WORD STREAM (21) Good,Best and Best

(21) Good better and best

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I see your rosy cheeks,

And your lips so mild,

I fear to touch you,

-my dear infant child.

You are my love, my life,

My mirror, and my vision,

Flying in dream horizon,

-my most colorful pigeon.

I shield you from evils,

Armor you with my arm,

I can fight the whole world,

Let misery come, in any form.

But sorry to say, babe,

With myself, I cannot fight,

I have darkened this world,

Instead of giving it light.

Future has wrapped your gift,

That is pollution, atom, and terror,

Beauty is beautifully killed,

And we all pretend-not our error.

My babe,I am the 'man',
The man,who was one time,a child,
Rainbow was then color of world,
How I turned to be so wild/?

We all, who blame each other,

Were one time, babes, in our nest,

-Had seen a vision of this world,

To be- good;better; and best
 

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****original poetry
                                  =keshavdubey=24-1-2016

WORD STREAM(29) Terrorism

I am standing here,

In this crowded street,

Lot of rush and noise persist,

I am firm on my feet.

Everything seems to be safe,

Except the human life,

An incident may darken the scene,

Only spare the ‘news’-to survive.

Terror has become the part of life,

By no means-anybody can ban,

Men can come over all evils,

But man cannot escape-man.

I see terror by face,

It looks as common as me,

Then what poison melts inside,

How anybody can kill me?

An unknown device may explode,

Shower of bullets may burst,

Always expect the unexpected,

Terrorism targets, from last to first.

Terror is mixed in air,

Terror is in the heart,

Innocents are the target,

Killing is the fine art.

Let me forget all this,

Nightmare is still in queue,

I am quite well here,

And I hope the same to you.

Let me hope to see a new dawn,
When innocent facing  barrel of gun
Will bent it,turn it, with full force,
To target the terror,to make it run.
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,

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(28)Most Obedient

Man is most obedient,

When he locks his mind,

He stores the orders,

To faithfully, rewind.

It is easy to shut,

The mouth, eye, and ear,

To surrender the ‘self’,

And live without fear.

                                                               Like few pet animals,

Who dance on master’s tune,

Get bread and butter reward,

In the long chain, of- fortune.

Meaning of self-esteem,

They do not know,

Who yield to super power,

Through corridor of life-they go.

Super powers innovate,

The regimentation of thoughts,

Mental slaves never say,

The ‘how’, ‘why’ and ‘what’!

This silent slavery ,

May one day bounce,

Clones may replace man,

To act as clowns.

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(27)My dear enemy

WORD STREAM   (27) My Dear Enemy
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I know you, I recognize you,

You are one, in the long row,

I smile and welcome you,

You are my enemy, you are the foe.

Hatred is in the core of heart,

Chilled in the inner cage,

But modern trend teaches me,

-Paste the smile, on the face.

Weapons change with the age,

Now bloodshed is not seen,

When opponent opposes you,

Pretend all red signal; green.

All seem friendly, all well wishers,

Like next to kin, in the town,

All give firm support to leg,

And wonder! I fall down.

A friend may neglect me,

But enemy will never depart,

I may live in friend’s mind,

But I reside in enemy’s heart.

Now life is to act, not to live,

Society is one stage, as a whole,

At the cost of profitable deal,

Enemy and friend, change the role.

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                                                                          (C) keshavdubey.blogspot.com
                                               

(26) Money Plant

Money Plant
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It was the precious root,

Of a real MONEY-PLANT,

I planted it in my yard,

Safest place, of my haunt.

I took utmost care,

To safeguard the same,

It soon began to grow,

And then the result came.

Tiny plant became a tree,

Actual money poured out,

Coins, notes, currency, bills,

Money in all forms-stout.

Oh! But what this happened?

The tree was inclined, above all,

I was to water the root,

Branches crossed the boundary-wall.

My neighbor collected the fruits,

Money- plant was really funny,

Plant was no doubt, mine,

But others enjoyed the money.

Money is money, a solid fact,

It is not a work of art,

I set aside all great thoughts,

And cut the plant, with heavy heart.

I offered the root in charming pack,

To my neighbor- smiling wide,

To grow the same, with hard labor,

So that; fruits may come to my side.

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                                                                    keshavdubey: 16-7-2007
                                            (::googleplus/+keshavdubey8)

(25)The story of story

Stories had the same start-

“Once upon a time”

And that concluded the same,

A hero-worship rhyme.

The stories had legends,

Queens and kings,

They were honest, corrupt, fighters,

Devils, spirits, and angles on wings.

Meaning of story has changed,

Story was pure imagination,

Now, in the hands of journalist,

Is a weapon to create sensation.

Now story is a colorful picture,

Told with sensational rolls,

Be cautious-if it is ‘real’,

Reality and story are opposite poles.

Media plays with the words,

They hypnotize the mass,

Through the hole of a needle,

They can make the elephant pass.

Abstract is filled in material body,

You find the ready-made heroes,

A moment’s flash-and nobody knows,

How they come, and where they go.

It gets high ranking,

If story has scandal and glory,

Murder, rape, gossip make,

The modern- ‘story of story’.

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WORD STREAM (24) The Wonderful Bombay

WORD STREAM (24)  The Wonderful Bombay
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Dreams of rising buds,
Youth, with vigor and gay,
Struggle for vent-despair and distress,
All melted together; coin Bombay.

 A city crowded with mob,
Of all color, creed, and age,
 Perceive- peak of liberal idols,

And crest of human bondage.

City rushes with jet speed,

Never sleeps in night,

People rise in blind dark,

And fall in day-light.

No terror kills the spirit,
No blast stops Metro,
This giant roller crushes flat,
Any poison trying to grow.

People are unknown to each-other,
Loneliness exists in crowded city,
Faces seem faceless here,
But Bombay has top identity

Sun rises in the sand
 Heroes welcome,greet,
Sun sinks behind towers,
Zeros, clash in street..

It stretches arms to welcome all,
There is firm soil, under the feet,
Open sky is above the head,
Rest; Bombay is ready to greet.

Any person who comes here,
To struggle for roof, and shelter,
Gets the matching color soon,
And becomes, branded-‘Mumbaikar’

It is one axis of world trade,
One time, it was national passion,
This soil  exported Mohandas ,
And imported our Father of Nation.. 

No unique city is found,
Away; from this city apart,
Certainly, the city- dwellers,
Have imprint of Bombay, in heart
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                                        (C) keshavdubey
                                               14-7-2016