A Flower
==========
------------
---------------
------------
---------------
-------------
----------------
-------------
----------------
------------
~~~~~~~~~
A Flower
Born, in a soft morn
A hundred of the worthy sons
To a proud mum-
A cute flower
The cluster of petals
The garden’s crown.
In the name of brotherhood, they
Took a vow for the day
To flourish and perish
In their worldly togetherness
For the beauty’s sake.
Their playmate, honeybee
Came to them
Swirling and humming,
They all swung in unison
For a cheery play spell
Breaking the burdensome tranquility
In
a lovely chirpy excitement.
The end of the day
Along the rhymes of fading rays
Left them dosing intoxicated
Through the thrills
Of their meaningful existence,
Before they could melt into dreams
They bowed their heads
In their sublime gratefulness.
A lone petal
Can hardly make a flower,
A lone baby -howsoever rosy
Fails to bloom for the moments frisky,
More of them, merrier is the game,
Their cry and quarrels carry the laurels
For the success in struggles
Of our
mundane existence.
VISAKHAPATNAM
28-11-1998
Labels: In Harness: my old poems
posted by The Unadorned | 5:18 AM
2 Comments:
Sir,
An ordinary happening when passes thro the eyes of imaginative poet converted into impressive poem. All the five stanzas are interestingly enjoyable , but especially the second staza.
“In the name of brotherhood, they
Took a vow for the day
To flourish and perish
In their worldly togetherness
For the beauty’s sake.”
Every creation has a purpose, may be little or huge, but the rule of nature governs in orderly manner. The poem “A Flower” flourishes enthusiasm in the reading minds.
Thanks for the nice Post, sir
---- N.Subramanian , Tirupur
Thanks NS. You words of appreciation mean so much to me. You may go through this poem of by Ben Johnson (1572-1637)
It is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make man better be;
Or standing long an oak, three-hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald and sere.
A lily of a day,
Is fairer far in May,
Although it droop and die that night,
It was the plant and flow'r of light.
In small proportions we just beauties see;
And in short measures, life may perfect be.
Post a Comment
<< Home