We Are Nearing The Shore
Beautiful is that distant shore
Flourishing with lavish lush verdure
Tall trees in tune with wind’s tremolo
Are swaying their heads in wild gusto
As if saying no to all worldly woes
Flitting white doves in free skies
And glittering silvery sands; all encore
Seem to be vowing peace, comfort and more
That is the haven we’re trying to discover
The ultimate Utopia of Thomos More!
Ahoy! My fellow rowers of ‘Bharat’ boat
Let not sloth rust your grits
Rest not yours oars even for a minute
Let sweat evaporate; of few more droplets
Let brawn burn into some more effort
There! Great future is well within our sight! ! !
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Lost Faith
Man lost faith in fellow men;
Their thoughts, acts, words and virtues
In a world of mutual mistrust
Scepters ruled mighty kingdoms
Idols ruled human hope and wisdom
Statutes, rules and codes today
Are etched on papers vows
Words of mouth go with the wind
Prefer we walking on jotted lines
Man against man is pitted
In a cobweb of scribble-jumble
Orals lost credence; writings gained muscle
Words or writings are of what vouch?
When human ethos is in pathetic crouch
Was this the man; the Divine did plan?
What a shame to be called a human;
Sans being humane, a quality God did sow
But alas! Man never allowed it to grow! ! !
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Driftwoods
Grateful ever I’m
Crating reminiscences
From ever-evanescing hours
Like precious fossils
From receding marine streams
Nescient of times ahead
What else to opt for?
Clueless are humans of
The impending divine deluge
Whether a shower of nectar
Or a surge of venom
Staring at the ‘future’
Congealing as ‘present’
And the ‘present’, freezing as ‘past’
Floating in muted patience
Only rudderless boats we are
Wafting the waters of time
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poem by Sathya Narayana
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1+1=1
I dispute his permutations
At least twice a day; him, I curse
Me; he often pinches and wrenches
Well! I understand his compulsions
He too does sympathize my follies
Again, we laugh off our excesses
Runs thus our rollercoaster romance
Yet, lingers a feeling of emptiness
I asked him, “Why this gulf between us;
Aren’t we very, very close friends;
with consensus of minds? ”
He smiled, “You understand me. Yes.
But you don’t know me in essence”
I asked, “Hey! What is the difference?
Both words sound me in same sense
When do I know you in wholeness? ”
Trickled down HIS words mysterious
“When you become I, and I …..you”
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Portrait
PORTRAIT
A lurid looking impasto indeed
With grisly colors dappled all over
Like puddles of cuddled blood
Daubs of violent reds! Gloomy black patches!
Erotic blues and skinflint browns!
Resigned auspicious yellows,
Ashen virtuous whites and
Paled prosperous greens
He is often slipping his palette
Dripping the hues and tripping the easel
His lines running in zigzag jumble
Drawing He, with his quivering quill
The frazzled veteran Artist of unknown origin
“Your mighty hand must be aging! Oh my Master!
Muster your energies to depict on Earth
Your best ever portrait to reinvigorate
Your original beautiful oeuvre in whole for ever”
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poem by Sathya Narayana
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Call Me Not A Poet
Call me not A poet
It’s a shame to Shelly and Scott
A disgrace to Wordsworth and Frost
And heart-broken will be Homer and Tagore
Don’t embarrass those all time greats
Now sitting in the Lord’s court
Crooning their best ever cantos
In elegance, ex tempore
But I have an earnest hope
One day, one of those of my idols
Will sure by an accidental glimpse, from heavens
Catch me, standing on this Earth
With my hands stretched out
Trying frantic, to touch at least one star
In the vast poetic yonder
And make an affectionate chortle
Encouraging my puerile endeavor
It’s all! Enough for me to set on
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poem by Sathya Narayana
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Suppressed Truth
SUPPRESSED TRUTH
In your naïve, delicate heart
Effervescing are outlandish myths
By sitting in that darkness at length
Your mind too is daubed
With the Stygian hue
Remove once the curtains
Allow the Sun of reality in
Bask for a while in His shine
In seconds it will be your turn
To scintillate with a new élan
You have an intimate mate
His name is hope
You have an inherent instrument
It is none other than effort
They are your arms and ammunition
To fight this life long trepidation
Let me whisper you one secret
Take no note of your enemy’s might
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poem by Sathya Narayana
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Shame, Shame
Raunchy rapists, rancorous garroters,
Gangsters, mobsters and white collar cheats are
Sure and secure in political shelters
Bad cops are busy carting homes, dirty grafts
Good cops are kept to guard lords and blackguards
Laws are interred deep under money vaults
Justice jerks, shirks to retch out of courts hearts
Mistake not; rule of law hasn’t come to a halt
Look at those piled up cases, cunning touts
And remorseless lawyers ruling the roost
And those cracking lathis on the weak backs
Of beggars, rikshapullers and street hawkers
Scared commoners dare not even stare
At the reigning outrage
How can an odd poet react; but to catapult
Letter darts; let someone read them or not
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Living With Enemies
Gone were the days of enemy warriors
Who came to you with thrusted busts;
Looking into your eyes straight
Shouted mighty challenges for combat
Exists now a different enemy set up
Of sweet talking foxes besetting you
Their words shower flowers
While their minds grind swords
With or without any reason
Wittingly or unwittingly
You are now riveted to rivalry
When you walk innocently in street
There goes a stealthy stab into your ribs;
Or a gunshot from behind your back;
Or just a bomb or land mine to consume you
How many of you realize?
In spite of your daily prayers
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poem by Sathya Narayana
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My Sweat
MY SWEAT
Educated in English convents
They made cool abodes
As their working precincts
Lawyers, engineers, doctors
Computer laurates
And smart bureaucrats
All this lucky lot
Living at money jetting fountains
Are devouring their fortunes
To downright fulfillment
I followed my father’s school
By going to the paddy fields
And dredging eight hours
For a mere fifty rupees
I never grudge my affluent brethren
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poem by Sathya Narayana
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