Tuesday 6 May 2014




         DURGA-PUJA#

                             courtesy : google image

The fragrance of Sheuli* tells me
You are coming
The swing of the Kash** plumage tells me
You are coming
The fluffy white sails in the azure firmament tell me
You are coming
The beaming eyes of the poorest of the poor tell me
You are coming
The buzzing of the buyers and the shrewd sellers tell me
You are coming
My heart-beat sings in unison with the Dhaki’s*** drum
Autumn whispers in my ears that You have come
O, Mother live in our heart forever
Let my eyes see your devotees of various faiths
Let all words transform into Hallelujah as my ears take them in
Let my tongue utter your name all day and night
Let my hands touch you in various life forms
Let my soul inhale the peace whispering in each atom
#Durga Puja (Bengali: দুর্গা পূজা [d̪urɡa pudʒa], listen:   listen (help·info), "Worship of Durga"), also referred to as "Festival of Durga") or Sharadotsav is an annual Hindu festival in South Asia that celebrates worship of the Hindu goddess Durga. It refers to all the six days observed as MahaShashthi, Maha Saptami, Maha Ashtami, Maha Nabami and Vijayadashami. Durga Puja festival marks the victory of Goddess Durga over the evil buffalo demon Mahishasura. Thus, Durga Puja festival epitomises the victory of Good over Evil.

*Night-flowering jasmine
**Kans grass
***Drummer

 Posted for Laurie’s prompt Festival @ Poetry jam



                TREES

                              courtesy : google image


You are still the same ancient sage

Epitome of calm forbearance

We thrive on our greed, might and rage

Forgetting our past war we wage

Against you who shows no grievance

You are still the same ancient sage

Blessing us with life as you age

 Harboring us without pretence

We thrive on our greed, might and rage

 Indulge in killing and carnage

Your bounties speak of tolerance

You are still the same ancient sage

Grounded with a verdant visage

We have our brazen insolence

We thrive on our greed, might and rage

We comb your home for horn, plumage

We know silence is your parlance

You are still the same ancient sage

We thrive on our greed, might and rage

Posted for d’Verse Poets Pub where the prompt is Tree