Blessings in disguise
No one may say" don't do this"
No one may say" don't do please
This comes from excusive domain
Parents, friends and relatives form this chain
It is show of closeness
Near affinity and shown on face
Only known people may try to guide
You too may seek their advice and confide
You like it so much as it has no selfish interest
People come forward to show the way with trust
It is always nice to feel with their presence
There is honest backing with least worry hence
Up to certain age it comes with little compulsion
That stage is crucial for you and full of confusion
Some one is needed to provide you exactness
The room for modification and correctness
Life doesn't end with their advice alone
So many mistakes might have been committed and gone
Yet that is advantageous stage to seek always
From them and feel worry free for the stress
Chase the goal but backward too
Many may watch you from close quarter and want to go through
With all its glory and excel
They may only come to you and delightedly tell
You may be lucky if this help is available
Many may be down with lots of troubles
Timely help is not afforded to them in time
So it is blessings in disguise sometimes
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Related quotes
Over sixty
I came across an article "how to remain happy"
Mostly in later age after attaining sixty
It was in form of advice as what should be done
"Go out for help or attend funerals for those gone"
From hectic life suddenly vacuums is created
New label of "re-tried" is kept ready or invented
One safe corner is assigned and reserved
Peace and calm is assured as has been deserved
"Papa, change your schedule and adjust with other timings"
Son came near and whispered in ear with worry linings
We are unable to adjust with you for office hours
It takes lots of time to adjust the papers on the floors
I thought of it at once for the convenience sake
I must change it altogether and apply the brake
Take bath and break fast after they all finished
As I had nothing on hand to get it rushed
Papa, can you shift to living room?
As children have no special study room
I thought it worthy and practical suggestion
It hardly needed any advice or mention
Papa, I get no loan for new house or car
As it is not transferred on my name so far
I sensed some problem and awaited clear proposal
It came but with all documents ready for approval
"Don't sign it uncle, you will land in mess"? Relatives cautioned
Many instances of harassment were produced and mentioned
"No, no it may not happen with me" I was very much sure
But later developments proved me wrong and complete failure
I had to find new Basera* for simple living
For all these years I had faith in believing
I shall try to stop such hurtful events
If not possible then take all precaution and bless them
*Basera.. home
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Above sixty
I came across an article "how to remain happy"
Mostly in later age after attaining sixty
It was in form of advice as what should be done
"Go out for help or attend funerals for those gone"
From hectic life suddenly vacuums is created
New label of "re-tried" is kept ready or invented
One safe corner is assigned and reserved
Peace and calm is assured as has been deserved
"Papa, change your schedule and adjust with other timings"
Son came near and whispered in ear with worry linings
We are unable to adjust with you for office hours
It takes lots of time to adjust the papers on the floors
I thought of it at once for the convenience sake
I must change it altogether and apply the brake
Take bath and break fast after they all finished
As I had nothing on hand to get it rushed
Papa, can you shift to living room?
As children have no special study room
I thought it worthy and practical suggestion
It hardly needed any advice or mention
Papa, I get no loan for new house or car
As it is not transferred on my name so far
I sensed some problem and awaited clear proposal
It came but with all documents ready for approval
"Don't sign it uncle, you will land in mess"? Relatives cautioned
Many instances of harassment were produced and mentioned
"No, no it may not happen with me" I was very much sure
But later developments proved me wrong and complete failure
I had to find new Basera* for simple living
For all these years I had faith in believing
I shall try to stop such hurtful events
If not possible then take all precaution and bless them
*Basera.. home
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Ungrateful world
I may be called unfaithful
If I say "world is ungrateful"
"People are unresponsive"
"Despite my being obedient and submissive"
"Tit for tat" some one advised
Withdraw even if promised
You can't survive in this selfish world
Never show warmth and be cool or cold
So many sets of arguments were presented
I had given enough of thoughts but really not consented
They were to be called irresponsible
Yet very much practical to save you from the troubles
I am not seer or saint here to profess
But certainly happiness comes when you confess
Go to wall and earnestly ask for forgiveness on any mistake
It may be heard and responded to provide you strong intake
"Sir, can we be of any help to you" how do we feel?
When someone remembers you and comes for help at will
I am overwhelmed at their gesture and feel elated
As I am of the conviction that good work always remain related
People don't forget your noble past
Even though situation may turn very fast
You may be put in difficult situation to pull on
But help certainly comes forward without made known
Every action has got its equal reaction
It need not be proved for any addition or subtraction
It is beyond doubt and rules for all the times
Love is paid in same coin even in bad times
I have said number of times and may reiterate
Don't combine one action with another and relate
It may help no where and increase bitterness
Let us all work for togetherness and happiness on face
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Almost sure win
Why should I worry at all?
If nothing materializes and heaven is not going to fall
I confess having done nothing for others
Now I think a lot and bother
"Rain you should not come now?
I never knew it to happen and if so then how?
These are some of the things we request to always
It is less important even if our prayers sincerely pay
"The things must take positive turn to morrow"
"All my plans must succeed and get green signals to go"
"All others should fall back in their attempt"
Mind may play whole night with ifs and buts to act
Anxiety and eagerness lead us to serious diseases
Some of the brain functions gradually cease
We loose control over sharp intelligence
Commit the grave error in other's presence
As we know honesty certainly rewards
If not immediate then takes us inches forward
With correction or modification in last failed program
All hopes for tightening grip and holding firm
We will never get full satisfaction
Or even if so, may go unnoticed with any indication
We shall show no displeasure or over excitement
As all these activities form day to day movements
The successful man never looks back
He has only ambition to keep everything at stake
He has to plan it to achieve through reasonable means
That shall take him to the position of almost sure win
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Intimacy
I hear people say, "I love my iPhone, "
Or, "I love drinking a Starbucks coffee."
Sometimes: "I love my Versace cologne, "
And also: "I love having this money."
I hear people say, "I love my Walmart, "
Or, "I love the drive-thru at Taco Bell."
"I love my TV. It's state of the art."
"I love the shoes that Nike has to sell."
I hear this: "I love American Idol, "
And, "I love a nice, cold Budweiser."
"I love medicines such as Demerol."
And, "I love my internet provider."
Yet, one thing I don't hear is, "I love you."
Saying that is too intimate to do.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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How Deep Is Your Love?
Superficial, or sacrificial?
Secular, or the supernatural?
How deep is your love?
Would you give up quality of life?
Or give up life itself?
To what do we let go?
To what do we hold on?
People or objects?
How far do we go,
Before we move on?
To our breaking point,
Or until we have proven it.
Hold on to resentment,
Let go of another.
Prove our point, or to prove love.
Beauty is only skin deep.
But beautiful is at the core.
The spirit lives forever.
It endures all.
Our essence, our core, is love itself.
Given by God, as He lives inside of us.
He is buried deep,
Surrounded by lies.
Lies we have bought in a cold cruel world.
A world of shallow love.
Love of self, at the cost of another.
She walked away,
He waited.
She asked, "Why when you had me you did not want me, "
"But now I am gone, and you will fight? "
"You have changed, but it is too late."
"For I have found another."
The man replied, "The answer is simple."
"Why is it, you have me now and do not want me? "
"I have proven the truth of my love."
"I have endured a thousand deaths."
"I have risen each time."
"To become love itself."
"Not for me, but for you."
"Affection is shown, but love is assumed."
"To the superficial, love is all show."
"To the sacrificial, love is the show."
"I can tell you I love you,
"But the words have no substance."
"They disappear in thin air."
"Love is patient."
"Love as a feeling, will come and go."
"Feelings are impatient."
"It is truth that never changes."
"And love, that is true, will endure all."
"As it has since the beginning of time."
"Not as defined by society."
"But as defined by the creator and sustainer."
"It is only once the feelings have broken the heart, the holder of the feelings."
"That the beholder is freed."
"To show the love that will never be broken."
"Love that is true."
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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The Gardener LXXV: At Midnight
At midnight the would-be ascetic
announced:
"This is the time to give up my
home and seek for God. Ah, who has
held me so long in delusion here?"
God whispered, "I," but the ears
of the man were stopped.
With a baby asleep at her breast
lay his wife, peacefully sleeping on
one side of the bed.
The man said, "Who are ye that
have fooled me so long?"
The voice said again, "They are
God," but he heard it not.
The baby cried out in its dream,
nestling close to its mother.
God commanded, "Stop, fool, leave
not thy home," but still he heard not.
God sighed and complained, "Why
does my servant wander to seek me,
forsaking me?"
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Sonnet V: Nothing But No
Nothing but "No," and "Aye," and "Aye," and "No"?
How falls it out so strangely you reply?
I tell ye, Fair, I'll not be answer'd so,
With this affirming "No," denying "Aye."
I say, "I love," you slightly answer "Aye";
I say, "You love," you pule me out a "No";
I say, "I die," you echo me an "Aye";
"Save me," I cry, you sigh me out a "No";
Must woe and I have nought but "No" and "Aye"?
No I am I, if I no more can have;
Answer no more, with silence make reply,
And let me take myself what I do crave.
Let "No" and "Aye" with I and you be so;
Then answer "No," and "Aye," and "Aye" and "No."
poem by Michael Drayton
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Peaceful mind
"Some thing is not there" I cried
"It is missing some where" I decried
Wealth is in plenty and in abundance
I am richest person in world by chance
Two sons, daughters and relatives all stand
They know me well and coolly understand
I need something else to feel satisfied
As they are very close but whole life lied
What made me to feel at uneasiness?
Why was there not all happiness on face?
"If I had no wealth" would they have stood by?
I desperately searched to find answer and made frantic try
No answer came by but added new feature
Now what I understood is naked fact for sure
All are aligned to me for one reason or another
Otherwise there is no wife, children or brother
I will be no more in few more days
That will open free fight for them anyway
There will be tug of war for inheriting fortune
Everybody will be surprised to find none
I have taken full care of my empire
There is hardly anything to acquire
I have left enough for destitute and poor
I shall have some joy to feel them near
Not that I have left them bare handed
Enough care has been taken to see they are not landed
In troubles and face lot many problems
As everything is now dependant on them
I was restless with only one fear
That they may fight over wealth among dear ones
This should not create bad blood and maintain harmony with peace
Life then would pose no problem for them to live at ease
With this little assurance provided by peaceful mind
I turned my eyes to look at them very kind
I smiled at them with great satisfaction
That itself was source of less worry with good indication
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Grandfather Says
"Sit in my hand."
I'm ten.
I can't see him,
but I hear him breathing
in the dark.
It's after dinner playtime.
We're outside,
hidden by trees and shrubbery.
He calls it hide-and-seek,
but only my little sister seeks us
as we hide
and she can't find us,
as grandfather picks me up
and rubs his hands between my legs.
I only feel a vague stirring
at the edge of my consciousness.
I don't know what it is,
but I like it.
It gives me pleasure
that I can't identify.
It's not like eating candy,
but it's just as bad,
because I had to lie to grandmother
when she asked,
"What do you do out there?"
"Where?" I answered.
Then I said, "Oh, play hide-and-seek."
She looked hard at me,
then she said, "That was the last time.
I'm stopping that game."
So it ended and I forgot.
Ten years passed, thirtyfive,
when I began to reconstruct the past.
When I asked myself
why I was attracted to men who disgusted me
I traveled back through time
to the dark and heavy breathing part of my life
I thought was gone,
but it had only sunk from view
into the quicksand of my mind.
It was pulling me down
and there I found grandfather waiting,
his hand outstretched to lift me up,
naked and wet
where he rubbed me.
"I'll do anything for you," he whispered,
"but let you go."
And I cried, "Yes," then "No."
"I don't understand how you can do this to me.
I'm only ten years old,"
and he said, "That's old enough to know."
The New Knighthood
Who gives him the Bath?
"I," said the wet,
Rank-Jungle-sweat,
"I'll give him the Bath!"
Who'll sing the psalms?
"We," said the Palms.
"Ere the hot wind becalms,
"We'll sing the psalms."
Who lays on the sword ?
"I," said the Sun,
Before he has done,
"I'll lay on the sword."
"Who fastens his belt?
"I," said Short-Rations,
" I know all the fashions
"Of tightening a belt!"
Who gives him his spur?
"I," said his Chief,
Exacting and brief,
"I'll give him the spur."
Who'll shake his hand?
"I," said the Fever,
"And I'm no deceiver,
"I'll shake his hand."
Who brings him the wine?
"I," said Quinine,
"It's a habit of mine.
"I'11 come with his wine."
Who'll put him to proof?
"I," said All Earth.
"Whatever he's worth,
"I'll put to the proof."
Who'll choose him for Knight?
"I," said his Mother,
"Before any other,
"My very own Knight."
And after this fashion, adventure to seek,
Sir Galahad was made--as it might be last week!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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There was one I met upon the road
There was one I met upon the road
Who looked at me with kind eyes.
He said, "Show me of your wares."
And this I did,
Holding forth one.
He said, "It is a sin."
Then held I forth another;
He said, "It is a sin."
Then held I forth another;
He said, "It is a sin."
And so to the end;
Always he said, "It is a sin."
And, finally, I cried out,
"But I have none other."
Then did he look at me
With kinder eyes.
"Poor soul!" he said.
poem by Stephen Crane
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Little Guy
I know this little guy, he stands, oh so, about knee high.
He's got the cutest dimples on his cheery face,
Got a smile that lights up the whole place.
He's got the knack for chatter, he invites himself if you won't:
"I'll have that muesli bar please cause my brother don't."
Suppose to have a nap, and in the a tragic voice he confides,
"I was crying the whole time." Ok, please don't make me cry.
Apparently being bounced on the trampoline is hilarious,
But all I can think of is how dangerous.
Not enough sleep is constantly plaguing me,
But he don't care if in bed he's suppose to be.
In the middle of a rousing game of hide-and-seek,
He'll curl up and go to sleep.
Wish I could do just that, and live a bit more like him,
So unaware of all the dangers and troubles surrounding,
Spend a bit more time enjoying the little things
Get the chance to take them all in.
"Can I have a drink? " he toddles up the sink.
"Why of course, here's your drink."
Watch his little legs carry him off to some new adventure,
"You can't catch me! " wait, "I gotcha! "
You're running out of time, little guy,
If only you could stay knee-high.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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The Quarrel
Our quarrel seemed a giant thing,
It made the room feel mean and small,
The books, the lamp, the furniture,
The very pictures on the wall--
Crowded upon us as we sat
Pale and terrified, face to face.
"Why do you stay?" she said, "my room
Can never be your resting place."
"Katinka, ere we part for life,
I pray you walk once more with me."
So down the dark, familiar road
We paced together, silently.
The sky--it seemed on fire with stars!
I said:--"Katinka dear, look up!"
Like thirsty children, both of us
Drank from the giant loving cup.
"Who were those dolls?" Katinka said
"What were their stupid, vague alarms?"
And suddenly we turned and laughed
And rushed into each other's arms.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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The ABC
'Twas midnight in the schoolroom
And every desk was shut
When suddenly from the alphabet
Was heard a loud "Tut-Tut!"
Said A to B, "I don't like C;
His manners are a lack.
For all I ever see of C
Is a semi-circular back!"
"I disagree," said D to B,
"I've never found C so.
From where I stand he seems to be
An uncompleted O."
C was vexed, "I'm much perplexed,
You criticise my shape.
I'm made like that, to help spell Cat
And Cow and Cool and Cape."
"He's right" said E; said F, "Whoopee!"
Said G, "'Ip, 'Ip, 'ooray!"
"You're dropping me," roared H to G.
"Don't do it please I pray."
"Out of my way," LL said to K.
"I'll make poor I look ILL."
To stop this stunt J stood in front,
And presto! ILL was JILL.
"U know," said V, "that W
Is twice the age of me.
For as a Roman V is five
I'm half as young as he."
X and Y yawned sleepily,
"Look at the time!" they said.
"Let's all get off to beddy byes."
They did, then "Z-z-z."
poem by Spike Milligan
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Natural flavor
You opened up like rose
Spread from all sides as you chose
I could sense your presence through nose
It smelt and spread because….
I wanted her along with natural flavor
As she was gifted with natural fervor
All qualities were with her nature
She was the one for which I was very much sure
She teased me by saying "no relation with you"
For a second I was taken back and believed it true
She had come so much close to me
Now I was in position to explain it free
I asked if she was ready to align with
She crushed her tongue in between the teeth
I got wind of it and accepted her answer
She was for it and acknowledged it as follower
It was not going from stated position
We were nice pair with good combination
Her beauty was like glittering gold with original shine
I felt my self very much lucky sailing in heaven
"Aisha" is my real name and stand for promise
You have not at all made sudden surprise
I was in need of gentleman who could take me along
Certainly I am confident and feel never to go wrong
For me relation is not for fun
I can't make everybody sing and run
I am faithful and wish the same
As man are not predictable worth the name
"I am prepared to join you in few days time"
She was bold enough to admit it any time
She needed my answer with firm commitment
I did not hesitate and consented within a moment
She may be relaxed now with my consent
She might have witnessed all the qualities present
I was sure to sail in her boat for life journey
Only needed one last blessings from the almighty
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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New dimension
I fully agree with discarding the "ism"
Not disregarding totally their "ism"
As it has remained age old tradition
To confine with one and only condition
We are no authority to malign
Not to force any one to align
Wrap up in our thoughts
Some of the lessons forcibly taught
Let individual sticks to his own belief
Trust and profess that gives him relief
For worldly worries and tension
So it will be worthless for anything to mention
Yes nationalism has something greater role
Unity is must among population for honest call
To Breath for universal love and to profess
The kind of "ism" that has not been heard on surface
Love for country by people is understandable
But blind faith and "ism" for forcing others is condemnable
Here comes point of conflict where it assumes significance
Then it can't be discarded outright or at once
In my opinion there is greater role for humanism
This "ism" is holier than any other "ism"
It is not folly and should not be considered as such wholly
It is above all "isms" and so to be considered holy
No clever argument can push this "ism" in corner
It has to be realized sooner or later
Some of the intelligent people try to create confusion
It comes not out of pity but just out of infusion
Think of immense relief reaching to affected people
From all corners of world to the people in trouble
No religion or "ism" tag for rendering assistance
It is human face that is rushing without taking any chance
It is certainly not a new dogma
It is like fountain and flora
It flows from human heart with new dimension
Just waiting to show its class with worthless mention
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Spring
(After Rilke)
Spring has returned! Everything has returned!
The earth, just like a schoolgirl, memorizes
Poems, so many poems. ... Look, she has learned
So many famous poems, she has earned so many prizes!
Teacher was strict. We delighted in the white
Of the old man's beard, bright like the snow's:
Now we may ask which names are wrong, or right
For "blue," for "apple," for "ripe." She knows, she knows!
Lucky earth, let out of school, now you must play
Hide-and-seek with all the children every day:
You must hide that we may seek you: we will! We will!
The happiest child will hold you. She knows all the things
You taught her: the word for "hope," and for "believe,"
Are still upon her tongue. She sings and sings and sings.
poem by Delmore Schwartz
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The Gardener XXVI: What Comes From Your Willing Hands
"What comes from your willing
hands I take. I beg for nothing
more."
"Yes, yes, I know you, modest
mendicant, you ask for all that one
has."
"If there be a stray flower for me
I will wear it in my heart."
"But if there be thorns?"
"I will endure them."
"Yes, yes, I know you, modest
mendicant, you ask for all that one
has."
"If but once you should raise your
loving eyes to my face it would make
my life sweet beyond death."
"But if there be only cruel
glances?"
"I will keep them piercing my
heart."
"Yes, yes, I know you, modest
mendicant, you ask for all that one
has."
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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The Voice of Truth - A Short Story
"I cannot love her! , yelled the man.
"And why is that? ", the soft voice questioned.
"She will never change. ", the man exclaimed,
"She yells at me, scolds me and does not respect me."
"I can see how you cannot love her.", replied the voice.
The man loosened up. "You understand? ", he asked.
"Of course I understand" the voice confirmed,
"How can you possibly love a woman like that, "
"When you are expecting so much of her? "
Puzzled, the man listened to the voice further.
"You cannot love and expect at the same time.
You can either love her, or expect from her
You see, the purpose of love is to give.
It is my gift to you, to be given to another.
As is her love for you.
You choose who the gift is given to and who it is not.
You cannot expect her to give you her love.
That is a demand.
All you have the ability to do,
Is to give her yours.
The balance you seek is very unbalanced.
Patience, kindness, grace and mercy are all gifts you can give.
If you are expectant of them, they are no longer a gift.
They become a right, an entitlement or an obligation.
The gift of one's love is not a right, but a privilege.
As are all privileges, if abused, they will be taken away.'
A tear rolled down the man's face.
"My heart has been so full of myself, I had no room in it for her." The man sobbed.
"I can see how that works."
The man seeing the err of his ways, realized his love was not true.
He returned to his wife with a new love.
A love not defined by himself,
But as defined by the voice of truth.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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