Yellow Rose

(a view from my ‘home made’ roof garden)

“The most beautiful view is the one I share with you.”
– Author Unknown

 

chorus of crows

The only birds left were crows

Shouting their haunted cries

Beyond the withered banks, and creeks

Into the darkened skies

With their home shattered and minds blank

Their hearts possessed with blackened words

Forlorn the day, predictable in its own

The immense respect for life’s only birds
Poem: courtesy to Emilie Madden)
(picture from an unnamed island near Fortkochi.There are cranes too in the crowd of crow)

The crane love

We have always shared so much,
Every happiness and every sorrow.
Yet we keep the faith and look forward,
To a much better tomorrow.

We’ve never walked away from each other,
As we know many others would.
We have stood behind one another,
As loving, loyal, mates should.
(courtesy-James Greene)

The cobweb

I draw you out of my heart in wisps,
I pull you from my being and my mind.
Inch by inch the tendrils, weakened
let bits of little memories fade to dust.
Affection doesn’t linger,
There is nothing left for it to cling to.
(from unknown poet)

Song of a dying river

What can I give you other than my tears
And a failing heart,with shattered dreams……
For the lust of men,snatching the sandy bed
No more strength to carry on,hold me strong…..
(Picture from kerala)

The cool crane heels

(a photograph from fortkochi beach)

Will no one tell me what she sings?—
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?

Whate’er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o’er the sickle bending;—
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

The ship

(photograph from willingdon island,kochi)

I am standing on the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength and I stand and watch her
until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud
just where the sea and sky come down to mingle
with each other.(Poem. The Ship, by Charles Henry Brent)