white enclaves
gated jails
urban slums
where the sun is pale
two sides of a coin
can’t you see
in the land of the grave
and the home the rich flee
A beggar grabbed my hand and cried for some spare change.
At first, I offered him a sweet memory of food or a tasteless sip of divine water, but he asked for money.
I had a heavy coin and gave it to him.
I wondered why he took only the money, and when he saw it, he immediately placed it in a different spot.
I asked why.
I offered you food and water—you rejected both, and now you hide the coin.
He said it was the most different one, and if he didn’t hide it, other people would start accusing him that the coin was wrong, that it shouldn’t be used—because its print was different, because its color didn’t match theirs.
But tell my friend, you must have moved a lot.
Oh sure, I’ve been in a constant journey:
To a beggar for a few biscuits bought,
With a child thrilled as if with a trophy,
On pilgrimage, or in some wishing wells,
In temples, helping with a layman’s faith,
A rupee coin many a tall wall scales,
In constant motion, often out of breath,
And still, my life was truly well its worth
As measured by how useful really is,
High birth nor ever large acres of girth…
The note’s eyes were nigh moistened hearing this.
As I woke, thoughts took me to my childhood--
What pennies and pies could give-- thrill so good!
_____________________
Sonnet | 29.07.2025 | money, journey
Note: Pennies and pies: a rupee then had 64 old paisa, and each of which fetched three pies, and they all ran a long distance for me, every single pie was valued, which today even a rupee fails to fetch. Today’s paisa (all the hundred of them) is accounted for only by accountants on paper. Two-thousand rupee note no more in currency.
Last night I dreamt I was one-rupee coin
Who met a two-thousand rupee crisp note
In a rich man’s pocket, looking so keen
At the exalted worthy of my vote.
The note asked: you find anything funny?
No, but you must have moved many a miles,
Which, a penny like me cannot any,
The coin wondered. No, caught I was on isles
All along, detained as if in dark land--
In lockers, safe from prying eyes of law,
Until given was to a corrupt hand,
No, there’s nothing in me to inspire awe.
All life I’ve spent oh in utter darkness,
Relieved I feel at last this to confess.
_____________________
Sonnet | 28.07.2025 | money, journey
What's true for you
even if it is insanity
may not be the same for me
as we each have our own reality
'There's two sides to every coin'
some are said to say
'But what about the edge,
when one is on display,
showing tails and the obverse?'
as a numismatist I insist
even a mirror reflects the reverse
yet when confronted with a conundrum
maybe at least you and me
will resolve the knotty quandary
with compromise and both agree to disagree
I am a penny and
I've been around
For centuries, some of
Us are worth a small fortune
Others not so much
We're being phase out
And I won't exist
Anymore, it will
Make me more valuable
One day but I don't
Want to leave
The roar of the crowd fills the air
The whistle blows, my heart pumping
Bucket for Bucket, foul for foul
A free shot soon to be coming
A needed break for the fans and players
As the game comes to a pause
The team devises their next move
A new perfect plan without flaws
A tense feeling overtakes the room
As the game is nearing a close
As every viewer is on the edge of their seat
A team’s grit and clutch begin to show
The end of a tied game, the tension rises
One chance and one shot each team owns
The suspense, sharp in this one moment
As both team’s fate still unknown
As the ball drops through the net
The crowd arises in loud cheers
One team is left with joy and victory
While the other is left in sorrowing tears
You can struggle In your dealings on earth
You may achieve all and end up a loner
Whom presumes life’s success and timing as a coin.
Through your shadows; find light
In your peril seek peace
In your loneliness seek companion
If you find one, tell the tale,
Write the song and sing your praise everyday.
If you find no place to call home
Live in harmony with yourself
And when it is time to leave
Bid a farewell and transit in peace.
Most counsellors will tell you,
That its is all about you,
And how it is up to you,
To do everything for you,
To treat you,
And find ways to move forward to a better space,
for the sake of you.
70 years life experience among others,
Who think of others,
Do things because of others,
Do things for others,
Do things with others,
Value others,
Value their mothers,
Or Fathers,
Or even children from others,
Because they have been mentored by others,
Because they see pleasing some others,
Who see you as one of the others,
Who see the real you, in need of others
Or have saved you from one or more not nice others,
As a way to bring out the best version of you.
A you who has always pleased themselves,
Will never see themselves,
As needing others,
Until they find a version of themselves,
Talking to a counsellor about themselves,
Because they have been left behind by others.
A super confident you,
Sees others in the same boat as you,
Others who have been shown both sides of the coin,
To know how best to join in,
Given the you, that was born in,
To a world that is confusing day out and day in.
Coin toss
Close eyes, deep breath
Fingers crossed on both hands
Make a wish for your top desire
Open eyes.
shiny gold coin ~ a small piece of art caressed in her hand
a curious coin flipped free and fell forever fishing forgotten wondrous waves woven wide in a wishing well.
on it wandered heeding head and telling tale of a decisive certain self as written in "the tomes of twi,"
(tw0 t1mes as binary transcribed, preserved there once for each possible i)
deep deep down in mother drowned the coin where by and by
such hopeful heat grew glorious great and there where through and through
rock flows into and knows each other as it's one true self.
the coin once tossed now at a loss for ways as it draws near:
it felt the sway it knew so clear at start was at an end.
no longer flipped, but rather dripped,
as the heart it did approach with glee.
shuddering round and up and down it came to rest right here:
and here, the tomes of twi concur, some miracle occured...
for as a dot.
will light a line
the coin this time did rightly left decree:
to be nothing more than mystery?
the one true way, as some might say,
was told that day upon a sphere,
and there we see ourselves entwined
upon a perfect mirror.
A tiny, glowing, wing-ed creature flies
to homes around the world in every land
compelled to take each tooth we lose and then,
to sneak a coin to sleepers whilst they sigh
as wispy whistles whoosh from holes inside
and taking the milk teeth we lose as planned
when growing up from baby boy to man.
What does a tiny tooth for fairies buy?
Perhaps a car or wand or just some bread?
Ten molars for to rent a fairy flat?
I do believe in fairies, Come on, clap!
And some say that they eat the teeth instead!
Do they get more if they battle the cat?
Who takes their teeth when they grin with a gap?
There've been moments when 'twas courage I needed
like the time I climbed to the crest of a mountain
to overcome my fear of heights. It was superseded
with bravery I found in myself to give me credibility
instead of wishing by throwing a coin in the fountain.
Quarters, nickels, pennies wasted, tossed in futility.
To Rome's Trevi they flock as if that fountain was magic.
Closing their eyes in hopes that wishes will come true,
but crushed when their dreams were lost... how tragic.
Coins beneath the water's surface, glinting in the sun...
Coinage collected for the poor that fountains accrue.
It's tradition to share the moment with a loved one.
Over my shoulder, I've thrown coins into waters of a fount,
but not naive enough to think my wishes would find fruition.
Perhaps we've all lost more coins than any of us can count,
but serves as the perfect whimsical setting for picture taking.
Not a means for making dreams come true, nor an ambition,
but tossing a coin in a fountain is a fantastical undertaking.
Young and old they throw
making wishes with each coin
waiting for magic
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