A Clean Slate

I see the calendar as if it is
A clean slate
A snowy white board
Inviting you and I to scribble
A course of life for the months to follow
Hey! Don’t be reckless this time.
Invest some thoughts.
Take some time.
The clusters of grapheme you make sure
Should mean something, should add something.

I see the calendar as if it is
A clean white canvas
What picturesque beauty
You want to dwell in
Sharpen your crayons accordingly.
Choose your colors wisely.
And do a subtle play with them.
@jeyforyou

Clogged Up

I am still clogged up
In the enormity of the year just gone by.
The sight of ferrying still bodies.
The sight of accumulated pyres.
The smoked up sky.

Let me be there a little more.
Let me postpone ushering in the new time.
Let me mourn over the demise of wisdom.

We make promises to ourselves
And to others known and unknown
We make new resolutions.
Let’s make a resolution this year
That we don’t make any at all.

We have made mistakes.
And some have done blunders.
I know there things incorrigible
Still I see the scope looming over
The scope for correction.
Find it.
Do it.
©jeyforyou

A Virtual Date

A long distance relationship
Countless days of autumn
With very long winter
And there he stands
A failed Astrophel.

He plans and mulls over and over
To overcome the spatial distance
Being geographically distant yet near

And thus he  plans a virtual date
On a Saturday evening
The blue stripes  polo hanging
Long in the closet has its day
She picks up the black saree
Pinched with metallic gold flowers in the hem.

She orders on Zomato
He orders on  Meal Box
Conversation begins with a ‘Hi’.
She says ,”Oh, don’t be shy’.
Door bells ring and the  parcels recieved
His guess was was right
It was pizza yellow and bright
The way she munches in no agony
Brings in a succulent symphony

A sweet kiss
Was the dessert they did.
©jeyforyou

An Earnest Plea

Mother’s Day 2k21

Horrific sights swell like fiery hell
Daughters rubbing their mother’s hands
A desperate son thumping his father’s chest
Amid the boundless pyres and graves
Made each day round the clock
Crying eyes,sobbing hearts, tears tainted faces
And family members begging for a proper funeral

How can I stop thinking about the mothers
This heartless covid turned into widows
Mothers whose only bread-winners succumbed
To the apathy of the chosen few
To the anomalies they made and ignored

I know many of them,more than many I guess
Whose mothers breathe no more, smile no more
They won’t be wishing this globally assumed day
They won’t be carrying their mothers blessings

To the Lord of the Universe do I pray
And invoke His angels to protect the mothers
On His ravaged savage Earth.
©jeyforyou

Ode to a Pseudo-Saint