Playing the Game-A poem

Life is a game with a glorious prize,
If we can only play it right.
It is give and take, build and break,
And often it ends in a fight;
But he surely wins who honestly tries
(Regardless of wealth or fame),

He can never despair who plays it fair
How are you playing the game?

Do you wilt and whine, if you fail to win
In the manner you think your due?
Do you sneer at the man in case that he can
And does, do better than you?
Do you take your rebuffs with a knowing grin?
Do you laugh tho' you pull up lame?

Does your faith hold true when the whole world's blue?
How are you playing the game?

Get into the thick of it - wade in, boys!
Whatever your cherished goal;
Brace up your will till your pulses thrill,
And you dare - to your very soul!
Do something more than make a noise;
Let your purpose leap into flame

As you plunge with a cry, "I shall do or die,"
Then you will be playing the game.

Just One -A poem

One song can spark a moment,
One flower can wake the dream
One tree can start a forest,
One bird can herald spring.

One smile begins a friendship,
One handclasp lifts a soul.
One star can guide a ship at sea,
One word can frame the goal

One vote can change a nation,
One sunbeam lights a room
One candle wipes out darkness,
One laugh will conquer gloom.

One step must start each journey.
One word must start each prayer.
One hope will raise our spirits,
One touch can show you care.

One voice can speak with wisdom,

One heart can know what's true,

One life can make a difference,
You see, it's up to you!

A sad child

You're sad because you're sad.
It's psychic. It's the age. It's chemical.
Go see a shrink or take a pill,
or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll
you need to sleep.

Well, all children are sad
but some get over it.
Count your blessings. Better than that,
buy a hat. Buy a coat or pet.
Take up dancing to forget.

Forget what? 
Your sadness, your shadow,
whatever it was that was done to you
the day of the lawn party
when you came inside flushed with the sun,
your mouth sulky with sugar,
in your new dress with the ribbon
and the ice-cream smear,
and said to yourself in the bathroom,
I am not the favorite child.

My darling, when it comes
right down to it
and the light fails and the fog rolls in
and you're trapped in your overturned body
under a blanket or burning car,

and the red flame is seeping out of you
and igniting the tarmac beside your head
or else the floor, or else the pillow,
none of us is; 
or else we all are. 

The Unknown Path-A Poem

The early morning fog clouds his vision,
yet he can make out her outline
within the shroud of the heavy mist.

Her divine figure entices him to join her,
while she also signals with a finger to follow.

He is hesitant to traverse this unknown path,
but her smile, like a beacon welcoming
weary seafarers, seduces his senses,
and so he complies with her request.

In what seems like hours, he follows her,
his heart craving the delights she promises;
so blinded is he in his singular pursuit,
he does not notice their space never narrows.

Then in the distance he hears the familiar
wails of a siren, warning him to return.

But he already knows it is too late,
for he is now lost in his dream.

Minority Poem

In my room, I talk 
to my invisible guests: 
they do not argue, but wait 

Till I am exhausted, 
then they slip away 
with inscrutable faces. 

I lack the means to change 
their amiable ways, 
although I love their gods. 

It's the language really 
separates, whatever else 
is shared. On the other hand, 

Everyone understands 
Mother Theresa; her guests 
die visibly in her arms. 

It's not the mythology 
or the marriage customs 
that you need to know, 

It's the will to pass 
through the eye of a needle 
to self-forgetfulness. 

The guests depart, dissatisfied; 
they will never give up 
their mantras, old or new. 

And you, uneasy 
orphan of their racial 
memories, merely 

Polish up your alien 
techniques of observation, 
while the city burns

Nature is what we dont see

nature is what we dont see
for instance the essence that pushes words out
for this poem fated for posterity
the birds that without fail
chirp at first light, morn breeze
the unseen clock working at the dot
nature is what we dont see
the nocturnal bloom, that folds itself
in the day, throws its fragrance
in the dead of night as lovers
hide in each others' bossoms
below the soft glare of the moon
centimetre by centimetre
it has inched forward to exhibit its 
full blown majestry to the world
Nature is what we dont see
the shadow play master tilting the earth
the petals for its bloom dance
the successive cells here there
guided towards optimal functions
and that ogiasmic tremour
that shuttles the world round and round
nature is what you should not see
the formulas, secrets kept behind everything
that could get even einstein mad
in unveiling, explaining them
nature is what we all should not see
nor equipped to see
though it rambles through our every cell
like the worst of storm

Gods Gift : Nature

When the beautiful morning comes
The rays of rising sun kiss her
When the garden of nature open its heart
The garden of flowers hugs her to welcome
When the trees dance to tune of wind
The birds singing to the nature's choir
When the gentleness of nature is filled pleasure
Then the earth get wet with weather
When the nature forgets its vastness
Then the God shows her how big her place on earth
Let us thank God for his creation and given us
eyes to see lovely gift - Nature