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Mac and Bloom
Went up to the Moon

With a Spoon
In search of pretty Alien

They looked here
They looked there

No Alien was found
And time was bound

They returned to earth
Only with some dust
Let's Enjoy Childhood.
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Th­is poem is self translated version of my Hindi language poem titled " कौन है वह" published in Hindi Literary Magazine 'Himprastha' in July 2010
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­Who stitched the moon and the stars on the sky sheet?
Who filled the *** of the earth with such a huge ocean?

Who grew the colorful flowers in the courtyard garden?
Who brought different kinds of creatures in the forest?

From where the butterfly hovering on the flowers came?
From where the beetle flying around the roses came from?

Who taught the birds to twitter such sweet sound notes?
Who made the cuckoo sung a melodious song from neck?

Where the force of gravity in the earth did came from?
Where the water in the flowing rivers did came from?

Who inhabited so many living creatures in the deep sea?
Who made the birds flew even at the height of the sky?

Who gave the cuckoo a sweet and the crow a husky tone?
Who gave heat to the sun and a cold shade to the full moon?

Who gave light body to the ant and a heavy body to an elephant?
Who gave wisdom to the wise and much wealth to the greedy?

Who plated the mountain peaks with multiple layers of snow?
Who made the diamond mines in so much depths of the earth?

Who filled the clear waters in the chest of hard rocks?
Who induced the innocence in the small little children?

Who is he? How is he? who made such a beautiful world
He is GOD, self-proclaimed, who made the whole world

He has no end and has no beginning, he is omnipresent
All this is God's Illusion. This is Illusion of the Almighty

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^­^^^^^^^^^^^^^
कौन है वह ?
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^­^^^^

अम्बर की चादर पर किसने टाँके चाँद सितारे
धरती की गागर में किसने भर डाला सागर

उपवन के आँगन में किसने रंग बिरंगे फूल उगाये
जंगल  के प्रांगण में किसने भांति भांति के प्राणी लाये

पुष्पों पर मंडराती तितली भला कहाँ से आयी
फूलों पर मंडराते भौरें भला कहाँ से आये

पक्षियों को कलरव गीत किसने है सिखलाया
कोयल के मधुर कंठ से किसने गीत गवाया

पृथ्वी में गुरुत्वाकर्षण का बल कहाँ से आया
नदियों की बहती धारा में जल कहाँ से आया

सागर की गहरायी में भी किसने जीव बसाये
अम्बर की ऊँचाई में भी किसने पंछी उड़ाये

किसने दी कोयल को मीठी, कौए को कर्कश वाणी
किसने दी सूरज को गर्मी और चन्दा को शीतल छाया

किसने दी चींटी को हल्की और हाथी को भारी काया
किसने दी ज्ञानी को बुद्धि और लोभी को भारी माया

पर्वत के शिखरों पर किसने हिम कि परत चढ़ाई
पृथ्वी कि गहराई में किसने हीरे कि खान बनाई

चट्टानों के सीने में किसने भर दिया निर्मल पानी
छोटे-प्यारे बच्चों में किसने भर दी नादानी

कौन है वह? कैसा है वह? जिसने सुन्दर जगत बनाया
वह तो प्रभु है, स्वयंभू है, जिसने सारा जगत बनाया

आदि न उसका, अंत न है, सर्वत्र वही तो छाया है
यह  तो  माया  है प्रभु की,  प्रभु  की   है यह सब माया

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Let's Find Out, Who is HE?????
And so the girl child sat
knitting melodies beside
the great river of words.
Soon her songs were heard,
beyond the Lake of Lyrics
and the vast Sea of Verse.

The evening tide carried them
across oceans to foreign shores.
Field workers sang her songs
to children in their hovels.
They escaped the lips of scholars
in the great halls of learning.

The child became a woman,
and still she weaved the magic,
from the words of the river,
for the hearts of all who read them.
As she weaved she told the secret
to a child who knitted beside her.

Emerging from the womb of time
I heard her whisper to my heart.
I felt the great river in my being,
and I began to knit a melody.
I heard my soul sing with joy,
I am the child of an ancient poet.

© 30/12/2009
"I LOVE YOU"
is not enough,
It should be shown in the pattern of devotion for the things you do for each other.
15/9/2019
It breaks my heart to hear myself talk so distantly,
Of trivial and jovial and boyish nonsense.
It breaks my heart to hear you talk so rapturously,
Of desire and passion-lusting, covetous and obsessive ***.
We both know that we talk in safe houses
To avoid the abrasive fact.
We are avoiding talking of love;
That would break our heart.
One of the last conversations a dead man once had
He was a run of the mill
Black and white cat,
a kitten adopted from
a cardboard box, out
front of the Farm store.

Took him home, fed him well,
he soon claimed our barn as
his own place to dwell.

Grew big and fat from eating
rat, roaming the farm from his
home in the loft.

I installed a pet door in the
garage as winter approached,
soon three Barn cats, including
Jerry moved right in, sleeping
all warm and winter content.

Jerry a Super Ninja cat,
hunter extraordinaire,
every day rodent or bird
remains laid at my door.
As Homage or proof
of his hunting prowess.
Unlike the other cats
he was indifferent to the
need of human affection,
aloof and independent.

But as he aged he was not
adverse to claiming my lap,
purring so loud other people
could hear it from a distance,
drooling while purring,
creating small drool puddles
on me before leaving.

He came when I called him,
or when I fired up the barbecue,
He was a supreme feline opportunist.

Jerry was the king of his domain,
strolling the property with regal
impunity. A feline of distinction,
Battle scared from doing his duty.
We all loved him for the guardian
friend he was.

It has been over a month now,
Jerry has completely disappeared,
after being on the job for seven years
never straying or missing.

Taken I surmise by some predator
of wing or paw. We searched and
called but he never returned.

Life's cycle can be cruel, but it's
the order of things. My friend
Jerry cat will be sorely missed.
First my pet mallard male
duck Don of five years taken.
Now Jerry perhaps the same fate,
each a loved friend mourned.
Only animals you say, no not only.
Fallow brown, like he's poured his whole soul out through the gold sieve and lies in wait to be replenished.

2. The color of the ocean. Blue, I guess, but that’s not even the half of it. All the ruggedness of the waves—forming up, breaking, and forming again like life is only the motions. Her eyes are blue, but you could hardly tell.

3. A hand-painted bowl of fresh chocolate frosting from which the most immature hands soonest get a mouthful.

4. Beautiful. Like, drop dead gorgeous. I’d dig my own grave and stick to rolling in it if she ever looked at me some type of way. Their color? I don’t know. But most of all, I dare to wonder about the bludgeoned scar between them.

5. Sturdy cobalt. Far more indicative of her steady heart than gold could ever hope to be. Still susceptible to tear, but not so easily warped by heat or stress.

6. Simply brown. No, red? It’s always been hard to tell through the fog. Truthful like the rawest earth, I’ll call her mahogany.

7. Faded blue spray paint over a slate gray wall. Forcibly muted after her years of blasting music, but there’s still that rogue twinkle to them that I pray slips through the cracks.

8. Coffee, with all the vim and vigor to make you click your heels and fall in love.

9. Unripe lime seen lazing in the shade. Not fit for a margarita just yet, but straining at the bit nonetheless.

10. Hazel, although I still don’t know what the **** that actually is. Whatever. It looks nice on her resume.

11. Green. Or were they blue? The memories of her were too wonderful, too important, that I had to let the littlest details fade away first.

12. The crystallized seafoam that made me realize I deserved to feel alive, too.
Dedicated to any pair of eyes that's ever struggled to raise itself from the sights they've grown used to.
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