The Sun

The Sun...
Our very own sun
One microscopic star in the boundless universe
Blessed us with a million of things including...
A planet exuberant with life
Of all shapes, colors and sizes
Bright cheerful mornings
Ringing with a chirpy chorus
Beautiful blue skies
Dotted with silky fluffy clouds
The magic of a rainbow
Hidden in the midst of a drizzle
Vibrant blossoms
Exuding the sweetest fragrance
Humming birds and buzzing bees
Dancing in circles
Lush foliage breathing out
The life sustaining oxygen
Gazillion rays
Wrapping Earth in love and warmth

Then the light so bright
Shunning all darkness out of sight
Chants the sincere value of life
For an endless passage of time

Irony of fate

I recall no particular incident for this inspiration, it was totally random.. but maybe some early observations of my favorite and not-so-favorite arthropods triggered its concoction.. passively. Nevertheless the intricate patterns of a neatly woven web (not the world wide web), never fails to amaze me. 

............................

As the morning dew becomes pearly beads

and roll down the edge of a leaf

The sun rays filter through a thick canopy

and silhouettes a webbed masterpiece

Bound and gagged by the fibrils so delicate

a forlorn fly wriggle and cry

The plight unbeknown to a merry Monarch

flutters to a milkweed nearby

The boughs budge and the branches wave

as the gust blows right and left

The starving hunter closes in

and finds dangling fibrils instead

On the ground teeming with rotting leaves

the cocooned fly twist and twirl

Trying to set itself free from pain and grief

for being stuck in a fatal murk

The wind blows hard on our little Monarch

who whirls and drops on a web

The spider gives no chance and wraps it up fast

while the butterfly wriggles in pain

The fly on the ground break out of cocoon

and shakes off its fear and fatigue

It soars to the sky, passing by

the hunter and the prey.. in a blink

A poet... one of a kind

During the times I was glued to Japanese drama, there was this one particular drama that made me all teary eyed, on each and every episode. The name itself says so.. Ichi Rittoru no Namida (One Litre of Tears). The story was based on a true story of a poet - Kitou Aya (1962-1988), a teenager who suffered from an illness with no cure. Through her umpteen times of suffocation, she wrote a diary that inspired millions. This is a tribute to that poetic heroin, who left the world way too early.

.............

In the world unknown to her

Enveloped in a wall sky high

She encountered...

Smiling faces,

Watery eyes,

Stuttering voices

And the sound of wheels

Her fate stole all hopes and dreams

Making her past... a cherished dream

Her present... a battle of life and death  

And her future... all dark and indistinct

A mountain of things left to do

A mountain of things left to say

Yet the cruelty of her fate

Took all that away

And all that awaited

Was nothing but death and pain

Bedridden and mute

Yet with a smile that never fades

Her trembling hands scribbled

Encouraging words

Day after day

A ritual she performed

Since she was fifteen

Until she bid farewell

At the age, five and twenty

Her words brought life and courage

To millions of people, drenched in pain

And to this day, her name lingers in their hearts

As a savior, a hero... who was born through pain

The Maestro of the Street

Think I wrote this after seeing a street performer.. not so new of a sight in this part of the world. But sadly those who appreciate their efforts are no more.. or visibly less.

...... 

In the corner of a dust covered street

Under the scorching sun’s heat

Amidst a throng of sullen people

He’d willingly take a seat

Pulling out a few instruments

From a safely packed bundle

He starts playing a pleasing tune

For this gathering to listen

Switching from flute to harmonica

While playing the violin

He performs a mini orchestra

Accompanied by a tambourine

 Time to time people glance at him

Awaiting their buses to arrive

Slightly tapping their feet to the rhythm

‘Cause his music can mesmerize

They’d forget the scorching heat

They’d forget the stress and tension

They’d forget the anger from waiting

They’d forget all worldly problems

Before long their buses arrive

And the crowd leaves one by one

Only a few willingly offer him coins

While others offer him none

Yet he’s content with what he gets

As he happily counts his collection

And packs up his belongings

To set off in another direction

From street to street he wanders

Far away from his home and family

Trying his best to cheer sullen people

For he’s a true performer of the street

S.M.I.L.E.

This will be the teeny space to hatch those random inspirations I get from time to time.  So here goes the first.

S - seemingly unrelated.. insignificant
M - moments... captured gracefully by the mind;
I - in the nick of time.. a
L - language unspoken.. interprets itself.. and
E - etches its trace.. permanently... in the heart.