On A Spring Morning
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Author Archives: rosyretrospection
On A Spring Morning
The rain-washed grass glistened
In the pale morning sun;
The dew drops scintillated
Sending radiance through prisms.
The road serpentined along the banks
Of the curvy Mohawk river
Which washed the foot rests of the hills
And mountains of the Adirondacks.
The lambant light of the early sun
Shone on the green-fisted valley
And the greens danced in varied vestitures
Starting with nature’s first green of gold
Sprinkled on mint greens and lime greens
Of the newly sprouted leaves
While the dark green of the conifers
Stood sentry to the vista of the Valley
And smudged into the crowns of distant peaks.
The river flows in an arabesque
Of lines of movement and placid reverie,
Sluiced by the water gushing from open locks.
The reflected greens and shadows
Is a palette of varied values.
A paean of joy rose up in my breast
To exalt this feast of green glory and sunshine,
Full of promises to be fulfilled.
Homage to Annie
On the wings of fancy,
I travelled to Paradise,
Adventured in Arabia,
Climbed Olympus
And sparkled in fairy dust-
Timeless gifts
Of untold pleasures,
More precious
Than diadems and gems-
All showered from one
Whose voice is a memory
And whose gentle smile
Is pressed between pages
Of pensive recollections.
I stood in front of a name
Etched on the wall of monuments
And the face swam in front
Of eyes swimming in tears
And yearning for a look, a voice,
Or a smile!
I could not raise a sound
To pay homage to that voice
That stilled for our times;
My eyes could not open
To see those eyes bent in kindness
And the smile that blossmed
Perpetually, never wavering,
Never skewed in complaint,
Always taking in the arrows
Shot by life’s crossfire
It is the benefice
And benediction
Of my todays!
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Lily of My Heart
Lily of the valley
Spins not, weaves not-
But outdid Solomon in splendor!
Lily of my heart
Toils and strives;
The sweat of brow
Glistened every moment.
Yet, She outshone in splendor,
The beauty of her soul
Outshining the beauty of her surrounds.
There was the smile
That coated her days.
No complaint crossed her lips
And no whining marred
The music of her voice.
Lily sang out in dulcet tones,
Her life scripting the lyrics.
She provoked no one
And caused no turmoil,
But quietly bid farewell,
Ending her painful sojourn
On this land of travails.
Ariyilla ( I Don’t Know)
Eliot sings
Between echoes
Of memories
And the stars
Laugh to dust
In a hollow heaven
When loneliness brushes
Cold doubt.
Needing another’s soft hand
In the dark,
Remember to climb ahead
And feel the warmth of love’s colors.
How peace abides
Incredibly at odds
Against history!
Sometimes the aftermath
Of furious tornadoes are
Covering puddles
And peacefully bleak mud.
But, I still do not know
Whither I go,
Where to rest.
The birds have trees
And the rodents have their holes.
I still seek
My zones and home
To find my pillow
To rest my head
In the wake of fulfilment.
Departures
So sudden it was
That so many left
Without even a goodbye,
Leaving voids
Not to be filled
By anything around.
Young or old, family or friend-
Into the sunset they walked.
And I was bereft, shedding tears
And dreaming dreams
That never happened
Or will never happen,
Seeking for a presence,
Reaching out
For what wasn’t there.
Crowds came in and out
Filling gaps in life,
But no one filled
The void in my heart.
More and more, I wallowed;
Loneliness knocked at the door.
I chose to let it in
And it clenched my head;
Pain entered without a welcome!
I groped in vagueness,
But found no hold.
I kept slipping
Into the vortex of grief.
But gentle memories
Tugged with insistent affection
And kept the edge of sadness
Stay open for the head to stay up
Without sinking into wild despair.
Gentle Mary
Gentle as fresh showers
That drizzled softly,
She walked the earth,
Delicately suffering,
Mute and deep in her affections.
She loved dearly and surely
Without the panoply and display.
Wishing to be remembered,
She gifted tokens and symbols
Of timeless values
Of affection and memory.
Though delicate as a sapling,
Her porcelain skin gleaming,
Quietly and steadfastly,
She trod her path
Filled with thistles and thorns,
Pebbles and boulders.
Angelic in demeanor,
Her mien in peace,
She endured like the earth;
When the trumpets sounded
And the last notes faded
She left us her gentle presence,
Always in loving memory
Of the caress of her hovering spirit.
Chiarascuro
Closer and closer it came,
Softly, in padded stealth –
The scythe swished and, one by one,
Down came yet another dear.
How to grieve, when, where,…
Tears course down in unwiped furrows
And in untold concentric sorrows.
I huddled, unsolaced, unreprieved.
Time did not stand still – what cliche-
Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours…
Swathes of sorrows unfurled
In the middle of iridiscent life and joys.
Life weaves its pattern;
The warps and wefts, hand moving in and out,
Dances in step with the colors,
Through humanity’s told and untold tales
Of death and griefs
And life’s ephemeral joys.
Seara
Seara of the sea air,
With golden hair and sea green eyes,
Waded into my emptiness,
Into my life of lonely thoughts
And deep desperation.
Seara of the sea air,
With golden hair and sea green eyes,
Woke me from the depths
Into wakeful seconds, breathing deep,
The pallor forgotten for roseate cheeks.
Seara of the sea air,
With golden hair and sea green eyes,
Fingered me with exquisite touch
And I came up, out of depths,
Spluttering with live air,
Inspiring life, laugher glimmering-
I was alive!
Sears of the sea air,
With golden hair and sea green eyes,
Is no more!
She left me bereft of living light;
But the glimmer lingers
Of our life – a Milky Way
Of shared moments-
Streaks of love, life and light!
Where are You?
I did not step in time
And missed the passage of years.
I keep finding memories
Tucked away in corners
Hitherto unvisited.
How did they find
Their little nooks
And little places
Among the shelves,
Bags and boxes?
There you were hiding,
Among the photos,
Among the letters,
Among the unexpected gifts.
But you never hid!
You are with me
In the corners of my heart
Holding on with feathery clasps,
Never intruding,
Present every moment.
When I reflected
And summoned up
Cherished delicacies
Of our knitted lives.
What pathos prompted me
To search for you
Who was twined in my own self?
RosyView 