This Precious Gift

 

               

                             

                                      

          This precious gift with which I play

             A trivial toy, a meaningless sport;

             Indeed, throwing away the costly pearls

             Into cinders of nothing; none to account.

             This precious breath we waste in empty sounds.

             To pollute and slander others.

             This gift which can reveal the spirit

             Beneath our senses, meaningful depths;

             This precious strength and spark we consume.

              In degrading ways, self-imprisoned idle pleasures

              Leaving behind, alas, an inner penury.

               As age engulfs with fangs of disease

               We curse in vain our crooked past

               Spent in worthless acts at expensive cost.

               This boon, this only chance with reason fraught

               We spend like airy nothing in worthless ways;

               The secrets of existence unexplored

               Without a solid foundation we hope

               To build our uncertain future;

               Without understanding Nature

               Without thrill of noble thoughts and devotion

               We drive our days downhill to doom;

               No lotus within our bosom blooms

               No coiled secrets do we unwind;

               In wretched chains we ourselves bind;

               Oh God! How can we account for thy gifts!

               A rudderless journey adrift;

               Time’s nearing threat we hear

               Till now our vision and goal unclear;

               What ransom avails to clear our debt?

               Once lost is lost forever. What our fate?

               We blame to justify our erring ways;

               Do we deserve in truth almighty grace?

               This precious gift we ought to care and know

               Of what we are, a spark of divine glow;

               With mercy, love and piety dwell

               Thy life, a kernelled fruit but not a shell

               Work first, you need not ask;

               God knows His mighty task.

                            *******************

        31st December, 2023                         Somaseshu Gutala

 

       

              

              

              

             

In the Prayer Room

        

                                                         

                                     

                                  

1. Like a parrot that imitatively recites

    Without inner throbbing of calm delight

    I chant thy sacred name with rhythmic voice;

    No surging feeling except loud noise;

    I wave around oil lamps before thy image

    No figure divine reflects in this fleshy cage

    My worship turned a mere daily routine

    I know not what true prayer means.

 

2       Like a humming gnat hidden from light

  A weird monotony far from Thy sight

  A cracked bell, not responsive to Thy call;

 How can I cut through this ignorant iron wall?

 My soul deaf to Thy melodious charm

 My soul blind to Thy dazzling form;

 How to move on this rugged path so long?

 How to cross this self-made barrier so strong?

 

3.    No signs of devotion I did feel

No gushing streams of swelling zeal;

No thrill of entering spiritual spheres

Forgetting worldly worries and fears;

No vibrant feeling flowing through my veins;

No placid contemplation serene;

Have my feelings dried up with growing age?

What is the use of reading many a page?

 

4.    What visions and dreams those wise men had!

How they felt elated and extremely glad!

Forgetting this world how happily they sang

With spontaneous bliss as temple bells rang;

What immortal lyrics they wrote thrillingly divine!

Drunk deep with devotion’s ambrosial wine.

Transcending poverty and worldly woes

How they prayed earnest with no splendid show!

 

5.    Never to such sublime level do I aspire

A tiny touch of grace, oh Lord! I desire;

A few moments of devotion I need

To soothe my soul, Oh Lord! my prayer heed;

What use mere rituals and reciting hymns?

What use mere reading bulky volumes grim?

Lift my soul unruffled in meditation calm;

Fill my soul with Thy peace-giving gracious form.

                 ************************

    18th December, 2023                      Somaseshu Gutala

 

 

 

 

 

The Kitchen-- Queen

         

                     

                   

            

1.    A useful invention thou art

A concrete help to culinary art

To lighten dreary household work;

No need for us our duty shirk;

A gift of science to every man;

Our work made quick, so spick and span.

 

2.    Without thee, much delay in routine

Now plenty of leisure and kitchen clean;

No suffocating smoke and dirt

No pungent vapors from vessels hurt;

All in one container thou art

A steaming treat, our fresh breakfast.

 

3.    Thy whistling hiss I cannot miss

A welcome sound fills me with bliss;

Everything is ready in time so short

All items fresh-cooked, piping hot;

No loss of vitamins, no half-cooked stuff

Open the lid, delicious smells you puff.

 

4.    Swishing, steaming and hissing loud

Thou art our precious possession proud;

Man-friendly gadget, Thou best friend

To all, with thee a happy time we spend;

A boon for ladies and gents indeed

Cooking no more a boring deed;

 

5.    Thy shiny, steel look adds grace to shelf

Thou art indeed a scientific elf

Thou, source of saving energy a lot.

Time-saver and server of dishes hot

Let people praise and take a lesson from thee!

Service, the core of all beliefs in brief.

            **********************

9th December, 2023                    Somaseshu Gutala