Tuesday, 12 February 2013


With sweet smile,
The baby stands in love of
Grandmother, happy invention.

She smiles
In her happiness
Behind grandson’s smiling.

Sparkling smiling
Of baby grandson
Drapes across her countenance.

Love of grandmother,
To get her grandson
In sweet smiles, everlasting.  

Saturday, 9 February 2013


Moving through natural garden,
I am on board of an electric train,
With a ticket to go Guntur, AP,
Bringing my baggage on the board.

Green, passing by speedily,
With hill-tops moving in curved line,
Contour of binding line elates the scene,
Outside of our moving train.

The winter day passes on journey,
A well designer creates a new scene
That contemplates slops of green passage,
Trees are like scarf moving behind.

I am arising like tenant of life,
In the percept of green-birth,
As if looking glass is green resort,
The earth makes images, beauty of the nature.

I feel proud in the gentle mirth
Of the nature hurriedly passing my vision,
Amid concrete constructions, stations, towns,
Those are waking in the vast natural stream,

I am moving, surrounding glory fills mind,
And someone makes everything sharp,
Around the vision, and ripe food grains
Are to be collected and recollected, near river basins.

Enormous source for surviving plight,
Keeps us all in salt and in honey
Of the great creation over the earth,
Breathing, and imploring what is more in cycle.

Of our life, love makes our courage
With all the nature’s things, we are participating,
In best performance of our dream,
Mind gets healing touch with the earth’s green. 

Saturday, 2 February 2013


I am missing something,
I imagine my work to be done
Not in smoke, but in colorful strokes,
In liberal way of existence
And I want to make it a space station,
Promising platform for aspiration,

But all my attempts are settled
Into compromise, in clogged force,
As if a heavy fog hovers over in my life,
Horizon is not seen,
The great blue line has lost its abundant race,
And I am moving into nothingness.

I am missing something,
My leg slips from intimation,
Fingers are not on my skin,
I cannot stare steadily over arousal,
Sounds of my love go beyond selection,
I am brought to the bottom of love.

I am missing something,
As a solo performer, I am dull,
As a touching man, I am cool,
I cannot put wit to my living pattern,
I put myself in neatly inside of solitude,
I am lost in the rigged sound of world.

My dream gets an axe-blow in echo of life,
And I do not understand the world.