Wednesday, December 28, 2016

ANATOMY




























  






















                  1)                I anatomized her beauty in vain
                                     On the table of my heart with stress and strain
                                     To spot the quintessence and found a void  at last
                                     No real substance, mere outer charm, I thought.
                                     Her musings hovered on trivial details
                                     In spreading gossip she never fails.

                 2)                Beneath that fair and lovely skin         
                                     Concealed the stench of mocking sin
                                     Her lips may shine like rubies red
                                     Fresh painted on mere fashions bred ;
                                     No gems of equal shine I find
                                     Her words revealed her vacant mind.

                 3)                 Her smiles displayed mere show of thrill
                                      No earnest joy but outward frills
                                      Her painted eyes dazzled too bright
                                      No human touch of grace I sight.
                                      Like hanging tinsel globes they dance
                                      With seeming joy, no hearty glance.

                 4)               Her dress bespoke her status high
                                     No casual style, her tastes defy ;
                                     Her outward trappings can't contain
                                     Her sense of contemptuous disdain .
                                     Her mouth pouted with a sarcastic sigh
                                     Can they conceal her conscience dry ? 

                5)                 She deemed herself of noble race
                                     No sympathetic feelings I trace ;
                                     In wasting wealth she found her status-sign ;
                                     While common people struggle and pine ;
                                     She passed her time in idle pleasures
                                     Proud of her wanton charms and treasures
                   
                 6)                I saw her jaunty aggressive stride
                                     No gentle gait of a bashful bride ;
                                     A sequinned silver screen she seemed
                                     No tender starry light she beamed ;
                                     Mere outward charm, no proper guide
                                     I let her go -- I slowly moved aside.

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


 Note :  Many poets of 17th and 18th centuries wrote satirical poems criticizing the ladies of high class who gave utmost priority to outward sophisticated fashions and spent most of their time in gossip and idle pleasures. "The Comedies of Manners" is a type of play which exposed the shallowness and loose morality of the society. Alexander Pope in his mock epic"The Rape Of the Lock"  (1714)  portrayed the artificial and flippant life of Belinda whose beauty was protected by her guardian elves and angels. I made  a similar attempt in gentle humorous manner to portray the life of such sophisticated lives of fashionable women in the modern society.

                                 

                            Tinsel globes = Globes made of thin shiny paper
                            Jaunty          =  Lively and confident  
                             Sequinned   =decorated with shiny metal pieces  
                            Quintessence =Pure essence 







                                  ==============================

                    29th December, 2016                            Somaseshu Gutala                      
                                                                               




                
                                            
                                            

Friday, December 9, 2016

ON GOING TO SCHOOL





   











                           














                                                                                             





















                        1)        A swarm of butterflies in spring
                            In multi-colored dresses cute and clean
                            With flower-fresh beaming faces seen
                            Like a flock of singing birds on wing
                            Though burdened with a heavy load of books
                            A glorious sunny glow shone through their looks.

                2)        With pretty fingers waving warm good byes
                            To their dads and moms, they ran like fawns
                            To board their coaches in breezy morn
                            As their teachers beckon them with welcoming smiles.
                            They seem to enjoy their fresh morning bus- ride 
                            The future citizen's of tomorrow, our nation's pride !

               3)         Their merry prattle rang through my heart
                            Their buoyant spirit thrilled my aging mind
                            Such  happiness nowhere can we find
                            Such leaping childhood zeal nowhere can we spot
                            Free from self-shrinking worries and  selfish cares
                            Such spontaneous mirth can we dream to share !

              4)          My mind flew back to my earlier years
                            A lad in simple dress with reluctant feet
                            To go to school and his teacher meet
                            A whining boy with dithering fears
                            No luxurious coach for him to board
                            He had to walk with friends on muddy road.

              5)          A routine recital of rhymes sing-song
                            A noisy den with no encouraging look
                            We squatted on floor in a dismal nook
                            Slogging and repeating till  the last bell rang
                            Sometimes to skip school we feigned to be sick
                            Our elders soon saw through our childish tricks.

              6)          With a sigh of relief while going home
                            I watched on the lawn a flock of sheep
                            Grazing and bleating with a merry leap ;
                            How freely and happily they roam
                            Ignorant of losing soon their breath
                            To be a dish for men after their death.

              7)          The twittering birds seemed to mock at my state
                            How freely floating with their inborn skill
                            None taught these creatures how to hunt and kill 
                            Why me alone to slog and drudge? Human fate ?
                            The swimming fish, street dogs and floating ducks
                            Appeared to question my state of luck.

              8)          Good manners with respect our teachers taught
                           "Do your duty with care" their lifetime creed 
                            Good stories with morals they made us read
                            A sense of discipline they always sought
                            They corrected our mistakes with meticulous care
                            Slothful negligence never did they spare.

              9)         And yet in school simple pleasures we felt
                           Not burdened with a load of back-breaking store
                           With fewer books we tried to acquire knowledge more
                           Though not equipped with tools of internet ;
                           We played our simple games with a sense of thrill
                           Though not well-trained in games and sporting skill.

            10)         We wondered at our teachers' knowledge and skill
                           We listened to their stories and morals caught
                           Their fluent flow of language impressed our hearts ;
                           They made us love learning with a sense of thrill
                           Their caring nature in their every act did gleam
                           They were treated by all with respect supreme.
                 
            11)         Those past days in a trice flashed back as I stood
                           Watching these kids lightly tripping about
                           Running and laughing with a lusty shout
                           Childhood breathes in all a jubilant and jolly mood
                           Fresh angelic faces with sunny future ahead
                           A wave of joy in my bosom they spread.

            12)         Move on, you gallant future hopes of the world
                          Armed with new skills and creative thoughts ;
                          This world in narrow grooves perplexed and caught
                          Mired in struggle for power with hatred and discord ;
                          Lead us to a new realm of wisdom and cheer
                          Where men live in harmony with a conscience clear.
                          



                         
                            
                            



    
                         


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

   10th  December , 2016                                            Somaseshu Gutala                          
                             
                                         





                            




            


    
                                       
                                       
                             
                                            

Tuesday, December 6, 2016

UNDER THE ANGELIC SHADE OF SLEEP ( A lyrical song )

 






                                             

                 
                                  Under the angelic shade of sleep
                           I lie no more to weep ;
                           The pricks of life there can not creep
                           With joy alone if I have to weep ;
                           There in that world too dark and deep
                           Far away for human eye to peep.          

                           I see mild, bleating shining sheep
                           Browsing beside the golden heap ;
                           I see light-footed fairies sweep
                           Through fragrant air and leap
                           With joy over the flowery heap
                           And laugh at me from heights too steep
                           To touch my earthly eyes asleep
                           Under the shades of slumber deep.

                                      




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

                                                                                      7th December, 2016                        Somaseshu Gutala

                     

Friday, December 2, 2016

WAITING FOR THE UNKNOWN





 



                   





   



















                                    I am fearful of future 

                            Hopeful of coming hours

                            Yes, it is human nature ;

                            Even the traitor sent to the Tower

                            Will dream of Elysian Bowers ;

                            We are like waiting pilgrims

                            For the late arriving train 

                            Uncertain of our destination ;

                            And once it comes, as usual it seems

                            And yet the coming of it sustains

                            Our craze, child-like, with flitting gaze.

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


   1)  Tower = A royal fortress used as a state prison for heretics.

  2)   Elysian Bowers = A place of perfect bliss where noble souls go.

  3rd December, 2015                                         Somaseshu Gutala
                            
                             
                            

Sunday, November 27, 2016

UNDER THE SHELL ( Between Two Worlds)





           



















                           



       1 )              Under the shell, our secret self we hide
                      On false hypocrisy do we ride
                      Between our acts and thoughts, a hiatus wide
                      To civic rules and laws  we seem to abide ;

      2)            Beneath we gloat with no responsible sense
                     Darkness unshells our vicious desires dense
                     Like worms our wants do crawl and creep
                     Our ideals lulled and buried deep

      3)           Ourselves we split under the societal grip
                     Between society and self we toss and trip
                     No shell, the real intelligence needs
                     Let light come in to scorch these undesirable weeds.


                           "Don't get too close, it's dark inside
                            It's where demons hide."



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

                            

    28th November, 2016                          Somaseshu Gutala

                   

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

WHEN ???


   











                       




           When beloved friends are drifted away by fateful chance
         When wants are extinguished by cruel circumstance
         When love turns to mockery and lacerates like a lance
         When ideals fly beyond our reach with a deriding glance
         We feel forlorn, a single leaf, at the tip of a withered branch
         Trembling at every gust of wind, and turns too blanch
         The worldly wise who once bewitched the cheering mass
         Like fallen mansions dwindle when their days are gone, alas !

         Blessed are they who have the gift of gaining succor
         Of God, by constant touch of Him, with prayer
         They shine without becoming dead with mental strain
         They find their bliss, stable, unmoved by loss or gain ;
         Yet this requires a humble mind which harps on Lord
         Above these maddening joys and woes, unchained and unbarred.

                 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

24th November, 2016                                Somaseshu Gutala


         
     
    
        

Tuesday, November 15, 2016

MUSINGS



 











                                                                 
















                  1)     My eyes too weak to see Thy holy feet
                       My ears too deaf to hear Thy voice sweet
                       My smell too dull to sense Thy presence fine
                       My tongue too numb to chant Thy name divine.

             2)      My touch too inert to touch Thy sacred heart
                       My mind too ruffled with distractions fraught
                       My span of thought too short to soar and fly
                       To reach Thy heavenly realms too high.

            3)       Thou, boundless ocean of Love and Mercy !
                       Thy name enough to cross this turbulent sea
                       Of earthly troubles of egoistic illusion
                       And grant Thy beatific thrilling vision !

            4)       Ev'n beasts and birds have found Thy grace
                       Why can't my mind with intelligence trace
                       Thy cool benign presence within my heart
                       Like lovely sunbeams by red lotus caught.

            5)       With a language bestowed with meaningful sounds
                       Yet still I can't know Thee-- beyond my bounds !
                       I can't decode Thy mysterious thought and sense
                       With my intellect clouded with delusions dense.

            6)        Flitting like a bee from flower to flower
                       I ran after worldly wealth, joys and power
                       Not a moment I found to sit calm and quiet
                       To gaze upon Thy feet and feel really blest.

            7)       Trapped like a rat in momentary pleasures
                       I found scarce time for silent, serene leisure
                       To pray to Thee with tearful gratitude
                       Set me free from these temptations crude.

            8)       These vile passions, like vixen wait for chance to find
                      To pounce upon my fickle and tottering mind
                       My worldly knowledge no match to fight and decide
                       The righteous path and resist their raging pride.

            9)       My limping mind too weak to give a firm, strong hold
                      Thinking too long my woes become too manifold --
                      My wisdom is but a frail leaking ship ;
                      How can I come out of their crushing python-grip ?

           10)      Only Thy name to liberate me from this maze 
                      No masterly guidance to brighten my dismal gaze
                      No yogic mysterious skills for me to dream
                      No more dallying with my musings, my Lord supreme !

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

      16th November, 2016                                    Somaseshu Gutala




   
                     

Saturday, November 5, 2016

WHAT USE ?

               




















                Mother of all worlds ! What use to force Thy thoughts ?
             A foolish thought indeed ! All-knowing One ! Time's meed       
             You give-- not more or less -- we ignorantly plead
             Forgetful of this truth ; our fate is already wrought
             None can ingeniously escape from his lot ;
             You smile, I know, Thou, blessed fount of glee !
             You know our ultimate ends and we like feeble reeds
             Move to and fro in winds of anxiety caught.     

             Ignorant of our goals of where we end
             We strive to strike new ways to alter and mend
             Our ways, though we do know -- beyond our hands
             How selfish people seem ! In spite of burning sands
             We dream of rich harvests to suit our greedy taste
             Craving beyond what we deserve, our peculiar state.

                        #######################


  5th November, 2016                                       Somaseshu Gutala
              


              
                     


                   

Tuesday, November 1, 2016

THE FESTIVAL OF LIGHTS


                                   






                                                                    (  I  )

                            It is no more a festival of lights I found
                       It is a pandemonium of deafening sounds                           
                       It is no more a joyous occasion to wait
                       It is an unavoidable, expensive plight ;
                       No more do we aspire for shooting stars
                       Our purse is burnt too much with scars ;
                       No time to invite and honor our in-laws
                       Behind our mirth there lurks a pinching loss ;
                       The rich may rave and sound their joys to the skies
                       The poor man's hut in darkness lies ;








                     



                                                ( I I )

                       When every heart is lit with mercy and wisdom
                       When earth becomes a heavenly kingdom
                       When every hut and hamlet smiles with delight  
                       When every man respects others' true rights 
                       When every house is free from habits  vile
                       When every heart is free from hatred and guile  
                       Then the real festive glow in true spirit I find
                       In every eye and heart and mind ;
                       Till then this is but a poor pantomime
                       A flashy show of lights without reason or rhyme.

                                    *****************************
      
  1st November, 2016                                      Somaseshu Gutala