PUNCTUALITY

The sun is unblemished

The fixed punctuality

The sun follows 

As a model to the whole universe.

The life journey of the sun

Relentlessly goes on

From waking up in the morn

To go to bed to sleep in the night.  

The sun gets ready 

And blows away 

The dark-blue clouds 

That plot for devouring him.

The sun as one with equanimity

Makes the chill shiver 

When it tricks to make the sun

Shiver by its knacks.

In a heavy downpour

Without holding an umbrella

Without getting drenched a little

The ray-armed sun goes 

As usual without getting drenched

Without holding an umbrella.

When it is night

The sun 

To get ready for sleep

Sleeps while reviewing all the incidents 

That took place throughout the day.

The sleeping suns

Now and then dreams

When the acts of darkness

That secretly took place

Appear moving

On the screens of dreams

The sun getting startled and annoyed

Feels like rising

To teach them a lesson 

As a witness,           

Time watches all that

Warns the sun saying

"You are breaking the punctuality 

That you follow; it is not good.

And hints at it to see that the evil acts

Do not take place

Tomorrow onwards"

The sun thanks time,

That serves for him as a model,

Sleeps very soundly then,

Expressing thanks. 

Source: Poem-9 'Samaya Palana', Vaakkuku Vayasu Leidu : A Collection of Poems, Vareinya Creations, Hyderabad, P23-25

Published

Poetcrit Vol: 36 No. 2 July-Dec, 2023

MOTHER'S CALL

My village calls me.

It wishes 

That I should turn my childhood 

Into children’s films 

To display on the mind screen

And watch them.

Showering love,

The adjacently flowing stream 

Asks me, "Do you remember me?"

How can I forget it?

I keep hearing my dances in youth

Beneath the banyan tree on its bank 

As rhythmic sounds of drums.

The messages in tunes 

I sent to the welkin, 

Lying reverse on its dry sand-bed,

Are buzzing even now.  

I recall how I innocently asked

The maize-cobs risen just them 

When they would be ready

In my hands to relish.

When we, the boys of my age, united

All streets of my village

Joined us playing rhythms.

Sometimes the running calves

Sopped in a sudden.

Nodding their heads

Joined us extending their company

All the incidents 

Keep flashing, on the screen of my mind,

Scenes after scenes,

When the village calls me

It all appears 

As if my mother in the form of the tomb

To be calling.

Although my mother is not before me

She is alive in the form of my village.

Source: Dr. C. Narayana Reddy's poem Ekkadunna' from Vaakkuku Vayasu Leidu : A Collection of Poems, Vareinya Creations, Hyderabad, P47-48

Published

Poetcrit Vol: 36 No. 2 July-Dec, 2023