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Poetry offerings from T. Ashok Chakravarthy | Poem


YES,  WHY   OFTEN ?   /   Yet Somehow…..




page 2

to Moongate



Human, O human...
Besieging the human instinct
With unceasing greed
Often you become blind
Whenever …….
You invade others’ weakness
You ignore others’ sufferings
You snatch others’ rights
You betray others’ faith
You enjoy others’ possession
You provoke others’ feelings
Why ?  Yes, why …….?
Why often you become blind?

Often you torture yourself, yes,
To fulfill desire after desire ?
For sure you cease to exist one day
Losing riches, aristocracy and everything.
Yes, but why….
Why often you become blind?
Why often you aspire to be a slave?
.... to snatch, betray, invade,
Ignore, enjoy, procure and provoke.

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Yet Somehow...

No regrets
As yet, I have not come out
Not come out
From the trauma of losing you
Yes, oh my mother !

No regrets
Yes, I want to stay on
Stay on in the warm trauma
Of your fond memories
Yes, oh my mother !

No regrets
Yes, the sweet longings roll
Roll on to the recent-past
Where childhood and youth
Salute your love, divine
Yes, oh my mother !

The affection bestowed
The right paths exposed
Made me what I am today
To see a bright tomorrow
Yes, oh my mother !

But, your untimely loss
Leave me astray
Like a rudderless boat
Stuck in a devastate storm;
Yet somehow ……
I have to push through
To fulfill your valued aspirations.

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The chances for establishing peace
The hopes for lasting solutions
Yes, find not any conducive source
To pay a whole-hearted salutation
Is this a perpetual disgrace?

While the provocation's of war
Move from continent to continent,
Fear gripped, the normal people are
With outcome, un-viable to predict
Is this a perpetual disgrace?

The past devastations still unfold
Scores mourning the loss of dear ones
While dwellings got razed to ground
Overall the victims are innocent humans
Is this a perpetual disgrace?

A child weeps in search of a lost mother
A wife mourns her lost husband
A mother cries for her family entire
In such circumstances, where do we stand,
Is this a perpetual disgrace?

Supremacy through waging a war
A crime inexcusable against human race,
An offensive against ecology and nature
Which pave way for an ultimate disgrace
Is this a perpetual disgrace?

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As a routine
Today too begins
With bleak hopes.
Though unsure
On road side stage,
Life somehow
Passed off
With little hardship.
The journey
Of an orphan
On the paths
Of orphanage
Remain content
With stretched palm
Seeking alms.
Forced by hunger
Ignored by society
Would they end-up
As child laborers
Quite unstable,
Quite unsure
Of tomorrow's wage.
Isolated by love
Displaced by care
Abandoned …..
On a dismal note
To own fate
How do they cope
The hassles of life
Alone, unaware
Where innocence
Already lay hacked
By destiny, ruthless.
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In a deep contemplative mood
Beside the window when often I sit
Sheltered by memories, I slip to brood
Ruffling the volumes of memories, past.

Midst the waves of blinking thoughts
My mind glows like a crescent moon
The cloud is a paper, plain and white
Jotting a few lines, indeed is a boon.

I know the delights of rain filled clouds
I know the charm of a glowing rainbow
But viewing the inward bound dry clouds
The seeds of dissent are instantly sown.

Bringing to mind the mundane miseries
Joy cannot be an accomplice in solitude
In the silent valley of fading aptitude
Encircled by uncertainty, joy too suffers.

View the beauty and delights of nature
Two pigeons play in a romantic flirt
Their joy is joy, their world is merely theirs
Here indoor, a new world I opt to insert.

If my dreams shrink in the lake of illusion
Like a small pebble, if solitude is thrown
Ripples are drawn in a state of confusion
Distracting entire stillness within a fraction.

Back to square one, I slip into thoughts
To enjoy the delight of illusions, perhaps.

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Without mercy
Lives countless
Thrown into graves
By nature's fury
Into the lap
Of mother earth.

The Tsunami ….
Ruin beyond imaginations
Rage beyond limitations
The mother of disasters
Shattered the mankind,
Shook the universe
Unfolding its might
By scripting a catastrophe.

Nations lay shattered
Lives suffer orphaned
Shelterless and aimless
Millions look frightened
Staring the empty skies
With bleak prospects.

Oh nature ….
Revered all these decades
As a beautiful,
God-gifted marvel;
All of a sudden
You lifted your mask
With a deceit intent
And pounced
Like a thirsty doomsday
With a ghostly image
To quench your thirst
With your own-loved ones.

O ! Ferocious Tsunami
Will you awaken once again
To script another version
Of yet another disaster ?
Through scared ….
Yet praying for good times
Let's approach the survivors
And offer some succor
To whatever extent we can.

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The scars of starvation
The fears of isolation
Both prey on poverty
A trail of death without mercy
Has been left behind
To pounce perpetually.

The showers may welcome soon
Crops may flourish like a boon
Yet poverty flourishes to torment
All through ages, without vent
The thirst of death doesn't end
Till an alternate to hunger is found
Possibly by the mercy of the rich
But, who has time to think-over?

Hunted by death, tamed by hunger
Poverty governs the fate of poor
In askance, if one thinks it over
Where do the merciful strings dwell?
Are they at the doorstep of rich?

Cursed by fate
Accursed by destiny
The plight of the poor
Like a common phenomenon
If ignored, routinely
How can poverty be eradicated?
How can the poor cope
enough to survive?

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A lone child survives
Midst a heap of corpses
Only devastation is visible
To the farthest eye's view.

The sleeping beauty, nature
If awakened all of a sudden
To quench its demanding hunger
Humanity falls prey to its act.

Clouds burst with torrential floods
Volcanoes explode with surging lava
Tornados blow with shocking rage
Earth shatters with major tremors.

Not only does nature chillingly ruin
Nature's own creative landscapes
But unhesitantly as well ruins
The man-made beautiful locales.

The aftermath of nature's fury
Dumps us into waves of shock
It may take a decade to recover
Yet, what more will befall by then?

The orphaned are left to fate
The survivors are left to repent
Days and months lapse in routine
While memory into past, fades.

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