New Year Musings (Poem)

New Year Musings

 

As a charming lad

Crooning songs atop the

Almond tree

Singing like the koel – is no big deal

In the youthful brimming days

Penning poems on Gul mohar

On the hopping hoopoe and straddling lapwings

And extemporaneously writing

Short haiku-like poems

Is no big thing either

 

During the unbearable wintry

Months

Trekking in minus 40 degree F

Standing erect like the emperor penguin

In the freezing snow showers

And blizzards

 

While

Being hit uninterruptedly

On the face with snowflakes

Daily walking for forty-five minutes

Then you come to know;

Or intimations

Of

What is Brahman, what ‘s ecstasy,

What’s Advaita

That is possible for only

A

Rajayogi Narendra,

Acharya Sri Rama Sarma, or Padmakar – only

They can unfathom it

Poets like me

People like myself swing

In the cradle of nature

Meditating on the essence of

The conglomerate embodiment of

The Eight entities (Copyright 2026 by the author)

(Translated from the Telugu original poem penned on the

eve of Telugu New Year)

ఉగాది స్వరాలు

 

చిన్నారి పొన్నారి చిఱుత కూకటి నాడు -

నాడు బాదం  చెట్టుపై నుంచి 

కోయిలలా  గీతములు పాడుట గొప్ప కాదు

నూనూగు మీసాల పాల పొంగు 

యౌవనములో తురాయి, రేల పూలపై

హూపుల మీద, తీతిర పిట్టల పై  

కొంగ్రొత్త

నానీలు వ్రాయటం పెద్ద గొప్ప కాదు 

కాదు,

తీవ్ర దుర్భర హేమంత, శిశిర ఋతువుల్లో  

సున్నాకి దిగువ, క్రింద నలభై డిగ్రీల 

ఫారెన్ హీట్ లో బిగిసిపోయే చలిలో 

స్థాణువులా చక్రవర్తి పెన్ గ్విన్ లా 

ముఖము మీద బరఫ్ 

ఎడతెరపి లేకుండా పడ్తుంటే 

నిర్భరముగా ప్రతిరోజు దినదినము

నలభై నిమిషాలు నడిచివెళ్తుంటే 

తెలుస్తుంది 

బ్రహ్మమేమిటో, ఆనందమేమిటో, అద్వైతమంటే 

ఏమిటో - అది కొందరికే సాధ్యం 

ఆచర్య శ్రీ రామ శర్మ, రాజయోగి  

నరేంద్ర, పద్మాకర్ లాంటి వాళ్ళకి -

నాలాంటి వాళ్ళు ప్రకృతి ఒడిలో 

ఓలలాడుతూ 

అష్టమూర్తిని ధ్యానిస్తూ …  అత్రి Copyright 2026 by the author

 

The Blind Spot (Poem)

The Blind Spot

It 

Opened my inner eyes suddenly

The little blind 

Winged creature

Was stuck

In

Some unknown surroundings

We don’t know

How it came inside

It had occurred once

Before too

But what a marvelous

Creature it is!

It could save itself

From all the walls,

The steep inclined

Ceiling, the hanging

Fan and domed lights

‘Cause it can see (feel) 

Without Eyes

The stealth bomber

Is

Only half-a-century old

Here, this little mammal

(Thanks to million years

Of evolution)

Can avoid collisions

With the walls and

Other hanging objects 

And

Find its way out -

Of an open window

Or door

Often we think

We’re blessed 

With

The Five Senses

And a few more

Like intuition or prescience 

Internal signals

And then cry helplessly

When we lose

A bit of hearing,

Sight, smell, or touch

But all along

We've been groping in the 

Dark – really.

We can’t see the infrared

Though we do feel the

Sun’s warmth thro’ skin

We can’t hear the infra sound

Of the chronological time

We are prisoned in the

Now or past incarnations’

Dense fog

Then why?

Why?

This crust of ‘useless pride’

Whatever we gained thru’

Evolution and brain -

Did it make us lose?

Some senses too

Better be

Light and live

Live

Lightly with a feather touch;

With least perturbation

To

The ambient surroundings

And creatures  

Copyright 2024 by the author

Monochromatic Grating

Meditative steps through

Fresh talcum of snow

Through the dark and light linear stripes

Is ennui

A predicament of man alone?

Cold wind, freezing rain,

Or overcast dark evening late fall

Formless leaded clouds

Do they bother the feathered couple?

The lady is asleep weightless

With beak tucked in her chest

She has no cares - floating in sublime peace

Peace of dreamland

Why not?

Her Cygnus is right beside her

Showering affection and 

Covering with a blanket of security

And serenity

Thought of feeding some nuts

But, then changed my mind quickly

Why disturb that elegant

Lovely peace of the couple?

Cannot intrude the zone of

That intimate hamsa-dwaya

In times past

These slits would shine with colors

Splatter with rainbow painted droplets

Who knows whether there would

Be colored lights this time

With the falling Hedges

And the subliming subprime MBS

Who knows whether

This holiday season will be

Chromatic or monochromatic

copyright 1/4/09