A sea of foliage girds our garden round,
But not a sea of dull unvaried green,
Sharp contrasts of all colors here are seen;
The light-green graceful tamarinds abound
Amid the mango clumps of green profound,
And palms arise, like pillars gray, between;
And o'er the quiet pools the seemuls lean,
Red—red, and startling like a trumpet's sound.
But nothing can be lovelier than the ranges
Of bamboos to the eastward, when the moon
Looks through their gaps, and the white lotus changes
Into a cup of silver. One might swoon
Drunken with beauty then, or gaze and gaze
On a primeval Eden, in amaze.

Here lies wealthy aunt Dot
Let us pray for her, people
Let us pray for Dorothy Keeper
For here comes the grim reaper.

They called her Marie-Antoinette
Breaking fast on cake and tea
While gorging whole on tamarinds
And tittering her high-squealed laughs.

She wore her sky-scraper heels
With such care, they'd always look new
With no scuff marks, but in the end,
She hurt her back and broke her ankle!

She lived in such a mansion
You'd need an elevator to get to ***
Her gardener had his own butler
While her dogs had weekly pedicures.

Yet when they found her, on her last
She was bedecked in every wealth imaginable
Burdened tables, with rarest delicacies
But not a crumb of mercy on her plate.

You see, the ones she thought valued her
Were simply riding high on tails
They were cloven deep through the ranks
While rank decay sat fat in every corner.

Always one to expect return
She did little to relieve that scorned idea
When nephews begged for bursaries
She'd shoo them gone; let pets sap cream.

Now, upon her mortal hour, her eyes did sink
So deep in sharp despair.
Her ragged breath her kin did hear
And mere perfunctory embrace she felt.

Her sickness begged a touch of care
A little sweetness, a glance of kindness
But pitied eyes swept aghast around
At the splendid array in her mausoleum.

Nephews now grown men stand and look
They shoo not the flies around her mouth
For minds locked ******* heartless past
Fail to discover any worthy pattern.

No one could give what she desired
So they turned all from patient, one by one
To their cosy, quiet homes
Save the little boy, silent by the door.

They knew not that their paltry lesson in humanity
Screamed for mercy; to alter, make good flow
The little boy turned, to change the tide
*** for tat pays not; we should all know that!

Peace and mercy, she but sought now
And in his utter silence, he gave her that
Her eyes pled such deep appeal
His heart bled at their steep reveal.

Most unfortunate turn of events unseen
When the boy now held beneath his eyes
Heavy, darkened rings of suffering
Intense subject of compassion.

Years later, no one would know that
Upon her deathbed, she bequeathed him silent gift:
That, until kin break spited cycle
He would bear the brunt forthwith.

And now, Aunt Dot has died
All return to home and hearth
Yet no redemption till the day is due
And the soul awaits .......ever patient.

Star Toucher, 22 February 2013

~for V~*


The rain makes the maracuyá shine wet.
The rain makes the tamarind fur glow.
It’s easy to say that she never ate the tamarinds
but it was always more about the chinolas
and how they tasted of sunlight
in the morning before the dew woke.

in pieces
they tell me i must like someone now that they are dead
or react appropriately
to their appropriation of their name
the name of a corpse
is not dignity or repose
the eternal rest is merely
decomposition
composure and praise
are for those weak and faintly hearing
how bad
is not a reaction but an instinct
rest not
for merely death stalking
his blade reaping
is the sound of silencio
por favor
there is more work to be done
playing back into being
the fresh citrus
the nopal
street tamarinds
and hugs
well
they are good
see
but hardly ask me to reply
for i must rest

LET'S MINI J.J. BATLIWALAS BECOME

O YOUNG ONES,

Too much fun and frolic we always have, let's please a few minutes, for our environment spare;

Let's all do  n show, that about our surroundings; about Mother Earth, we deeply care.

On this weekend, let's a few seeds n saplings in our colonies sow; of plants ordinary, not necessarily rare

Inside n outside, on the fringes, let's some bawals, Bamboos, drumsticks, tamarinds, mangoes plant

Help us in our endeavour can, from the colony, some grandparents, parents, or some uncle and aunt.

Sure I am, if willingly participate many, "Amertat Ameshaspenta", bless us n our wish will certainly grant.

If a tycoon famous,  Batliwala (J. Jeejeebhoy) by  name, could do this, let's also beautiful "baatlees" some collect.

For this purpose most required and useful; to go around, a team or two we need to quickly elect ;

Then, decorate n beautify the "baatlees"; after you, their colours, shapes n sizes select.

BE A PART OF BEAUTIFYING YOUR HOME, NEIGHBOURHOOD, CITY, COUNTRY N THE PLANET. PLEASE JOIN THIS MISSION.

Armin Dutia Motashaw