Diwali is here
Lights and colour everywhere
A boom and a bang
gifts and joys to share

Little girls and little boys
Dancing around with joy
Watching them from a distance
Was the little shoe shine boy

With his grubby hands and tattered wear
Black lined face and ***** hair
All he wanted was a little toy
But who would share with a poor shoe shine boy

His mother sewed clothes
Father, he had none
His house was a hovel
Clothes he had but one

His stomach growled
Hunger gnawing at the pit
looked at the rich people eating
And Shuffled his feet

The car door opened
He was called aloud
His heart froze and trembled
Wer they to shout?

They gave a 20 rupee note
smiled and said "No shoe to shine".
The lil boy stared and thought
"Is this a dream of mine?"

So with his bag, brush and ***** rag
Leapt the lil boy high in the air
His happiness knew no bounds
He had his joy to share

Ran to his home, to the little tattered hut
Forgetting about hunger and toy
He walked in a rich man
That happy little shoe shine boy!

-Haiku Poem

Let the children laugh
It is good for the children
Sorrow comes in time

Sorrow awaits all
Who with wisdom then of joy
lived in joy complete

Joy begets sorrow
There all the knowledge within
the wisdom of loss

Joy is enrapture
While sorrow ever awaits
Sorrow knows one end

That then is our life
The moments of joyous peace
The sorrows of loss

Time swept memories
Joyful reckless abandon
Our remembrances

Let the children play
They've time to laugh it away
Joyous hearts grow bold.

-R.

(10.16.17)
-LA

They talked about him as the one
who none had ever seen smile.

You couldn't gauge
if he was happy or depressed
no emoji could describe
the repressed expression
but all said
he was dutiful.

Caring husband and father
responsible family head
silent bread earner.

His constant arrangement made sure
the home was neatly organized
not one object was out of place
and but for the children
it would have been hard to guess
if he ever met his wife privately
summing up him to be named
robot
and the belief in his name was strong.

When his wife died
he wailed so loud
it could be heard beyond town.

To the neighbors,
it was mechanical breakdown.

She took my niece,
Made her, her-daughter.

Two of them sippin' coffee
In yoga clothes,
Watching sun-rising over the bay @
7:00am, on a Sabbath-Saturday.

She took my niece,
Made her, her-daughter.

Life, a puzzle, a jig saw dance,
Just found, right now, the right spot,
As I espied them, this poem,
Product of a momentary glance.

Another poem, another piece,
When,
She took my niece,
Made her into Her-Daughter.


7:02am

August 24th 2013