HIVE OF HONEYED MEMORIES

A treasure to give no chance for stealing,

It is the treasure of sweet memories.

They never know any scope for fading.

They come to my mind in series.

All thoughts proceed to actions,

For memoirs related to actions in store

Ever fresh to call for my reactions,

Always to rejoice me to the core.

The memoirs are like a fresh flower

To gladden my life in freshness

To turn me young in power

That is recollections' real greatness.

I remember those happy days

When I plowed my field by a small plough,

Sowed the seeds in the farming ways

To it, thro papaya leaf-tubes I let water flow.

I recall my tiny mud house, a treasure

With the tobacco stumps as its roof rafters

In and around it, I played in pleasure,

Read my books, now it all matters.

The house built by me safe in summer,

Helplessly collapsed in rains

What pinches, knows the dreamer,

My playing heart was full of pains,

I played Gilli-danda under tamarind trees,

It was the sport, our most favorite,

Playing marbles was our next game,

Swimming was a delightful right.

All those, the hive of honeyed memories

With childhood reminiscences

In my tiny village, still tell joy-stories

In many aspects, mark sweet differences.

Published

Metverse Muse, 80th to 83rd Quadruple Issue.

EXTRA-SUPERMOON

The phenomenon finest, rarest, and fullest

The cosmic variety to mark beauty,

All the sky-gazers witnessed at the closest,

The extra-super moon for their gaiety.

Grown bigger in size, shone brighter in shine,

It is spring after a span of seventy springs,

For its display of dazzles in its glimpse reign,

They felt like flying ever on their wings.

It is fully round to fill in fully wide lashes,

It is the celebration of a unique festival.

To catch its superbly spectacular glimpses,

Really celestial, supernal and carnival.

At high-rise outdoor buildings and, shores

For the perigee-syzygy, the super moon

They forgot their age coming out of doors,

A heaven on earth, the cherished boon.

The babies from arms leaped for its catch.

The children jump to hold in the palms.

The eyes of adults twinkled in their watch.

The old felt the event the blessed alms.

They learnt it the fest to fall a rare befall,

They hid its beauty in gaiety in hearts.

In times of tears and sans nears to recall

To fill joys in their lives of living arts.

Published

Metverse Muse, 80th to 83rd Quadruple Issue.

MILKMAN’S REPLIES

Milk is white like moonlight

Pure like mother’s heart

To say, ‘Milk is milk’, is right

It is nature’s gift, not made in art.

Milk turns something to shine

Like milk but it is never pure

In the age of science and its reign,

It can be in six-tastes, it is true.

It can be thin, milky water

Or watery milk, it can be thick,

It can be hot or sweet or bitter

Acrid or any as per the trick.

The milkman replies in the ways

To convince his every customer,

“My buffalo drinks water always

So, milk is milky even with water.”

“Milk looks thick for it eats flour,

Bitter for it eats bitter guard at will”,

“It tastes sweet, my children four

Offer chocolates, all together fill.”

“Milk smells pungent, it drinks gum”

“It eats chilly, so milk is hot to be pure,

Its habits are so, it never keeps mum,

Its milk prevents ills, no need of cure.”

Prepare milk milkmen in mixingart

All do not know what they are all,

It is artificial, cheating on their part

To the milk, for sure, victims all fall.

Published

Metverse Muse, 80th to 83rd Quadruple Issue.