How delightful to give in to an impulse! ! ! ! ! !
Driving past
A marketplace
Spot a balloon seller.
On an impulse,
I parked the car,
A little excited,
Hurriedly alighted.
How much for all?
I asked, as I watched
The shapes he had
Painstakingly given;
Apple for green,
Heart for a red,
Round for yellow.
Some even had freckles.
Mam, twenty rupees
For all.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Man's Quest - Sonnet! ! ! ! !
Our every desire might not be fulfilled.
Enjoy the journey to destination.
What, if you feel life is far from idyll.
Must go on with the best affirmations.
Never give up on your dreams, carry on.
The mask you don should just never slip down.
Say your prayers in earnest every morn
Hopefully; go through life with smile, not a frown.
When it gets rough take one day at a time.
Be kind to self, don’t pity or condemn.
Surrender to him just before bed time.
Remain upbeat, what, if you have to feign.
The turmoil starts man’s search for meaning.
Was God’s intention from very beginning.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Something's gotta give! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Am being sent to, sent to
A fine finishing school
For a refresher course
for a refresher course
In minding Ps and Qs.
So off I am
so off I am
To Swiss embassy
Oft heard they can
Oft heard they can
Turn a clot into a swan.
into a swan...
Once I have a glimpse
I have a glimpse
Of those snow clad hills.
Am bound to, am bound to
forget my lofty mission
Take an instructor and go skiiiiiiiing.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Affluenza
Affluenza is the new affliction.
It is a fact, not fiction.
Everyone has increased his pace
To join the rat race.
Credit cards and banks offer loans
On the telephone.
Car, home on EMI
At your earliest you must buy.
Malls everyday multiply
It’s a question of demand and supply.
24/7 advertising blitz,
Decisions makers are the kids.
A very dear friend
In a moment of weakness confessed,
Retail therapy is worth a try
When low, it gives a high.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Perseverence
Sharing
A one room
Tenement,
He toiled
When the family slept.
He sat
On the kitchen floor,
And did his calculations
On the bare floor,
With a piece of charcoal.
Calm resolve on his face,
Couldn’t care less
What the others
Had to say to demotivate.
He had a vision.
Dearth of means
Didn’t waver,
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Who is Making so much Noise...
Please be quiet…
Why is there so much noise?
Don’t raise your voice.
Please I want peace…
Will you please pay heed?
Desperately some quiet I need.
Please listen to my plea…
I don’t want to blow my fuse
No one will be amused.
Please I want some rest…
Go else where and leave me alone,
Promise, I won’t feel forlorn.
Well, well, I surrender…
I said with a shrug,
Hand me ear plugs.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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My Mind
My mind,
I find
Is not
The most interesting place.
The realization
Hits me in the face.
I am amazed,
I have allowed
It to control
My days
And nights,
Even my dreams
When I sleep.
Oh, now I know,
Why they say
Meditate,
To achieve
A state of stillness
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Going Back in Time
On a visit to my home town,
I don’t know after how long.
I was struck by the old world charm,
People seemed serene and calm.
I went to all my favourite haunts
And caught up with old sweet hearts.
Years had lapsed, but we felt as if it was yesterday,
We recalled what fun it was on our birthdays.
We laughed and talked till wee hours,
As it got cold we lit a bonfire
And teased and mocked as if were children.
Growing up then was a real fun.
Our needs were few,
Perhaps, that’s all we knew.
There was a wonderful simplicity of desire.
Nostalgically we recalled as we saw the dying fire.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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In the deep Recesses of my Heart! ! ! ! !
I have built a temple
In the deep recesses of my heart,
To which I withdraw
When I don’t want to take part,
In the cacophony around me.
I feel terribly distraught;
Nation is full of angst and fear,
Thrown out of balance, peace is sought.
It’s a place of utter bliss,
Where I feel pure joy.
Ever since, I learnt to do this
My spirits remain buoyed.
The sanctum sanctorum within,
Helps me remain poised.
Connect with myself and Him,
Handle life with great sangfroid.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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A child's plea- for you, of you, to you! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Fog, fog, go away
Want to go out and play.
Please, Can’t bear the cold.
Am just six and a half years old.
Been waiting for hours and hours.
Nose pressed against the glass.
My feet are getting numb,
am feeling, oh, so glum.
Need the warmth of Sun,
And go out for some fun.
Mama makes me wear gloves,
Can’t feed the lovely dove.
Or else shall slip in bed
Read about the gingerbread.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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