Creative Guncha

Coercion ! While he strives to protect the lot Of his country, a geographic spot, Unmindful of his cuts and wounds With unsightly events his mind’s consumed. Heart heavy and a blemished soul, Unwavering strength he still can dole. For a noble woman awaits his return, Filled with anguish and concern. For her son, a precious soul Straight featured, taciturn ! There is so much she wishes to convey, To this hardened world some day. Of perseverance and sacrifice, Of anticipations and parting cries ! Her mind is full. At her heart strings she pulls. Bridling them to stay on course, Pretending courage, her throat hoarse, From secret cries, Some useless tries Of negotiations with Almighty. Oh what a price ! She trades and barters In her mind she charters, A flight to the unforeseen land. If only her precious can be returned In place of her, She’s turned a Marchand ! Offering everything she possibly can, Her prayers unanswered With hardened heart she now ...

Meditation! Searching for peace, Posture yogic, eyes shut. I sit in meditation, My soul attempting to rebut A world full of perfect lines, Standing, slanting, sleeping, That form giant skyscrapers. Dark sky fuming, With smoggy grey clouds, Raring to engulf human souls ! Deep in meditation still, Attempting to block out the world mean. Carving a niche deeper, In the blades of grass green. Intently exhaling the fumes, Involuntarily inhaling deep the toxins ! Pretending now to achieve A state of yogic dream. Of exuberant colours, Red, yellow, orange and cream; Subtle alchemy to turn the air clean, Like a mentalist working unseen. Sudden peals of laughter from teens, Gossiping nearby sitting in teams. Breaking me out of my reverie, And my pretend dream. Of music crescendoing, Air fresh and clean ! My eyes slightly opening To slits that detect Another human being. Close by in the lanes and lanes, Of rich vehicles parked, A visibly bored cyclist sl...

The Red Lipstick ! The enchantress steps out, Armed with her arsenal, a pout. She has arrived and is here to stay No bad, sad, bleak or black day, Can stop the tempest in her purposeful stride, As her red lips form that perfect smile. The laughter ringing with confidence supreme, A business can take off or crash down at her will. A torrent can follow her or a traffic stand still, If she opens those red lips and laughter spills. Her little handbag with a raised flap, Smaller is the treasure in her fistful clasp. Admiring herself in a mirror at hand, Her red lipstick plays a trick grand. Setting up a pace for a day new, Her spirits soaring as she takes a pew. Secretive is the reflection that stares back, Splashing the canvas red, right on track ! The warmth of a bosom can this red seem to a child, Fiery like a seductress she makes men follow her wild ! Intentful, determined epitomise her, Cool too casually becomes her ! Her red lipstick’s truly a weapon heady, ...

The Litigation! The drama unfolded, In a packed courtroom. Damsel in distress, Young man, clueless. In their hearts, no desertion. A little agitation, Maybe some aggression. Looking for a re-conciliation, Surely not proper litigation. Handsome youth, Damsel petite. Had fallen in love, Like a magic trick. The sky was dark, Bright stars were quick. To cast a spell, And weave a lovely flick. Love seemed thick, Worth a photo click! What went wrong in their connection? Attorneys there were in contention! Plaintiff and Litigant - A well planned disputation. As they declared the case to rest.  At the equal division of everything the couple possessed! How to divide was anybody’s guess! The drama turned humorous, As the little pooch whimpered, To see his doggy possessions scattered, While they divided and bickered, He to the lady’s lap scampered, Lest they bisect him in division! The car being the man’s prized possession, The damsel was ready to use dis...

Butterfly I am a little butterfly With patterned bright wings, Flying over the mountains Swaying with the winds. Flitting on branches Of trees brown green, Spotting round peaches Coloured red green. I look for flowers With petals that gleam, To suck out the nectar It feels like a dream. I swiftly fly away Chased by children or by teens, Poking around bushes Standing in a team. I can see colours Men cannot even dream, Bobbing in the moonlight While humans sleep. Defining freedom Skimming up a stream, Silence is my forte I don’t scream ! Symmetrical I may be My species umpteen, Myriad are my colours Attribute of my genes. Camouflaging in buttercups Blooming yellow cream, Managing to hide Even when I preen ! I am a little butterfly Swaying in the wind. Dr. Guncha Gupta 3/7/2019

Language Fun ! The love of the language Expressed in poetry to assuage A desire to create. Using words to gauge The depth in sentences. Finding meaning at every stage. The nouns in sentences, Meant to avoid pretences. Precisely refer To Mr. Brown, the House, the Jolly Town or simply the Clown ! Or an event if one prefers. Like the Ball at the Simpsons. Distinguishing Proper from Common. Naming a person in particular Or define a class all common. Countable to Uncountable. A noun singular ! Collective to Possessive. A pride of lions, Or a book that is mine A noun that brings a sense of belonging ! A verb comes handy To describe work dandy. Take action, depict an occurrence. Or suffix them forming gerunds. Playing with a gaggle of geese Or teasing a swarm of bees ! Marching like an Army of soldiers Or sailing with a crew of sailors ! Smelling a bouquet of flowers To watching a galaxy of stars ! And when one doesn’t like to name, Pronoun can with a...

Imperfect Life The tides of time have always vouched, For perfections that are fairly couched. From edgy rocks that rivers trimmed and transformed, Into solid pebbles with curves smooth round. The pots without cracks, Lives rolling on perfect tracks. The sunrise, the sunset Like clockwork present, Not a day missed nor a night lost. The universe in perfect a sync, Celestial bodies on set orbits blink. But even on a perfect weather day Sky can turn blue or gray, The day from sad to gay, And universe shed asteroids away, Life may seem not as perfect say. The tides of time I feel have changed, And it is time to embrace The scarred, broken, blemished or bent With equal aplomb and grace. For times ahead herald a trace, Of uniqueness and of new ways ! The broken flute exclusively plays, A tune not heard in many ways. That cracked pot could be used, Hung up high to water like dew. The lush green colour of plants so real, But the leaves red or brown too look d...