A masked politician
comes
with a pack of food
in his gloved hands
for an elderly
squatting
on his fleshless legs;
his overgrown beard
and shaggy hair
infested with perhaps
millions of corona,
outside a broken hut
of a black polythene,
in outskirts
of this silenced city of past noise.
in that deserted garden;
where some caged plants
stood green.
AND
the super creation
mechanically
Wrapped in
web of domains
cissing and crossing
unbridled
gaming foul,
claimed
the global village
interconnected
"no distances"
.....
for "physical distancing"
today,
Of course! today.
distanced
from a twitter
of a bird;
yet
huddled
in a dis-infected room
reading
'Stay Home'
Self- isolate
quarantine
for period of
a half moon circle,
stopping this virulent
the tiniest stain of
Covid-19,
on his twitter account.
AND
In the dark of pandemic
light of candles,
as Indian saints say
Of countlessly nine
Those beats of utensils
Rythmically fine
Alas! That
Destructive closeness
In a disguise,
Distanced
The hope
Which the cruel hands
Of politics
Snatched.
the birds are
Flabbergasted,
And animals
Saddened,
Yet
Scared
Lest their own
Existence
Suffers
And evolution
sets a new era!
Narinder
Mar 30, 2020
Mar 30, 2020 at 10:18 PM UTC
A circular motion
of everything
centripetal force of what
keeps the world together,
yet the weak spots
where hatred is spread
innocent misled
there mobs gather
unbridled
uncontrolled
some sit and stand
others walk and talk
some enjoy
others ploy
some come and go
others break the flow
then the machines fail
for moans and cries....
( Badly moved by the Amritsar Tragedy)
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 3:24 PM UTC
life went unbridled
from one corner to another
in the busiest cities
full of activities
for luxuries
however
in a dilapidated
untidy
unkept
broken
room
close to a place
where people sang hymns
in service of god
behind the curtain
of tatters
the hunger wrestled
with three daughters
bit by bit
while the avarice
panged
the poor
in those cities
where digital world
shines
abreast
the Moon
beyond Mars.
( Indeed, I felt pained for death of three daughters with hunger in Delhi.)
Narinder Bhangu.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
innerself potentially decides
between wrong and right
in a jiffy,
that stays eternally.
poetry that sprouts
from such a bud
remains green
as a falsified desiccates
to elope ephemerally...
when poets become thieves
and thieves poets
poetic flow
even then,
in its riverline
travels to unknown
away where beauty
in thought and action
reigns
as thieves write poetry
and poets the theft, dismally.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 10:49 AM UTC
down the time antediluvian
the search is continued
for a joyful jiffy
filled with fragrances
which birds endorse
by their skilful flight
synchronised,
and dancing tulips
in the eastern winds
those new buds
on tree branches
in month of march
glossy yet soft
that fill the greenery
in a dried canvas
of snow laden winter
and squirls
check their hiding places
hoping,jumping, running
climbing up and down
branch to branch..
as if nature
in its perpetual cycle
offers its bountiful
generously.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 10:48 AM UTC
The lesson in a book
I have read,
the journey
across the four corners
to refresh
the saddened soul
that always
stayed hollow
a big gap
to fill....
for the time unknown
this gap widened
as I tried narrowing
with my futile efforts
I learned
from all the books.
then, I read
a book
that
the nature publishes
on each branch of a tree,
in the soul of a worm
hiding under a pebble,
and a sparrows' search
for such worms
for stomachful meals
for the day
before joining a flock
to present a scenic beauty
on sky's canvas.
And in its each word
decoded
a feeling of lightness
enlighted
the sad soul
giving a feeling of ecstasy
and I sang a song
of the fullest enjoyment
playing a flute
of my imagination
disconnected...
from earthly matters
..........................
yet connected
to away and away
beyond
where
beauty reighns
both in thoughts and actions
when cosmic energy,
in its glitz, is
unparalleled, unrivaled
Narinder Bhangu
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 10:24 AM UTC
Busy in my bout
of fast life
Mother's day celebrations
I heard around.
Impulsively,
I connected
silently by myself,
my inner soul
with hers in heaven away...
And she firmed the connection
last night
in my dream
taking me back
to the same
terrains and fields,
across the small dried brook,
where she had worked
and I tried to escape
to join the team
of my friends
as a teenager would do;
and..
the same earthen hearth
where she had cooked
the corn chapatis
on those red coal pieces
this motherly bond more firmed
never to break
Of course, it never breaks.
Narinder Bhangu
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 10:47 PM UTC
The night
calls her for sleep
whatever way,
in a hut of dried ,
twigs and leaves collected,
randomly from the woods nearby.
tiring body movements,
the mechanics of mind,
emotional shakes,
blushing faces,
the begging hands,
never plaintive,
quite satisfied with
the fractional mercy
of well attired,
who drives a car to
a mammoth
glass house,
where in
dancing continues
and a game of cockles
till late,
in disguise
to sensual tunes,
on a cosy bed
in a bedroom
festooned
with select tapestry,
readying
for next day's rat race,
away
unknown to
the life
in that hut of twigs
where
the meagre alms conceal
body aches
****** and abusive words
the sunken bellies
and lean skeleton
of a father
guarding the chastity
of a daughter
resting on a
loose stringed charpoy
yet, the next day
calls her to leave
that hut of twigs..
( Chorpoy is four wooden post bed woven with raw strings, and these strings become loose with time )
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 12:02 AM UTC
The light of eternity
changed the values
of my relationship
and character,
drove me away
from wealth and fame
showed me the pious place
from where I came.
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 11:59 PM UTC
A petal
sticks to its peduncle,
glossy and turgid
a proud connection
dipping a dew drops
on a thorn
on the branch
of a rose plant.
the thorn
sharp
yet vigilant
protects petal's
pristine glory
of marmoreal smoothness.
yet
the dried peduncle
breaks
plaintively
the next fall
and the desiccated branch
gives a prickly touch
in a thorny hedge
in my backyard
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 11:58 PM UTC