It is time...

Confined to the hospital bed,
I breathe fear, anger, dread,
Eyes brimming with unsolicited tears,
Mind reliving a turbulent year,
The road has been rough, the journey tough,
Few peaks...and countless troughs.

Heart shutting away the sounds of a bell,
Chiming in the ancient temple,
The endless prayers, the incessant chants,
The priest's words, the crowds rants,
Now, a strain of melodious songs,
A corner of the heart, now slowly longs,
To open up, let in His radiant light,
To hold His hand, trust Him to guide.

Once again, I hear the bells chime,
And somehow, I just know it's time,
To let The Light dispel the fears,
To let The Hand wipe away my tears,
Breathe hope, let go, and look ahead,
Forget the pain, the anger, the dread...

With tears once again - this time, of gratitude,
I thank Him - for getting me safely to the hospital bed.

Lend Wings to My Dreams

I look up at the skies,
With longing in my eyes,
Searching...
Ahh! There...I see my friends,
And I dream once again,
Of conquering the heavens,
Behind these bars, my wings ache,
For the flight that they long to take,
I pray to Him for a kind soul,
To come my way and open the door,
Set me free from these iron beams,
And lend wings to my dreams.

Oh God, I am in love!

I take him into my arms,
And the world around me, fades into oblivion,
I ache all over and pull him closer,
Little fingers curl around mine,
In a moment so eternally divine,
Perfect little eyes and nose,
Perfect little fingers and toes,
The heartbeat, the rhythmic breath,
A lease of life, sprung from my own womb,
And I think again,
That all the pain,
Has been worth it,
If there's pure bliss, it is this, it is this, and it is this,
Oh God! I am in love...smitten...besotted.
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Also at: http://www.museindia.com/viewrep2.asp?id=35319

Happy Birthday, Krishna

Happy Birthday, dear Krishna, my friend, philosopher, guide,
My protector, my companion, always by my side;
You've been there for me ever since I remember,
In you I've found a sibling, an elder brother,
Walking along with me when life is a bed of roses,
When the path is strewn with thorns, carrying me on your shoulders,
Playing silly pranks on this little sister of yours,
Holding my hands when I feel scared and lost,
Listening to my complaints, always with a smile,
Even when I've been unreasonable all the while,
Watching over me, even as I peacefully sleep,
Knowing that my little secrets safely you will keep,
Your janamdin dear Gopala, is a special occasion for me,
Please accept this little gift of love on Janmashtami.

The Canvas

A shroud of grey on the canvas above,
Bringing forth showers of blessings and love,
The sleeping earth springing to life,
A million greens coming alive.

Shyly peeping from behind the shroud,
Mustering courage, and stepping out,
A smile spreading, one end to the other,
A royal welcome, a garland of seven colours.

Slowly the canvas, changing again,
Strokes of white, rising up like waves.
Expanses of blue, like the seas below,
Splashing over to a grey sea shore.

Suddenly, a million hues of red,
Yellows and saffrons, carelessly painted,
Peaches and pinks, splashed recklessly across,
Behold! The masterpiece of them all.

Finally, the Artist covers the canvas,
With a black veil decked with gems and studs,
A new day will dawn, and yet more new art,
And new masterstrokes to bewitch the heart.

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View pics of the Canvas @ http://picasaweb.google.com/preeta.chandran/SkyTheCanvas?feat=directlink

Taken from my Bberry during a walk in the park on a beautiful monsoon evening, which also inspired this poem

The Pine

Lone, solitary, tall, and majestic,
The Pine stands there, looking so proud,
The sky above, the hills beyond,
And caressed gently by a cloud.

As I look out of the arched window,
I think she looks beautiful and fine,
Without a care in the world, she stands,
And I realize, I so envy the pine.

Swaying gently, she flirts with the wind,
And romances the golden morning rays,
She lets the dew drops kiss her gently,
And tantalizes the sky with her charming ways.

And suddenly, I realize, I too can be free,
I'm a prisoner, a slave, only to my thoughts,
My soul, can it be chained, if it refuses to be?
I open the door, and then, I step out.

I spread out my arms and look up at the sky,
The sun now smiles warmly at me,
A song fills my heart, a light, my soul,
I dance with the universe, to the eternal melody.

Nature's Music

With the first rays of the sun,

Begins nature's symphony, her song,

Chirping happily, as birds welcome the dawn,

And the larks and the cuckoos sing along.

The melodious notes of the nightingale,

So pleasant, so beautiful, and oh! so fresh,

Stirring within me something humane,

Some feelings, unknowingly put to rest.

The twitter of a sparrow, or the cackle of geese,

The quacking of ducks, or the cock's waking call,

The cawing of crows, the humming of bees,

The gurgling sound of a waterfall.

With the first drops of rain,

Peacocks dance to nature's tunes,

Once dry rivers, now gurgling, their musical strain,

The murmur of trees in a breeze so cool.

The cuckoo announcing the arrival of Spring,

The gifted musician in Queen Earth's court,

The Queen she praises, in a voice so charming,

Or perhaps, she signs of the glory of God.

In a peaceful, cloudless, moonlit night,

The musicians all go to rest;

And all around descends a quiet,

That again they may strive to give their best.

And day after day, year after year,

Eagerly, I switch on to nature's music,

And howsoever much of it I hear,

It seems ever new, ever fresh, and ever unique.