Sharmishtha Basu's Blog: Sharmishtha Basu writes, page 195
June 28, 2017
Thursday Rhymes 29.6.17
Every evening they come, right from eastern sky, full of promise
the sun gets dimmed, wind starts blowing, a little colder than noon.
One hopes against hope it will rain, it will rain today!
Sometimes they disappear within an hour, sometimes they linger.
Like the carrot hanging in front of a horse to lure it to trot forth!
To give it the false hope that it will soon be in its mouth,
tasty, juicy, sweet carrot will be its delight!
Sometimes the man pities the beast and gives it to it,
and sometimes like a wicked kid he just lures it.
Skies are playing the same game with us every single day,
the clouds they come dance and wind sings.
We watch the party from down below, sometimes the
cruel lightning joins in, once in a while they drop a few drops!
But that is all they do! They tempt us and then run away,
We sit down here, gaping like the horse, hoping for the
delicious, all satiating rain.
June 24, 2017
June 21, 2017
Thursday Rhymes 22.6.17
Is not he that man, who you heard preaching the virtues
of love, kindness, forgiveness and all good things?
The man that is baying for the blood of the monster
who ruined his favorite garden?
Where did that preaching mode go? Where did that
deep faith in love, kindness, forgiveness disappeared?
When it came to the hurt, destruction of others,
he was the first one to sing songs of virtues,
how angels forgive, weak hearts have not the power!
How forgiveness is sign of man, without it a heart is stone,
now he is sitting there, frothing from mouth, cursing his heads off,
plotting fifty plots to settle his score!
Just because some monster ruined his flowers, tore them to pieces
and flattened plants to ground!
You can still hear him preaching forgiveness to those whose lives
have been destroyed like his favorite garden, ripped to pieces, crushed
ruined beyond repair. How loudly he preached them!
How opinions change when victims change, when others hurt some
never feel the pain.
June 17, 2017
June 14, 2017
Thursday Rhymes 15.6.17
Ah the wicked wicked wolf, shrewd as one can be,
She trots with the sheep, wearing one’s skin.
That poor lamb was her first kill, too gullible for own sake.
She devoured her, chewed her to the last bone and then
suddenly the idea popped up in her mind, what if…
What if she wore its skin and trotted with the sheep.
When the shepherd was not watching she may lure one,
to take a walk with her to far away meadow where grass was greener.
Oh that will be so delicious, sooner or later a fool will fall,
and take that last walk with her, that will mean meal for few days,
then she will resume her post.
Till date she lives with herd of sheep, hops from one herd to other.
To avoid being branded as suspicious and preys on the innocents.
Using their gullible trusting nature she gets her prey without a fuss,
no hunting, no toil required only treachery and cunning!
That suits her quite well.
June 10, 2017
June 7, 2017
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