Skip to main content

An ode to my creator




Wonder of wonders lies in here,
every creation profound and unique,
I admire God in his own, beautiful way,
for it is his creations that I ponder about every moment.

The water serene and flowing,
with its tiny ever-altering ripples,
thin as air and cool as snow,
created by the ardent scientist of an unborn past.

 The greenest blade of grass,
shooting up from nowhere in the wet soil,
with it's thousand little creases,
stunningly done by the loveliest child in heaven.

 The sky , where it ends,
ever a mystery, with its blend of a thousand colours,
and holding sheep like furry white clouds,
painted with the perfect hands of a thriving artist.

 The jubilant sun,with its infinite rays of heat,
scorching earth, like the nearest glowing candle,
which melts down as the night arrives,
and gives room for darkness to surround,
is lit with love by the caring mother.

 The leaves with its thousand nerves,
tender green, soft as the velvet and perfectly shaped,
sticking to the branches by the weak stems,
created by the humble and generous being.

The huge shades of green flowing from the top,
give us a cool shelter and pure air to breathe
planted caringly by the mystic who embraces silence.

The distant stars embedded in the huge velvette spread,
glow like diamonds which light our pathway to happiness
which was strewn over by the generous king of the kings.

The chill drops falling from the sheep-like clouds of the endless sky,
rejuvenate the lands which shoot out tiny living green,
which was so heartily splayed over by the almighty.

The music of the sturdy bamboo occuring from the dense forest winds,
soothes our heart with its enigmatic embrace,
which was most carelessly composed by the greatest musician in heaven.

The curious innocence in every child's smile,
the flowing mane on the horse's neck,
the magnificent mountains which tower the sky,
the still hole of silvery bliss,
the archway of seven colours after the rains
are all most passionately streaked by the artist's golden hands.

Oh! What beauty!
what serenity beholds my sight!
I salute the architect of my existence in this dreamland!

Comments

  1. How eloquently and beautifully you write, G. This poem reminds me of the song, "All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small."

    I wonder why you get no comments. We've got to do something about that!

    Joy always,
    Susan

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thank you Susan. I guess there might not be many takers for poetry. I am working on the difficulty in the comment box. :) Thanks again for reading! :)

    Gayathree

    ReplyDelete
  3. Oh Wow.. you have summarized everything quite brilliantly.. really beautigul..

    The greenest blade of grass,
    shooting up from nowhere in the wet soil,
    with it's thousand little creases,
    stunningly done by the loveliest child in heaven.

    esp. loved these lines..

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Speak your mind

Popular posts from this blog

FOUND

                                                                    Image: Internet
If you had missed the previous chapters of the story: Click here Chapter 1Chapter 2

CHAPTER 3


It was the fall again, they had gone for a stroll outside the university campus into the beautiful park where snowy trees surrounded the white spread and there were very few passers-by due to the freezing chill.
The two of them hovered around enjoying the beauty carpeted around them. Maureen had already gone down, working her gloved hands into the snowy layers. She started rolling a huge ice ball with a grin on her pink face. Steve looked at her dazed by the tinkle of her eyes and the jingle that her laughter spread in his heart.  The moist wind ruffled her blond hair, some of which fell onto her face like a wave onto the shores.
Steve just stood there with his hands folded, his lips curved into a mesmerizing smile and his eyebrows were arched in sheer amazement of what was happening to him that moment.   He felt…

Being humane

Every dawn dooms with wail


I never opine but in my daze,

For I am human, humane.

Image courtesy: Internet

To write is to dwell

FEBRUARY 15th, 2012





















What writing means to me...

As lonely as a cloud, as boring as boredom itself, I was. I grew up as a typical child at school but a very hefty one, I am still the same. I managed to cheer people with my innocence but did not manage to make happy friends to last a lifetime because of my gross physique. I couldn't play as I had no playmates at home and my only hobby was to sit and watch tv.

When I was studying in kindergarten, I used to visit a nearby shop with my dad. My dad was busy shopping for groceries and I engaged myself in observing things around me. The people who had mixed emotions that outshone on their faces, an old man cycling with a lot of strain, probably getting back home, the lady vendor with her dirty saree pinned up to her waist and squatting on the floor, selling vegetables, the autowala bargaining with his potential customer, the green trees which arched high with its countless leaves, the flowers that smile at me on the road side, happy child…