopy spangled pink and vermillion.
The crows and birds seemed to welcome
The daylight with a loud chorus
And orchestra. Dainty butterflies
With amazing patterns on their wings,
Gently alighted atop the upturned flowers.
It is the most magical and enchanting hour.
There was a gentle, caressing breeze,
Leaves were dancing on the trees.
I was reminded of Pippa’s song
All is well and nothing can go wrong.
But in my heart I knew better,
This feeling will last until I open the newspaper.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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On Hearing the Strains of Chirstmas Carols...
Gently woke up today
Hearing strains of Christmas carols,
Children singing far away…
Overcome with sense of joy,
I just listened with closed eyes
My spirits were Oh, so buoyed…
It stayed with me all day,
I hummed as I went about
My work, feeling light and gay.
Thus, this Christmas Eve
In true Christian spirit
I have come to believe,
Life itself is a gift.
Live it to the full...
All I want now is to lift,
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Reminscing on a Train Ride
The memories
Of the quaint retreat
Nestled in the hills,
After our wedding.
Bemused
I reflect,
How twenty years
Have fled.
Seated next,
A newly wed
Hand in hand
Slept,
Bride bedecked.
Her head
Slowly slipped
To rest
On her husband’s chest.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Before The Day Breaks
Its neither day nor night,
The sky is veiled with fading moonlight.
There is perfect peace and quiet,
Spiritual energy is at its height.
From the distance strains of Sufi music,
Aura in the air is mystic.
This is the best time to write,
As creative juices are at their height.
Just the sound of your breath moving in harmony,
Mind free of clutter, worry and acrimony.
You can hear the sound of pen
On the paper, as you write in a state of Zen.
I feel serene and sane,
And queen of my domain.
Slowly the night has withdrawn,
And ushered in the dawn.
Fresh ideas spawn
And I wander out to my lawn.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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A Nation wakes up in Joyous disbelief
As history is made in the American elections
The world watches with disbelief and fascination.
Some one asked me, is it good for our nation?
Rejoice, people are overcoming racial discrimination.
This is not the time to ask such parochial questions,
It is about rising above caste, colour distinctions.
come on guys, why can’t you see it’s a giant leap of hope
And faith, so please join in the jubilation and don’t mope.
one man, despite lack of experience dared to dream,
and the people who put faith in him, cry and beam.
An Afro American has defeated a seasoned white,
I salute the democracy and the people for their foresight.
Hey, will the name WHITE HOUSE under go change?
So the new occupant doesn’t feel awkward and strange…
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Child Labour
Social activists are going hoarse,
And forcing people to take off goods from stores
Made by child labour.
I wonder if they are doing any favour.
Has any body found answers?
Have you found a sponsor?
To help the poor who live below poverty line,
Crying foul is all very fine,
Who will provide them necessities?
So they can live in dignity,
Find a decent vocation,
Food, shelter, clothing and education.
It’s easy to cry foul,
And from rooftops howl
It’s against human rights,
Without a clue about their plight.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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A girl with curls...! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
I don’t like my curly hair.
Everyday I say a prayer.
God, please make my hair straight.
I want to make two long plaits.
Do you think He hears my plea?
Oh, she asked innocently of me.
Dear, you look truly like an angel.
But they are always entangled.
Please, please pray for me.
I want hair like you, you see.
Do you think He really loves me?
Darling, He loves everyone you see.
Then why did he make my hair curly.
He loves you very, very dearly.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Impermanence! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Am no poet, so I may sound trifle prosaic.
Had lessons in classical music, oh, so archaic
She stood with her slender hands on her slim hips,
Smoldering eyes, a smirk on her lightly painted lips.
I remember, you taught me to be honest.
So let me finish, before you comment.
Let it be clear, now my family comes first
Make no demands, when you are sick or hurt.
Come child, I will show you the door.
For a moment looked absently at the floor.
One doesn’t get care and love on demand
Thank God, I didn’t let down my guard.
My eyes drifted to my shelf that displayed Gibran
Time to refresh memory about what he said of children…
Bach also wrote if you love someone let them go and so on
Life is like a flowing river climbing over rocks and goes on…
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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There is Something about you...
What is it about you,
I just look
In adoration,
I watch in delight...
Am filled with devotion,
For the moments
By your side,
I don’t even want
To close my eyes…
I feel like a child…
Your silence
And compassion…
Your parlance
I get my salvation…
at times mischievous
sometimes solemn.
never ever
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Water Lillies
As I quietly enter
The portals of the Habitat center,
To attend the Delhi Poetree session.
I simply cannot mention
My sense of wonder and disbelief,
At spotting water lilies in the midst of glass and concrete.
The sight of half closed mauve flowers,
Growing in a pool of stagnant water,
Green serrated leaves afloat
My riveted eyes couldn’t fail to note.
Petals coming together at dusk as if in a greeting.
Perhaps, to welcome me to the meeting.
The sight filled me with ecstasy
I stood there awed by the beauty,
Pleased and filled with serenity.
This is poetry without words,
That can’t be heard.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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