My heart is a secret garden Poetry Contest
Silent One
My heart is a secret garden.
Make-believe guards stand sentry at the gate—
vigilant, visceral, ready
to keep out trolls, lurkers, pretenders,
and every donkey-ass from my past life.
Cigarettes, booze, and cheap sex
can wander elsewhere.
This time, my garden filters only purity.
Where pride is planted.
In my last life,
I went through the mill—
a chronic druggie, an alcoholic, a whore—
a plot overrun with weeds
and dirty secrets that still claw at my dreams.
But in this new life,
the core of my being is a wonderland:
fresh, free, first-rate, full-fledged, fever-pitched,
sans the forked tongue.
Baby elephants, unicorns, and pegasi
march six by six
through rows of bougainvillea,
through blossoms and budding life.
An orphaned lion cub is saved,
loosed into the wind—
Born Free, finding a home,
a rhythm,
a new secret taking root.
securely sheltering it in her shell
nurturing while within
heeding to each gentle whisper
to each tap from tiny feet
in time She curls it in her embrace
caresses it in her hug
fondles it with boundless care
cuddles it with sweetish love-
when fully fledged, sailing the high sea
will it care for the cowry shell, its first home!
__________________________
It seems, conflicts and even full-fledged wars have become common in the world we live in today. Despite the life-threatening circumstances however we have no option but to live blunting our senses as if nothing has happened. Life too has no less conflicts and yet we have to live. This ghazal reflects this sentiment.
___________________
With this life’s unease I’d to live--
By stifling my wish I’d to live.
Alibis no more, I’d to live,
With banes bare of bliss, I’d to live.
On sail-less boat, unfulfilled dreams,
On a half-baked dish I’d to live.
Bearing burdens unbearable,
Hope on a long leash I’d to live.
Amidst all waging wars in world,
On my inner peace, I’d to live.
_______________________________
Ghazal | 03.05.2026 | bliss, fish, leash, peace, unease, wish
Beneath a tropical sun that glows bright,
Port Louis awakes to the shining light.
A vibrant pulse, a harmonious hum,
Where dreams arise and glowing futures come.
Modern buildings in brick and steel stand tall
Beside colonial shops near their wall,
Whispering history etched in each stone,
A heritage preserved, for ever known.
Port Louis holds a full-fledged banking heart,
With local and global deals split apart,
A commercial hub, with shops quite close by,
Packed with supplies one would dream in the sky.
It hosts an old administrative house
With government seat pitched at the sea`s mouth,
The busy harbour gleams, a sapphire deep,
Where southern breezes shielded, softly sweep.
From Caudan Waterfront, the view takes hold,
A glowing modern marvel, brave and bold.
A culture hub, the Caudan Arts Centre,
Upholds artists and singers` banner.
The streets filled with diverse shades of faces,
Reflect the mixed origins and races
Of the population, a melting pot
Of cultures, creed and colours in one spot
In city of old and new in one shot.
Days passed by to cross sixty and years ran —-
to cross seventy with full fledged activities as I was to scan -
Eventually had to cross Eighty, what to do !
No alternative, but compelled to live too.
Only dragging dull days , swimming in stagnant pool.
No excitement confronting scary shark but to remain cool.
Not to invite golden goose flapping wings in charismatic charm.
All achievements turned obsolete ! Last bell to ring ending life - term.
Every year I pinch-hit on Christmas
for a Christian so devout
That if he had to work on the holiday
he’d just sit and pout
This year was no different from the rest
except he made a slight change
This Christian also became a full-fledged Jew
~ So, I had to cover for him on Chanukah too
To be a fool is too difficult
You can't always think unwise
It comes to little sense when you think only stupid.
You can't simply reject when a Lass smiles
If a fool, you shun. If wise, you smile.
(May the vice versa – fool may smile at the lovely Lass.)
Then comes a thousand trouble
You were wise when you smiled back
You are now a fool while in love.
Your senses tell you; you are a fool to be in love.
Tells your heart you are fair at heart.
Decide you are a fool or wise?
It takes a lot to be a fool--- a full-fledged fool.
It makes sense to be a fool sometime
That sense makes you a wise person
As it needs much wit to be wise
For both live in dreams.
Fool dreams and dreams to dream
The wise dreams and works to materialize the dream
So that the fool can eat the fruits of his wisdom.
Have you decided to be a fool or wise?
Don't be too wise to be a fool.
Call me low birth, make what so fun,
No pink birth, but a proud man’s son,
Fate-bestowed be my birth,
But built I’m by self-worth,
Dare, who’s here ever what I’ve done?
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Translation | 19.10.2025 | birth, fate, pride, worth
Note: This verse is taken from a Sanskrit play, Veni Samhaar, by Narayana Bhatt of 9th Century CE. It centres around the story of Mahabharata. When Karna is questioned about his birth-- not as blue-blooded warrior, saying that he is just a son of a chariot-in-charge, not a full-fledged kshatriya warrior, he responds with this verse. Veni Samhaar means braiding of hair, a vow taken by Draupadi/Bheema to avenge an insult by Kaurava cousins. Here is transliteration of the text, and feel the force of the Sanskrit verse:
Sootah vaa soota-putrah vaa
yah vaa kah vaa bhavaami aham |
Daiva-aayattam kule janma
mad aayattam tu paurusham || Veni Samhaar ||
I used to sing, "My country tis of thee..."
Now, a 'Once upon a time' use to be
My allegiance was pledged
But to Trump never fledged
'Not my president,' with those, I agree
Where life was once so simple, no fires fanned
There were no worries for a future planned
Now it's gone to the dogs
Those power hungry hogs
Are in need of the nation's reprimand
Other countries have problems of their own
But I don't chew on them like a dog bone
So why excoriate
Berate and objurgate?
As Americans, WE have the right to groan
As She flew up into the sky
she got a birds view of the horizon
all around her was openness
her prey far below tried to flee.
It stood no chance against her
down she swooped like a bullet
her gaze locked on, talons ready
she hit knocking it out cold.
She landed to rip it apart,
then satisfied took the rest
to feed her chicks small pieces,
a couple more weeks till they fledged.
Then she would once more be free
to roam the skies and the land
for she was queen of all in sight
claiming all she saw as her realm.
The shadow in the night beckons.
I slowly rise from my warm and cosy bed
Only to follow the urge that drives me mad
Into spectral half-fledged woodland,
That spreads beyond my lonely tower.
Without volition, I approach slowly
A great, gaunt gate that towered
Over a ghostly path among the ashen trees.
A pale moon lights the blanched greensward,
That covered thinly the winding trail,
And from afar, I hear a river,
I hear its humming, throbbing, low, ferocious call,
Meant to disturb the serenity of my soul.
But I force myself into my somnambulism,
And perhaps, lull myself to dream of angels.
A shiny morning bathed in golden-gluey rays.
Somedays are different from everyday.
The royal couture's army, Of sun's dear palace.
Served down the feast of honour.
As I opened the mouth to greet.
The berries of my mommy's continental & savoury kitchen.
Satisfying the appetite of my elated much hungry soul.
Alongwith serenity, To my disturbed mood.
I took the boat, Destined for the shore of endless breathing.
& found myself lost, Into the lake of solitude.
The melody of contentment.
Drenched into my ear, when the swans passed by.
A merry moment to cherish & laugh.
Even the hours of daylight, Felt like a blink of seconds to my ardent eyes & carefree heart.
Roaming like a reckless, dancing paper doll.
A royal chic, Fully fledged with tantrums, that night. Cause,
I was wild.
I was free.
I was home
- Mauli Verma
A fledgling struggled in the wet grass
he had failed in his first attempt
...The cat wouldn’t
Preferring darkness, to forage and hunt, night they choose
Relatively world’s smallest owl, yelping is their unique call
Eyes highlighted, gray bill, brown birds that feign death to bluff
They are listed enangered, they migrate, mob their predators too
To rear, parents work hard, hunt-feed-defend to put up best show
Young fledged at ten weeks, nearly eliminated by humans they cry fowl
Et certa to summer
How i wait for its end
within its lonely languid silhouette's
Its all about Autumn
with its temporal musk
and last fledged bloom
within an epiphany
a bonfire to attest,
ashes to dust
we celebrate in such offerings
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