The City

This city

with countless people

like stars

some dim

some bright

some dying

never sleeps

Its voices

like waves

rise/fall

lost in

deep ocean

heard

unheard

City-roads

like serpents

drink lives

no mercy

no plea

life

dead

Road-lights

like moths

search brightness

ultimate

untimed

death

flicker

This city never sleeps,

its voices unheard,

city-roads dead,

road-lights flicker.

Blessings

As I lay on the forest floor, 

gazing at the starry sky,

I wonder about the blessings,

                 ~that are numerous,

                   than the stars passing by.

The sodden forest ground,

the smell of ferns and fronds,

chirping night voices,

~ earth's blessings,

   and bond,

   with creatures roaming along.

Soft brumal winds,

their tinkling hints,

snowflakes floating around,

jewels of wintry crown,

~ seasonal blessings,

   lovingly,

   showered down.

The Stars Are With Me Tonight

Tonight,

            the sky is a dark yard,

            and the moon dimly lit alone,

            all the lullabies of the night are silent,

cicadas quiet,          

fireflies not glowing bright.

There is stillness in the night,

for the stars are with me tonight.

What Dreams Are made Of?

Ask a child what dreams are made of?

For a child,

Dreams are dipped in chocolate and marmalade,

A yummy sweet candy and uncountable holidays.

Ask a bird what dreams are made of?

For a bird,

Dreams are seeds, spread lavishly,

A cage free life, flying refreshingly.

Ask a youth what dreams are made of?

For a youth,

Dreams are conquering the impossible,

Rising towards the sky unstoppable.

Ask an old man what dreams are made of?

For an old man,

Dreams are nothing, but scattered imaginations,

For him they are just whims and fascinations.

Ask a wanderer what dreams are made of?

A wanderer,

Dreams of a perfect world,

A world welcoming all, where truth unfurls.

Secret Desires

Secret desires,

flow through,

poems,

bathing,

my flesh,

in your aroma.

As night,

descends,

with her moon,

our thoughts,

become one.

Who Is Who?

Oh! Great Saints,

my mind hurts in vain,

heal my soul,

relieve me from this pain,

and the questions unanswered…………….

We dance to the universal rhythms,

the cosmic vibrations we unknowingly follow,

thinking of them as our great endeavours.

Everything is set,

the pattern, the path, the words,

we merely step on them,

and consider as our chosen world.

Call it hard work, luck or destiny,

we fail, we rise, we do what we do,

and name it our will.

But, who is pulling the strings?

Who is the master puppeteer?

The one with the trident?

Or

Our mind’s own fallacies?

{Note: In Hinduism, God Shiva holds Trident.}

The Tiny Seed

The tiny seed,

knows not of its power,

that sleeps within.

Fertile ground,

its nurturing sound,

a home the tiny seed has found.

Rainy love,

from skies above,

drenches the seed,

shaping its need.

Buds sprout,

happily spring out,

a labour of love.

Shoots gaze,

to the blue yonder with maze,

dreaming of it unfazed.

The tree rises,

step by step

up and up.

The power of seed,

now,

this tree holds.

A story of faith,

the tiny seed unfolds.

Published in "The Ashvamegh International Journal & Literary Magazine"

http://ashvamegh.net/2017-issues/xxxiii-october/poems/vandana-sharma/