more flowers to the bouquet

I add more to my bouquet of poems:



The boy
 
 
  The boy loved that tree,
 
  Tall and stately,
 
  Raising its head
 
  Above all others.
 
  The boy went to it
 
  and hugged it Everyday.
 
 
 
  The boy loved the towers
 
  And charted out the whole
 
  Countryside in his mind.
 
  This one is on the Ganga,
 
  That one on the Chhatnag road,
 
  That must be the Jamuna Bridge.
 
  The boy was happy when he
 
  could see his tree and tower.
 
  What a simple life to come to.
 
  Just a tree to make you happy.
 
 
  ------------------------------------
 
  I looked for a flower
 
 
  I looked for a flower
 
  And found a plethora of them
 
  I looked for a sea
 
  And found an ocean
 
 
  ------------------------------------
  The Monastery
 
  The wheels turned and the chants grew deeper
 
  I love this place more than death
 
  The chants and the deep silence
 
  --------------------------------------------
 
  The rose inside me turned red
 
  Only yesterday it was white, blue and yellow
 
  Lord, why do you find me so beautiful?
 
  ---------------------------------------------------------
 
  The Fakir Ma and the begger boy
 
 
  She sings strumming on her ektara
 
  The boy leads her along,
 
  a penny or two in his outstretched hand
 
 
 
  She sings in her lilting voice
 
  She sings to her Beloved God
 
  Rousing the whole world from its melancholy.
  ----------------------------------------------------
 
  When I turn fakir
 
  Singing from door to door
 
  Perhaps you will know me
 
  By a song I sang long before.
 
  ------------------------------------------------------------

My attempts at poetry

The little boy
 
  -------------------------------------
 
  The little boy writes and writes
 
  With his feather pen, dipped in ink.
 
  Mountains, stones, dinaosaurs,
 
  comets, finally man with his
 
  quill and ink and lots of
 
  stories to tell.
 
 
 
  The little boy paints and paints
 
  Blue, grey, green, yellow, while
 
  His rainbow always has six colours.
 
  Towers and tall trees, rivers
 
  and fancy bridges. Thunder and rain.
 
  The boy is fascinated by the world.
 
  Where have we lost our fascination?


posted by  Rukmini Dey