Moony Musings

Photo by luizclas

If I ever, ever get a boon;
To wish for what I like.
I’d really wish to visit the moon,
On a full moon night.

I’d sit there smiling all alone,
Watching the stars and sun.
Dear Earth would be emerald blue;
It all would be such fun.

Alone alone all alone,
Without an iota of sound.
It would be queer and creepy too,
To have a peak around.

Craters huge and mountains tall;
Would have secrets to tell.
So would calderas small enough,
To be on Earth a well.

I’d roam about for a long, long time;
Till it fills my soul.
I would skip and jump, and run around;
Happily from pole to pole.

Without a single sound or life,
I’m sure to be bored out soon.
I’d find it hard, and awfully sad;
To settle down on moon.

When silence becomes unbearable;
With plenteous solitude.
I’ll clap my hands, and in a wink,
Come back home for good.

Rebirth

………………………………………………………..

It is said in the Vedas;
That, whatever now we do.
Determines in the next life,
That who will be who.

The good deeds of life before,
Has earned us a human form.
Showering us with powers,
From the day we are born.

But the evil deeds of humanity,
Accumulations due to greed.
For what? We really know not,
Nor is there a real need.

This want for more is endless,
And is testing for mother earth.
Who provides things in abundance,
And never leaves a dearth.

In delusion of achievements,
We’re actually collecting sins.
Whose results we’ll get in next life,
And know what suffering means.

We’re paving a path for travelling,
A life without water or air.
Money and gold are useless,
When basic things are rare.

Polluted fumes shall abound,
In treeless barren land.
The dry, choking hot air;
Shall blow over scorching sand.

Drops of water will be diamonds,
Every fruit and leaf will be gold.
The noble souls shall get them;
To noble souls they’ll be sold.

Only the fit and poor will live,
For they have the true wealth.
The power to endure adversity,
With which they’ve always dealt.

The rich who gained mere money,
By exploiting nature to the core.
Will awaken and gradually realise,
That money has no value anymore.

The air , water and food;
That we take for granted everyday.
Are the real priceless things,
Whatever one might say.

So by planting trees and caring,
For whatever God gives for free.
Is the only path to salvation,
For the world, for you and me.

Now is the time to fix our priorities.

The Forgotten Twig

The poem is based on the uselessness of office politics.
Helpfulness helps the helper.

The little bird forgot one day;
Where it kept its twig,
She would need it again one day;
To make her nest more big.

She went about her work all day;
Getting  food for the young ,
Happily she did her work ;
And laboured till it was done.

And in her work she did forget;
All about the twig ,
She thought that target had been met,
Her nest was nice and big.

The other birds saw her work;
And mused at her forgetfulness.
They hid her twigs because the shock.
Would surely raise her stress.

There was another silly bird,
Who lacked the tacts of the world.
Who liked to help one and all;
And revelled in the joy unfurled.

She saw the forgetful bird go round;
Oblivious of her loss.
She reminded her of the twig,
Which made the others cross.

They thought that the forgetful bird;
Should’ve paid for her forgetfulness,
Her ugly nest should have fallen down,
Her life should have been a mess.

The helpful bird raised her eyes
And asked, what they would gain.
If the poor bird’s nest got broke,
Or if, she received some pain.

They snubbed and ignored the bird;
For her well meant deed,
For the helpful bird, it mattered not
For peace of mind was her need.

She cared not, for what others thought;
She did not care for their might,
She always listened to her heart
And did what she thought was right.


Golden Moments

The world is an amazingly adventurous place … just look through my eyes.
——————————————————————–

Speech is silver, Silence is gold;
Such proverbs are somewhat old.
Silence gives us blissful peace,
A silent Siesta’s  each man’s wish.

It was a hot summer afternoon, when
Venturing out would make one swoon;
The fans were on, the rooms were cool.
The ones outside were surely fools.

Mom told stories of kings and Queens,
Of a lovely princess and her dreams.
Hoping her stories would put to sleep,
Her toddler son and daughters sweet.

As her story ended she fell asleep,
Drowning in a peaceful slumber deep.
The daughters too had fallen asleep;
But toddler son wished to have a peak.

He was feeling hot, had a little sweat;
The bathroom tap could make him wet.
He toddled there, and turned the tap,
Sound of water broke the sister’s nap.

She found her Bro, missing from bed;
‘Wake up sis! you sleepy head.’
The younger one to the elder said.
And saying so leapt up from her bed.

She tiptoed to the washroom door;
Sitting happily on the  floor,
His expression one of joy untold,
The noon was hot and the water cold.

Splash, Splash, Splash went his feet;
Thump, Thump, Thump went the beat.
As he splashed the water with his hand,
At the door he saw his sisters stand.

He laughed out loud in greatest joy,
The tap water was, his newest toy.
He shrieked in glee, he felt so free;
To solve the washroom’s mystery.

The sisters pulled him from the tap,
And a towel around him wrapped.
He gave them a one toothed smile,
Knowing what he did was vile.

 The sisters laughed to see him so,
 But what he did, mom must know.
So they carried him to their mom;
And gifted her a towel wrapped son.

It amused mom, to hear the story,
Of her son’s endeavour to gather glory.
Speech is silver and silence is gold,
Not so when you have a one year old.

Memoirs of childhood days.

The Parrot and the Mouse

A little mouse found an apple,
Under an apple tree.
It was a round and juicy one,
So, he went on an eating spree.

He ate a bit and found it fit,
To take the rest to his house.
He rolled it along, all the way,
Sans help of another mouse.

There came a part which was steep,
It was hard to push the apple up.
When he heaved it up with all his might;
It rolled back without a stop.

Tired out, and wet with sweat;
He thought it better to rest.
Then try again, after the wait;
To take the apple to his nest.

A parrot soon came flying by,
And perched on a branch above.
She watched mousie struggle hard,
Her heart was filled with love.

‘May I help you, mousie dear,
To carry your heavy load?
I can carry it up the slope,
And take it to your abode.’

‘No, and thanks,’ replied the mouse;
And carried on with his work.
Pushing and rolling it up the slope,
Till before a rock he was stuck.

He tried to manoeuvre it around,
But it slipped from his grasp.
Down the slope it went again;
Now, atop it buzzed a wasp.

The parrot came to his rescue at once,
And the wasp flew away.
‘Let me carry your load,’ said she
‘It will save your day.’

Hesitatingly the mouse allowed;
The parrot to carry his load.
He gave directions to the bird,
For reaching his abode.

He scuttered fast to his home;
Freely without his food.
While birdie took his apple ripe,
And flew above the wood.

The mouse had a long wait,
Before he saw the parrot arrive.
Now the apple was a scrap on her beak;
So, she did not need to strive.

‘You’ve eaten my apple, you greedy guts!’
Cried the mouse, fuming red.
‘I’ve taken my due for helping you,’
With an aura she said.

Then she flew up high, into the sky;
Leaving the scrap behind.
The mouse had learnt his lesson well
Which he’ll always keep in mind.

If you badly want to have something,
Depend on your efforts alone.
The results will be in your hands,
And you can take the benefits home.

The Unknown Path

You see miracles, when you walk through nature ______________

I went out for my morning walk,
Sharp at seven today.
The crisp cool wind swept my hair;
As I went my way.

Squirrels scuttered, birds sang,
Trees waved in the breeze.
Happy clouds floated by;
Nature seemed so pleased.

I loved each moment of the morn,
Strolling through the woods.
The lonely path beckoned me;
It felt so calm and good.

I went along the lonely stretch,
Sceptical of the unknown.
The unknown soon became so dear,
That solitude became a boon.

“If you truly love nature, you will find beauty everywhere.”

Vincent van Gogh

Sickness

Patience brings rewards.

When you’re down and when you’re out,
You feel like dying and want to shout.
You want to run but you’re sick in bed;
From green to yellow, now lights are red.

Rest for a while, sport a false smile;
Taste of life, sometimes seems like bile.
But tarry a while and things will turn;
Once more your life, will seem like fun.

Happiness, sadness, dark and light;
Laughter, tears, friendship, fight,
Everything follows an eternal cycle,
Life’s experiences test your mettle.

Get through it with flying colours;
Happiness can’t be bought with dollars.
When things seem tough wait a while;
Then win the world, with a genuine smile.

JOY IS FREE

'Real happinesss is cheap enough, yet how dearly we pay for its counterfeit'
Hosea Balou
Happiness is enjoying little things in life.

We look for happiness here and there,

       In crowds , solitude, everywhere.

We search for it in lessons learnt,

     Our trials leave, no stone unturned.

Not knowing what we really need,

     Endlessly we fulfill our greed.

But, happiness lies in little things,

    Kindness, smiles and sweet nothings.

A merry morning, or summer rain,

   Fills us with peace and leaves no pain.

So look for joy in birds and trees

For, good things in life are always free.

Happiness is the best make up.
Drew Barrymore.

HOMAGE TO THE NOBLE SOULS

“The mind is not a vessel to be filled, but a fire to be kindled.”
Plutarch

      

The mind is eternal;
And lives forever…..
For the thoughts it gave birth to
When it was alive.

Great people leave their impressions,
In the minds of others.
For their goodness,
For their uniqueness.

Even when they leave their body;
People bow down to them,
Of their own free will.
Respect automatically flows.

It’s thoughts, and the deeds….
Which are the outcome of the thoughts,
That make up our lives.
Which ends with a bang or a hiss.

Losing a great mind;
Is a loss to humanity.
I bow down to such mind,s
And pray for everlasting peace of their  souls.

“And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read;
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink.”
John Keats

Average Superwoman

Stress is a serial killer

She woke up early;
She slept so late,
Anyhow, she finished her plate.
She ate leftovers;
She gobbled them down,
Saving each penny,
Saving each crown.
She saved everything,
For a better life.
She was busy each day,
Her life was a strife.

She worked at home;
She worked outside,
Life’s journey was a bumpy ride.
She washed dishes;
She fulfilled wishes,
Office was a stress;
Home was a mess.
She lost her health,
On her health her wealth.
And the better days;
Found better ways,
To elude her,
Till the end of her life.

Simply bloom. Live life now.