Whatso Poems | Examples

Christmas gifts - 2

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.

If ignorance is instantaneous

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

Whatso fate has fated is fair

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.                    
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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 ||

To thee, departed fish

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

Let a Man be Childlike Naive

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

O hearken to hints from your heart

To please Lady Muse, all my heart to bare, 
I tried invoking her with chiselled verse, 
That, the pure pleasure of my pen’s all hers, 
Yet, left I was at blank paper to stare. 
I sought some odd words archaic and rare,  
And tried to paint the bleakest face of woes, 
Which, often a desperate poet toes, 
Fervent did I appeal that she be fair. 
The words when came, came halting as if shy 
And listless, I failed her bulwark to breach,
Nothing whatso worked and I knew not why, 
I failed, the fount of words resource to reach, 
I still coaxed my pen a new line to mint, 
A voice whispered: hearken to your heart's hint. 
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Sonnet | 03.11.2008 | poem 
Poet’s note: There are times when no matter what you do, words desert your pen as this sonnet says.  Notice, the Volta is hinted at the beginning of the sestet, but its high tide occurs only at the poem-ending couplet.

Cheer more than chase the ball

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

Go gentle into eve of life

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.

Ye, Destiny, throw no random dice

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|

St Kabeer Couplets 12: He That Wants Nothing

Wants, wishes bare, worries nowhere,
And mind care-free as never ere,
Whoever wants not a penny,
Emperor he's among many.
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chah miti chinta miti, manava beparavah,
jisa ko kuch nahin chahiye, vah shahanashah.  

He is the richest man in this world that wants nothing whatso. He that has nothing and wants nothing need worry the least, he is a man of carefree mind, he is an uncrowned emperor.

That Be the New Year

When we meet— whatso be the day, 
That’s our New Year.
When heart aligns with heart, 
That’s our New Year.
Any a day it might arrive—
Any of the three sixty five,
Whenever our minds meet,
That’s the New Year.
When on face rainbow shades are seen,
Bright lamps are lit within,
To celebrate when we feel keen,
That’s our New Year.
And if Sun feels lazy
Under clouds a bit fuzzy,
And you pen a poem to perk it,
That’s our New Year.
When in a rackless abandon 
Sea’s stormy sans inhibition,
The sailors save each to each,
The safe home shore to reach, 
That day’s their New Year.
Whatso date our God-given heart
Reaches out, stays no more apart,
O ponder upon this,
Is not it a New Year of bliss?
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Reflections |09.01.2023| New Year

Bring a Boat, Let Me Sail To Me

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|

Keep Your Fool Alive

A grim face, oft called wise by the wise,
Here’s truth meant a long face to chastise. 
Keep your fool all alive,
Time teaches us: be naïve,
It warns, therein all true wisdom lies.
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Limerick |06.12.2021| life, truth, fool 

Poet’s note: When nothing whatso you learnt at school might help, break the rule, be cool and recall the fool in you.

Dark Shadow

Cleaving to all its bustle and ado,
What trails behind is one’s own dark shadow.

O man, choke not with truth buried below,
Its fingers point to your vainest ego.

He’s no man that mutely accepts his fate
Resigns to whatso fate, whatso morrow,

A sheep in flock he’s no better to know, 
In cool ash of ignorance to wallow,

A man is he defeated but by him—
O fight thy pretender, beat him hollow. 
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Ghazal |04.11.2021|

Get Buried Aplenty Not, Die Empty

The delivery man when comes,
And brings in a hot well-foiled stuff,
We thank him, thank more than enough,
But, a thought if at all it comes
We scrub it off as if dandruff:
To her who daily serves you hot,
Expecting not so in return,
Do we ever thank her enough?
More oft than not, the answer’s ‘not,
And not whatso in mind might churn.

It’s like with unspent wealth to die,
Love, smile, wish, friendship might as lie
Un-spelt, or thoughts never acted upon,
A poem not penned, a painting not drawn,
A Beethoven’s symphony half-done,
Einstein’s experiments undone,
Let’s not die buried aplenty,
Let’s die spent-up and all empty.
Seeds are not to be stored un-sown,
But spread widely, everywhere thrown.

Let water flow, get widely used, 
Stagnant, will it smell if unused.


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Musings |03.09.2021| Free verse

Poet’s note: Let’s not die with a rich crop of good creative ideas never acted upon, without a wish or love expressed, a friend thanked enough, wealth weaselled for a future and never enjoyed...The land where you might be buried is not going to be enriched with all this stuff. Get buried aplenty not, die empty.

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