Holy Blunder

Clouds in the skies; clouds in the skies; clouds, clouds
Clouds in the skies; some clustering; some cluttering
Some straying; some strewing; all in one yonder
Like free floating vices and flouted virtues

Amongst myriad murky Stygean stratus
One cumulus, shining bright and smiling white
Like a lucky rich man amongst fated poor
Leering, jeering, raving in sway and sashey

“My one misdirected beam made him gleam”
Bemused waning God Sun, “how this happened
Of one breed are all clouds; running in them same
Vapour-blood; façade is due to my light shed”

“Oh! Idiotic white clouds! This is not good!
Don’t swagger because of my one holy blunder
On the day apocalyptic winds wiggle
Every cloud has to melt down into drizzle”

poem by Sathya Narayana
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Jayahoo

Sipped he, music with his mother’s milk
Mum and music notes; he liked alike
His playful childhood he toddled over bands
Of fiddles and keyboard glockenspiel

Stood at last as a proud victor
On the world-pedestal of original score
Hoisting Indian genius and glory high in skies
Flaunting and fluttering in tri-color pride and
Free flying doves of dreams that came true

Carrying on his shoulders double Oscars
Walking in style, he, on the musical road he paved
Vanguarding millions of Indian youth
Shouting ‘Jayaho’, ‘Jayaho’; Praying
‘Maa thujhe salaam’, Ma thujhe salaam
Bowing to Mother India as a worthy son
Offering his supreme win as lovely psalms

(Original Telugu poem by: Perugu Ramakrishna)

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poem by Sathya Narayana
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Deadlock

Mother! Tell me what is behind those doors
Late father averred there is a treasure
A microcosm of whole world’s splendour
An extravagent elegence of nature’s allure
But warned me not to open the doors
Unless and untill I am doubly sure

Mother wept and said, “It is a deadlock
By blunders of your forefathers; did choke”

Mother tell me what is behind those doors
I hear deadly thunders, shrieks and shouts
And plangent whimpers of unseen spirits
I smell something noisome and nausiating
As if coming from a mass burning of pyres
Whenever I look at those queer doors
My heart hammers with unknown terror
Why mother? Why? Tell me! Why?
What is behind those doors?

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poem by Sathya Narayana
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New Road

There‘s no shame in exhibiting love
No fame exuding hatred
We’re both trudging through tough trough
Let us call a spade a spade

What’s a bit of land one can’t plough?
For which, we’re getting red
There’re barren bellies millions! Sow
Seeds of hope, loads of bread

Weren’t we birds of one be’utiful bough
Broke who; our nests of gold?
Few rogues commanding our bows
It‘s time high we get bold

Let us flee out of these foul rows
Of malicious folds
And make deal of ideals above
Faiths, fears, cults, creeds and God

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poem by Sathya Narayana
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The Truth

During the scalding summer, how much
We yearn for a chilling morn drizzle
When in the bone biting winter lurch
Don’t we pray for a sunny sizzle?

Which season man can bear; I marvel
Without a demur, to its full run
Yet swaggers he with synthetic preen
That he conquered the nature’s riddle

Come storm, Tsunami or some crisis
Man at last comes to his consciousness
Amidst falling contraptions of his
False conceptions and failed finesse

Whence sprouts from the ruins of reason,
Rationale and dialectics; the Truth
The vital Truth; that’s beyond his breadth
To see, feel, deal, conceive and reckon

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poem by Sathya Narayana
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Oh My Splendour

You bring me back,
oh my young splendor,
the springs I lost
And echo in my ears
the sweet melodies
of cuckoos I heard last
In my dream garden
new leaves sprout,
Exotic hues blossom
On a floral ramp of roses,
jasmines and chrysanthemums
I see you walking with a beam
clad in a white silk sari
That is flying and fluttering
in air carelessly
With all airs about
caressing your silkier skin

When you sashay towards me,
like Vana Devatha

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poem by Sathya Narayana
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Waning Life (Terzenella)

When you opened your eyes you found you’re old!
Your dreams remained unfulfilled, thoughts still crude;
Wizened, your hands are quivering with cold! !

Not long before you were in sprightly mood.
You thought of wading through the oceans blue.
Your dreams remained unfulfilled, thoughts still crude.

Of life and death you thought of finding clues!
To end the wars and find the peace, you mused! !
You thought of wading through the oceans blue! ! !

Now mind is creased; imagery is bruised;
Your pen is blunt and papers turned brittle!
To end the wars and find the peace, you mused! !

You churned and creamed the life, but too little!
When you opened your eyes you found you’re old! !
Your pen is blunt and papers turned brittle;
Wizened, your hands are quivering with cold! ! !

poem by Sathya Narayana
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Prophesy

The holy prophesies will sure come true.
No time the humans find to grieve and rue.
The darkest nights will glow with infant Sun
and days will cool with Moon in vibrant run.

His advent; skies are crooning, oh listen.
O' see the hopeful smiles of stars glisten.
Behold the rivers flow with glitzy glow;
hearken the oceans roar "Jayaho! Jayahoo! ."

Beware O' men; before that sacred dawn
the dancing demons of the darkness go
allegro! Blow their creepy clarions
and with askance and dread your hearts they stow!

I know; the hideous looks beautiful;
the beautiful frightens with face dreadful.
The right looks wrong and wrong looks right and lo
the searching saints are hit by panic blow!

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Quagmire

Mind rumpus; thoughts viscous; words pause
Vicious vagueness vituperates
Poesy prowls; never in poise!
Demurs to egress with prowess

Ticklish process it is, to pick
One thick globule of slick morass
That abounds our social precincts
It’s like opt’ng the best of the worst

Then ensues my usual address
Showcasing to the world, this slush
What a curse it’s to our progress
In abstruse poetic phrases

Read they, some with seriousness
Some with a snigger, unimpressed
All to forget in few minutes
Thus my dénouement rests and rusts.

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Life

Let people oppose, abuse,
Harass, talk crass
And become envious
Of your success

Let come losses, hassles
And inexplicable distress
And let collapse
Your concrete dreams

Confidence is the sorceress
And in her hand there is
Courage; the caduceus
To vamoose all this trash
To placate
Every swelling antithesis

Walking through the ruins
With smiling lineaments
You can still build

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poem by Sathya Narayana
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