Sunday, April 23, 2017

MIDSUMMER MUSINGS (ODE TO A BROOK)



                     

                                                                                                               



                   


                                                        (  I  )

                              Midsummer hath dried up thy heart
                              Not a puddle to see; a vast desert
                             Thy track became:  imagine what I found
                              In thee, once so deep and profound –
                              Dry rotten weeds, rusty bars and thorny shrubs
                              Tangled hair and cracked edges, marks of wear and tear
                              Worthless junk thrown away by some person
                              Tattered clothes, rags and dry bones of a butchered hog
                              And skeletal remains of a drowned poor pariah dog
                              And rocks of different shapes and sizes lying bare
                              Greeted my inquisitive view; the shock of reality
                              Sapped my disappointed heart with summer blaze.

                                                                 (  I I  )

                             No mystic message have you conveyed but showed
                             Thy barren track; no colorful swimming fish beneath
                             Thy glassy bosom of water but dry sandy dunes ;
                              I dreamt of seeing mysteries beyond my earthly vision
                             The holy relics of the past or sacred figurines of crystal
                              Left buried in thy sandy bed or Nature’s curious works
                              So secretly wrought of multi-colored stones and shells
                              With whorls so delicately marked or antique coins
                              With worn out figures or shards of bygone times
                              Left as relics of undiscovered times when rulers spent
                              Their means on glorious temples and mansions great;
                              Nor did I find the magic herbs and foot-prints of nymphs
                              So charmingly portrayed by poets in romantic lore;
                              Midsummer hath opened the doors of stark reality
                              And showed me what I never guessed to find.


                                                               ( I I I )

                              I lock the hope within, oh sylvan brook!
                             To see the flowing silver stream of life
                              Fill thy bare lap again with charms full;
                              And make thy banks again awaken with sweet life
                              When August rains of south-west herald with speed
                              The glorious sight of swelling waterfalls
                              And fills my heart with a strange throbbing rapture
                             To see the ring of wonder surround the common life;
                              Oh flowing stream of life! Wonder of wonders!
                              Flow on unchecked in thy own free way!
                              Flow on through hills and vales as freely as a lay
                              Lending a mystic touch to our earthly life, I pray.

                       *************************************************************************
                     
                             
                   
                      23rd April, 2017                                            Somaseshu Gutala  


                                                  
         

                 
                                                

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