Sunday, June 30, 2013

Poem 247 - Confusion - Confusion

Many new beautiful vases in a birthday store
Buying gifts according to Mr. Smith was a bore 
Wondering what to buy for his wife's anniversary
He bought a red rose and went home, gave it to Mrs. Smith in a hurry
 "It's your son's birthday not our anniversary!", she threw the vase on the floor

The fragile vase now broken into bits
Mr. Smith was shocked out of his wits
Slowly the pieces he did lift
His son entered the scene asking for his birthday gift
In confusion of what to say, on a vase piece he sits
~Gaurang Rao

Poem 246 - Battle Against Poverty

Thunder claps, but she keeps on walking
Her basket of mangoes empty now, for hay she starts hunting
Rain drops fall, she quickly covers the hay
A rumble now and then, from the clouds that are grey 

Until she empties her basket of mangoes, she won't go home she swore
About herself she cares less, about her family more
She had taken the hay, to feed her cattle
With poverty, she was having a battle

Little money she got, she spent on her grandson
Whose parents had died, when he was just one
And so she trudges on, not caring a bit about the rain
But little did people know, her story filed with pain
~Gaurang Rao

Poem 245 - Our Own Sleeping Beauty

My dear sister sleeps so much, reminds me of sleeping beauty
She sleeps so much, I wonder if it's her duty
And while she's sleeping, I have to do her chores
I wonder whether she does it on purpose, as she snores
Not Prince Philip, nor a bomb, can wake her from dreamland
She won't wake up if you sprinkle water, or pull her by the hand
Oh my sleeping beauty, why so much sleep?
Can't you wake up to the alarm's beep?
~Gaurang Rao

Written for -

Poem 244 - Autumn Is Near

Orange coloured leaves
Brush past my face with the wind
Oh! Autumn is near

Like hair-loss for us
Now it is leaf-loss for trees
Nature grows them back

Roads covered by leaves
I say to myself again
Oh! Autumn is near
~Gaurang Rao

Written for -

Poem 243 - My Imaginary Island

Wouldn't it be fun, to have an island of my own
Where I'm as free as a bird and where happy memories are grown
A place I would like to call, my very own nation
A beautiful place where people would want to spend a vacation
A fun place, where my wild ideas are put in action, not just kept in words
A calm place, where you can here the melodious songs of birds
A wonderful place, from which you would not want to retreat
A place, where all good things you will meet
A peaceful place, where there are no worries, no crime
A joyful place where you would like to spend all of your time
A happy place, where you would enjoy the sunset
A free place, where you could keep a lizard or even a bear as a pet
A place where you know there are no ghosts crawling
A tension free place, where there's no fear of  bridges falling
~Gaurang Rao

Sunday whirl words used - Island, birds, retreat, wild, bridges, bear, falling (changed the tense of fallen)

Friday, June 28, 2013

Poem 242 - The Fireflies

Jumping and glowing,
Something seems to catch my eye,
Oh! It cannot be!

Fireflies are dancing,
To a beat that I can't hear,

They put some colour
To this dark, lifeless night,
It seems surreal!

Oh! How I would like,
To dance like them for one night,
Jumping and glowing
~Gaurang Rao

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Poem 241 - Smooth Boating Memories

Ah! Summer, a beautiful time to go boating
From here I can see so many boats floating
Evening, a good time to be in the boat
It's getting cold, put on your coat

The breeze, the sunset a beautiful sight
And the lights turn on, significance of night
A relaxing time, a time to enjoy with family and friends
As through the smooth and clear water, the boat curves and bends

I look at the small waves, then the lights in houses
Between people on the boat some happy chatter arouses
What a wonderful time, no tension, no worry
Where you can relax and know their is no hurry
~Gaurang Rao

Poem 240 - The Train Station

To reach Goa, I was waiting for my train
The tracks actually looked insane
It looked like a dump yard filled with garbage and what not
Bottles, papers, cans and even banana peels, left to rot

And what does the station master do with his imperative power
Nothing! His laziness shown in yawns that he doesn't cover
A distant rumble, makes me sure my train has come
The dogs on the tracks, get up slowly and quite glum

Traction of the wheels of the train on the railway track
From a bench, I pickup my suitcase and bagpack
Oh! Trains, for the tracks that you run on, I feel sad
The fact that at-least the trains are fairly clean, makes me glad
~Gaurang Rao

Poem 239 - Crescendo

A monk meditates
Below an old banyan tree
Inhaling nature

Crescendo of noise
Disturbs his meditation 
Group of mourners pass
~Gaurang Rao

Written for -

Saturday, June 22, 2013

Poem 238 - Switched Lunch

My dog's lunch - a bone
He stares at me, not tasty?
He jumps on my lunch

He eats hungrily, 
And there's no food left for me
 I stare at his brown eyes

Ah! No lunch for me
And, was I supposed to eat
His slimy, licked bone?

That's when I wonder
If my dog thinks, that the bone
Is old fashioned food
~Gaurang Rao

Thursday, June 20, 2013

Poem 237 - Enigma

Squirrel stares at me
Big black eyes enchanting me
I try to stare back

What is it thinking? 
Behind those eerie black eyes
Not a single blink

I take a step, but
It runs away suddenly
Ooh! Its haunting eyes
~Gaurang Rao

Poem 236 - Glittering Looks

Frogs jump - in the pond,
Oh! What is that glittering,
It can't be water,

Take a closer look,
And now I can see between,
The stones and pebbles,

Quite a lot of glass,
Broken into sharp pieces,
Be careful dear frogs.

Frogs, water, pebbles,
Beauty of that pond, is now
Destroyed like the glass.
~Gaurang Rao

Sunday, June 16, 2013

Poem 235 - Father's Day

If I was a kite, then my dad my thread, always giving me support,
If I wanted to become King, I know that he will make me a fort,
If I was the sun, then he would definitely be my guiding light,
Giving me words of wisdom, that I shall treasure all day and night.

If I was a plant, then my dad the soil, which supports me as I grow,
If I was a river, then dad my river bed, on which I would flow,
If I was planet Earth, then dad my blanket of atmosphere,
Always protecting me, without even a bit of fear.

If I was a pen, then dad my ink, without which I won't write,
If I was a bird, then dad my wings, without which I couldn't take flight,
And if I am a good being today, it's all thanks to my awesome, loving dad
Oh! It's such a pleasure to think of the fun times we had.
~Gaurang Rao

Friday, June 7, 2013

Poem 234 - The Bench

Just looking around, out in the sun, when someone sits on me
Not the regular people, he's from out of town I do see
A board and brush in his hands, an artist I presume
And on me, to keep his paints, now he makes some room

He opens red, and paints something, I can't see as it's on his lap
He opens blue paint, and seems to forget to cover the red paint with its cap
 I try to imagine what he's painting as there are soft strokes on his board,
I don't know? Is it a building that he is painting? Or maybe it's a Ford?

 I didn't get much time to think, for the red paint spilled as his brush hit it accidentally
It was a surprise, but not much paint fell on me, fortunately
The artist took his paints and coolly he walked away 
But I was called 'The Red Spot Bench', from that day
~Gaurang Rao