Best Whatso Poems
With her pet toy in hand and playing,
In mother’s lap, a strange smile lurking,
To her lullaby whilst listening,
Eyes on Ma, at last succumbs to sleep,
Here’s happiness for me sound asleep.
Their heavy school bags left way aside,
Uniforms too thrown on whatso side,
Back from bunking class, leave un-applied,
Bare bodied when children dance in rain,
Here’s happiness for me sans restrain.
Dreams and young desires dancing in mind,
Two teenagers in tender love blind,
At the appointed place do when find
And haply together smile their smiles,
Here’s happiness to me that beguiles.
Dawns a day, and Ma wakes up early,
Finds the house bare and rather lonely,
And lo, the door-bell rings suddenly,
Her daughter and kids hug her in glee,
Here is crest of happiness to me.
One eve, the sun prepares when to pack,
I see grandpa— nigh bent at the back,
Nostalgic, playing old songs from rack
When breaks into dance that transcends age,
That’s happiness to me freed from cage.
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Based on a Gujarati poem by Shyamal Munshi, titled:
mane to sukh eman dekhaya, transliteration as follows:
ek ramakdun lai mana-gamatun,
mana khole hasatun ramatun,
mithan halardan sambhaltun,
mani same jotun balak unghi jaye,
mane to sukh eman dekhaye.
bhar bharelan daftar khakhi,
ek divas khunaman nakhi,
ninshal man pan chutti rakhi,
bhai-bandho sau thai ughada bhar varshaman nhaye,
mane to sukh eman dekhaye.
ichao laine ubheli,
ek chokari preme gheli,
nishchit sthane pahonchi vaheli,
premi ne jotan ni sathe acherun malakaye,
mane to sukh eman dekhaye.
ek divas ma vaheli jage,
ghar khali-kham sunun lage,
ghar no bel achanak vage,
‘ne bachhane lai dikari malava avi jaye,
mane to sukh eman dekhaye.
chho kede thi hoy valela,
ek sanj ni dubati vela,
dada sahu mitroni bhela,
juni filmo yad kari ne junan gito gaye,
mane to sukh eman dekhaye.
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Translations | 02.01.14 |
Categories:
whatso, happiness,
Form:
Free verse
Here are a handful of hysteric men
That seem to run random in rationed time,
To pour sweat whatso be the reigning clime,
Chasing the ball to goal as oft as can,
Or in defense, for long tenure of ball,
Wasting time or feigning hurt in a mime,
Grit and guts, gumption getting mixed with grime,
All with a view to holding world in thrall.
There too are those sunk deep in cushioned chairs—
Idle but crazy watchers, lazy bones,
Save when they yell, lifeless roadside milestones,
Couch potatoes all flaunting expert airs,
All expert critics stuck within a wall,
Who rather would cheer more than chase the ball.
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Sonnet |02.06.2004| football
Categories:
whatso, football, sports,
Form:
Sonnet
Go gentle into life’s eve, death’s your friend,
Old age clamours to wear a new garment,
Rage not against death, death is not an end.
Should night be dark, dawn sure heralds light, and
Comes bright day, not so being permanent,
Go gentle into life’s eve, death’s your friend.
If life lives, death dares waiting at the bend,
O resist not, death never does relent,
Rage not against death, death is not an end.
Life on death and death does on life depend,
Be it a bird, butterfly, beast or ant,
Go gentle, death is everybody’s friend.
Simple things rule life, should ye understand,
In past nor future, live in the moment,
Rage not against death—never once an end.
And there’s one way to die—bare empty hand,
Whatso ye ever had, to thee was lent,
Go gentle into life’s eve, death’s your friend,
Rage not against your friend, for death’s no end.
Categories:
whatso, death, friend, life,
Form:
Villanelle
Metals at rest as tend to rust,
Love that latches on looks like lust,
As diamonds get made from grey dust,
Ye, Destiny, get deemed unjust.
Yet, whatso lies idle would rust,
Love lost of freedom looks like lust,
Not just diamonds, world’s made from dust,
We tend to forget fiery test!
It might seem so, where’s unjust fate?
Seeds sprout, aloud to say it all,
Man reaps no more than sweat may let,
Fruits, not before they ripen, fall.
He starved of will and manful means,
In grey envy tends to see greens.
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Sonnets | 04.02.2007, revised May 2023|
Categories:
whatso, destiny, fate,
Form:
Sonnet
A man had two horses, each a fine stallion, both buddies and good friends. It so happened, one of them lost eyesight in an accident. For the safety of the blind horse, the owner fixed some copper bells on the neck of the other horse. The blind horse would then follow the one with good eyesight, who would keep a kindly eye on the blind one. The blind one would keep its ears hooked on to the other. A rare friendship of the two horses, that of the eyes and ears. By evening they would return home safe after daylong grazing. One followed the sound, the other sight, both looking after the other.
Does not Existence look after us in the same way? Its immense compassion helps sustain humanity…. with no mean help from some sense of brotherhood among us, of course.
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The thinking head shoring up kindly heart,
The rich on their part parting wealth in part,
On mutual help moves on Existence cart.
Behind the frightened and never so few,
Weapons of brave shine with buttressing hue,
And Existence blesses from unknown blue.
Behind heavenly hearts gears up the grave,
Two sides of coin as if each to each crave,
Existence’s onward journey to pave!
For lifelong one looks after the other,
Life’s scorching sun together to weather,
Mother to offspring, brother to brother!
To the way-lost in this life’s long journey,
Holding hands in care, to accompany,
Share whatso meagre food with the hungry.
Life’s a journey together in a boat,
In deep river, or dour sea set afloat,
And Existence renders a warm fur coat.
It lets an anchor, a needle to north,
Lets mankind to reach to its highest worth,
And so-how Existence moves on and forth.
Or else, what good is one’s kissing the crest?
Man moves forward, mighty heave to highest,
Humanity whilst falls more than modest.
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Introspection |04.01.2022|
Categories:
whatso, brother, introspection,
Form:
Terza Rima
Bring in a boat and quote your cost,
Let me sail to me, quote your cost.
Searching am I for me in vain,
No prize to gloat on, only cost.
To meet real me is more than prize,
To float in bliss’ fair whatso cost.
In a moment to live eons,
Any would vote whatso the cost.
We all are here though life’s a dream,
Why this shrill note on ‘at what cost’?
My pains feel fine out in open,
Wounds rote: shelter at any cost.
It’s fine, mothers love every child,
Not if dote should they know the cost.
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Ghazal |02.05.2022|
Categories:
whatso, life, self,
Form:
Ghazal
Knowing the truth of Christmas gifts’ what’s what,
He tells Santa, I’ve nothing what so sought,
Forget all my wish list,
Let me now clear some mist:
I’ll be thankful, whatso you give, or not.
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Happenings |14.01.2025| Christmas, humour
Poet’s note: This is a sequel to ‘Christmas gifts’. Realizing the futility of hoping to get things from his wish list, Dennis has this to say to old Santa when his turn came. No need to say, Santa was nonplussed.
Categories:
whatso, christmas, humor,
Form:
Limerick
Who so has whatso any,
O deem thou more than plenty,
Fair ‘tis enough fame to fetch,
No one has all of world bounty.
Does Pineapple plant flowers fetch?
Can Forest Flame fruit-bearing be?
Betel-leaf has fruits nor flowers,
Nature to no one all its grace showers.
_____________________________
Translation |09.08.2024| free verse, fate, nature
The Sanskrit verse:
kasya api kah api atishayah asti
saha tena loke khyaati prayaati
na hi sarva-vidah tu sarve |
kim ketakee phalati
kim panasah su-pushpah
kim naagavallaya api cha pushpa-phalaih upetaa ||
Categories:
whatso, fate, nature,
Form:
Free verse
HOW DO I TURN FROM MY WICKED WAYS?
I DON'T WANT TO GO ASTRAY
BACK TO THOSE AWFUL DAYS
BUT WOE UNTO ME IF I STAY
BOUND IN THIS SIN I LAY
WHATSO EVER I SOW I SHALL REAP
BUT KNOWING, HOW DO I GO CALLING?
CALLING FOR MY LOVER THAT'S DEAD TO MY BODY
CALLING FOR DEATH TO COME TAKE ME INTO FOLLY
WHY MY HEART LONG? WHAT DO IT LONG FOR?
I USE TO KNOW, BUT WHAT'S TRULY THERE
TRAPPED BETWEEN GOD AND MY LOVE AFFAIR
HOW LONG WILL THIS LAST? HOW OFTEN WILL TEARS BE MY PAST...
PRESENT AND FUTURE. MY ILLUSIONS ARE TAKING CONTROL OF ME
NO MORE SECRETS CAN BOIL ON THE INSIDE OF ME
I CAN'T TAKE IT, I WON'T OUT OF THIS TRAP
BUT DOUBTFUL, SCARED I'LL BE BACK CRYING FOR HELP.
I KNOW ANSWERS, I KNOW THE JUDGMENT
I'M BETWIXT IN BETWEEN MY SOUL
LIFE OR DEATH
HELP ME NOT TO TURN DOWN YOUR HELP
HELP ME NOT TO FALL IN HIS TRAPS
I'M WEAK AND NEED YOUR STRENGTH
TRAPPED IN BETWIXT LIFE OR DEATH
Categories:
whatso, black african american, confusion,
Form:
Lyric
A prelude to a prompt quick-fire affair,
Nor ever lovelorn heart's innocent heist,
Routine good manners nor eyeful flutter,
Frisson nor frown furrowed, though deemed fairest,
A harmless hailing from the male of sex,
Nor yet the fair sex warmly acknowledging
In a casual way that tends to relax,
Whatso… all show a dearth of good old flirting.
Perhaps people are no more ruled by heart,
Maybe, their sex simmers much more in head,
Or male mystique has turned into tame art,
Gallantry’s nigh but gone, chivalry’s dead.
Seems, Venus shines dim in the evening stars,
And lost has its ruddy red, warring Mars.
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Sonnets | 06.10.2011 |
Poet’s note: The art of good old flirting it seems has gone almost dead. The traditional male etiquette, chivalry, and gallantry survive today only in novels of ere. An average young man has turned timid to make even an eye contact, perhaps for the fear of being charged for sexual harassment or for sheer personal embarrassment. So much as even a harmless appreciative compliment has dried down in civil society. Even in India, the land of nymphs, apsaras, naayikas, and dasis, flirting as a fine art has got all but frozen. In a somewhat humorous tone, this sonnet explores why. The answer is ventured in the Volta voicing from the 9th line.
Categories:
whatso, romance,
Form:
Sonnet
Bare ribs, bones you see whenever,
Alms nor aid, give as if you owe,
Breadcrumbs if not bread, no favour,
Now that you have, O give and go.
Before wiping beads of your sweat,
Think of dabbing poverty’s tears,
Take one lamp off your glitzy gate,
Watch how it fights off neighbour’s fears.
See if a soothing song you sing,
Whilst ye go on your way whatso,
Or cool shades to the scorched you bring,
If you have got, O give and go.
Caught is their boat when in a storm,
Ship-wracked, if death stares in their face,
Be a Pole Star, a pilot home,
Lead them safe to a secure place.
In their sunset O sing of dawn,
Sing it in tune with whatso woe,
Make it heard long after you’ve gone,
Give whatso you have ere ye go.
Upon pedestal pricey shield,
Nor a diamond dazzling alone,
Plough a poor man’s un-furrowed field,
Be manure made with laboured bone.
Let quiet be your kindly feat
That rests not even to wipe brow,
Sweat beads nor reward, sour nor sweet,
Now that you have, O give and go.
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Musings | 02.08.2015 | giving
Categories:
whatso, giving,
Form:
Quatrain
Be it planktons ye feed on or small fish
Afloat in sea on pair of fins as feet,
Whatso waters may have fancied your wish,
Perhaps it was lake as your safe retreat
From fishermen or anglers indiscreet.
Perchance as Cod, your oil livers did cure,
A gourmet chose you for a choicest treat
And picked ye up from a shop floor secure.
O Beauty, fit to be in a fish tank,
What pity, you’re on a kitchen platform,
What travesty of destiny’s fair norm
That you were looked at just as lifeless lank.
Yet, O departed fish, we find you fine,
A fair dish if consumed with table wine.
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Sonnet |05.06.2024| fish
Categories:
whatso, fish, food,
Form:
Sonnet
You may find it empty mirth,
Or some meaningless chatter,
But for how so vague its worth,
I choose to write this letter.
Let me tell you, my old man,
What ‘tis that makes one human.
I scarce know if it’s better
To talk, or write a letter,
But as is self, puffed with pelf,
Rare, it listens to the Self.
To me it’s such a pity
That we humans should know not
What constitutes humanity!
Minus money, its colour,
Prestige or be it power,
Caste or community,
And whatso else and any,
Save, O man your dharma
And born of it your karma,
Then take what’s left as balance—
Which, still is quite so immense,
That is man’s humanity.
____________________________
Monologue |02.09.2021| Free verse
Poet’s note: The true self always tries to be in touch with the pretender self, call it one’s ego, but as it happens it hardly listens. And out of frustration it chooses to write a letter. Yes, it is only a monologue, for I think, no meaningful dialogue is possible with a pretender.
For Letter to your Future Self Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
Categories:
whatso, humanity,
Form:
Free verse
If a man humane is that he ought be,
Maybe, his grit’s grounded by child's good grace,
Or his contented heart’s always happy,
Perchance, he wears a child's innocent face.
Good if he’s wise, far better still if naïve
As to protect his playful little child,
Let him keep child in him for long alive,
If he’s or not with this world reconciled.
Let him love the play more than a game won,
The sun toils hard and still retains bright smile,
The child in him set free lets this happen,
And not whatso howso grave can him rile.
Child knows: life’s seldom made of stuff that weighs,
No grouse is so great O to grieve for days.
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Sonnet |01.10.2006| child
Categories:
whatso, child,
Form:
Sonnet
Why waste time at school and still miss the bus
When ignorance is instantaneous!
In this school we call life,
The best teacher seems strife
That gives great lessons, makes none whatso fuss.
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Tongue-in-cheek |17.11.2024|humour, school, life
Categories:
whatso, humor, life, school,
Form:
Limerick