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Thursday, May 29, 2014

Of Time Does A Calender Unfold A Man's Dream - shobana




It was mid summer once when I knew him
Polite and efficient he drew me in his arms
A quiet resilience followed him
A springed conquest his aim

Sprouting as the greens do or the blossoms of the flowers blue
He hailed  a great storm of hope
Of cherries and strawberries and clutter of growth
Of Spring his name arose

O Autumn of reign your arms bound me with craze
With winds so severe I crumble in your vein
My cloak bound me in blaze

Spring alights in clusters of growth
Once embraced it showers with beaut
Traces of autumn now denote
A longing for spring and springforth thy show

My summer embrace I think not in vain
For the lily fields are filled with your graceful gain
The heat of the sun, the rise of the tide
The glistening beauty of paradise

Winter now comes ahead of snow
Sprinkles of wafer that falls from above
I scream the winter of blings and daffodils
Of festive wonder I break the wind of hail

The four seasons I clutch each timing perfected 
Of time does a calender unfold a man's dream - shobana

All rights reserved. Copyright@shobana2014


Wednesday, May 28, 2014

A Tribute to Maya Angelou

Angeloupoem.jpg
photo taken from wikipedia - Maya Angelou
(1928-2014)

Forms of glistening sheen cover her tribute
From the minds of the literate to the sub-ordinates of culture
From the wake of the dead to the countless who live by her words
Inspired with the norm of a stalker

Making her debut, she marked a name
Denied and discouraged - two terms she shunned
Of a poet did she honor from her list of accords
A laborer of the tireless, a distinction of a leader
Maya Angelou, an inspirer
Maya Angelou, a great leader
Maya Angelou, the phenomenal woman
Maya Angelou, a woman of love.

May you Rest In Peace.
- shobana- 

All rights reserved.Copyright@shobana2014

Monday, May 26, 2014

The Enemy in Terrorism




A dominion that it is
A need to control 
A need to rise up against the enemy

A battalion once was conquered by an army
An army of men distilled with weaponry
Instilled with vicious means to capture the innocent
Against all odds a victory is to be won
Killing uppermost in their minds

Have you ever wondered how the general sleeps the night?
Each time he plunders into deep sleep he is awake with fear
A fear of the enemy to his shadow

Do you ever wonder of the numbers that have perished?
Singled out in an ambush
Running in all directions
Numbed with silent screams
Hiding in thick jungles
Scoured by the killers from both sides
A loser in the end
To a reason unjustified 

For if religion is seen to be a priest for the followers
then let the abodes of the human mind first interpret the meaning
of worship. Human frailty misunderstands the concept of ignorance
where religion is concerned and sidesteps the arches of the Holy Books
to guide the misrepresented - shobana

If death is the means to peace,
Let men of all nations understand that to live is a unified decree with a chance
to survive the fall of treacherous minds - shobana

All rights reserved. Copyright@shobana2014

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

A Potter's Clay



Neither distraction nor a mind unfree
A tireless preacher he sits unknown that his hands form a task
A tiresome task some say to the form of his mind
A vivid picture and the result of a taskmaster

Some say the hands that mould be the master
and some say the clay captures the truth of the master
that it in its form of tardiness rule the mind

Twirling in dirt it resonates in its beauty yet unfinished
A slip and it returns to its form of dust 
The chapter of the master his pattern unrelinquished 
The destruction of the clay his dismal of a famished unfed

Breaking the bond between master and servant
The potter and the clay jilts each other's position
A silent nomination of the victor
A product of a hand that is not seen as meagre
A potter's clay now masked as a sensation.

-shobana-

Monday, May 19, 2014

Behind The Scenes

old english house


Behind the Scenes

I took a brick one day and laid it out into a mansion
I stuck a nail away deep in the attic up above
My home one of styled addiction
Each brick I laid had a fanciful abbreviation
M for the master of home
A for the lady who's sown her needs
N for the tedious name
one had in mind
S for the silver lining
that saw a dream align
I for the we that is you and me
O for awe
that leaves us with
N - one or the other

I walked these steep sideways
Waiting to keep them trendy
Wooden and brown 
they are castaways
of a tree torn down.

My Mansion My Home
-shobana-

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Sweet Child of Mine sans 1





I believe love goes beyond reasoning
Smiles can sometimes hide the deep reckoning
of a charmer verses her mother
My child, a woman
Beyond that she's a maiden
The fairest of one without exclusion of a sister before her

I sometimes concur that deep emotions rock her world
One that changes her perception of a woman gone through childhood
and only then adolescence, can you understand this
This deep adherence to womanhood that is seen through an adolescent
Sometimes vigilant and sometimes obscure

Sweet Child of Mine sans 1
One or the other
Its the questions that be would fill the void of answers...

-shobana-

Thursday, May 8, 2014

What's in a Name



Knitted in document of names, the journey begins
Of what do you see the traits begin or how
How does the trail reveal its roots
A name stands to gain footage on scrolls
Like a mushrooming tree it gains its foothold
A sir name likened to a family
The name that catapults the flames of identity
To know the branches that hold infirmity
of royalties and commoners
A genial contrast to a unbeknownst
a continuing identity
One that cannot be erased or disguised
The outcome of ingenuity from the days of yore

And hence the question - What is in a name?
The very essence of indestructibility.

- shobana -




Saturday, May 3, 2014

A Master's Delight



I say to you truly
The seaside and its manor a relationship most obscure
Avant-garde I should say
Listening to wind waves that wash and grind along the way
Filling lukewarm days bristling with salty aftertaste

She looks outside 
Standing on the ledge of a wooden escapism of modern times - the window
Small as she was, her weight combined enshrined in a summary of write
Locks falling, cascading on her tiny face
She watches with breathless tide

Wash away that look of woe betide
And watch out for that broken hide
Whispering with  an uplifted cry
At the beauteous cast of reflection aside
She sinks into a joyous pride
The seaside and the manor truly a master's delight.

-shobana-
All rights reserved. Copyright@shobana2014

Friday, May 2, 2014

The Speeding Train



A little girl of six
She sits legs folded beneath her
Watching for the speeding train
As it whizzes past her
She is enthralled by its speed
and time is lost to her in the seconds of its speed

-shobana-
All rights reserved. Copyright@shobana2014


Goddess of Song

My Poem "Goddess of Song" was accepted and published in the February 2018 issue of the Enchanted Conversation Magazine :- Read...