raghavendran

Retd Indian railway official, aged 80 years, settled in Bangalore, India, interests - reading & writing poems. Love feed back.

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  • raghavendran 19w

    The Garbage Collectors

    The Garbage Collectors

    This poem is about those self-effacing, faceless thousands who strive hard to keep our cities and towns clean and free from filth. They (men and women) perform their job in most trying and unhygienic conditions risking their health for the welfare of the common man. When we pray for our welfare and for our own kith and kin, should we not spare some thought for them and include them in our prayers for their well being?

    The Garbage Collectors

    With a terminally ill wheelbarrow,
    She struggles every new morrow,
    Pushing it with all her strength
    The lane's entire stretching length.

    With bare hands she spreads the garbage,
    She who is in her advanced age,
    Unaware of the seriousness of the deed;
    She thinks only of many mouths to feed.

    She dumps the garbage in the van
    That waits at the end of the lane;
    With stoic resignation she moves on
    To finish the work that began at dawn.

    The van is three- fourths full,
    There is no moment of lull,
    They're busy cleaning their city
    For it shouldn't be dirty

    Some stand with galoshes on,
    Some stand as though on a lawn,
    None of them show their distaste
    Standing amidst the city's waste.

    They deal with the muck with bare hands
    Even as more muck on the truck lands,
    The stench overwhelms the street,
    While passersby beat a hasty retreat.

    People make a great fuss
    And overtly display their stress
    At the dangerous level of pollution
    And demand an immediate solution.

    Most common men are worried,
    At the sight of garbage vans they scurried,
    Their faces showed unconcealed fear
    When the vans came anywhere near.

    In the stinking repelling garbage van
    Stand men and sometimes women
    Oblivious of the risk to their health
    Which is the most precious wealth.

    Society needs to open its eyes
    To appreciate their sacrifice
    Which in the welfare of common man
    They do without personal gain or plan.

    When they strike work for a day or two,
    People realize their worth true,
    Let's not forget this self-effacing lot
    Who should for ever be in our thought.


    Raghav R
    16 Oct. 2019
    ©raghavendran

  • raghavendran 19w

    The Ultra-modern Birds

    The Ultra-modern Birds

    I saw a nest coming up
    With two birds hard at it,
    Soon the nest was ready
    For a fine family;

    A short while later,
    The birds were busy again
    With building another nest
    Tethered to the old one;

    I beckoned the birds
    My curiosity overpowering me;

    “Hey, birdie! It’s strange
    To see two nests together
    For a single family
    Of birds like yours,
    Why the second one?”
    I said in surprise;

    Both of them exchanged glances
    And looked at me in wonderment,

    “Ah!  You’re woefully out of date,
    Didn’t you know we need space
    When our family grew in size?
    We’re expecting kids soon
    And don’t they need space?
    Plus we need privacy too,

    You know kids grow fast
    And they demand privacy,
    We have seen this trend
    Catching up in our creed.

    Our own young ones
    Insist on space and privacy
    Which they say
    They have observed
    From the likes of
    The modern human breed.

    We’re a bit modern too, you know,
    Hence we believe in the thought
    More space, more comfort”

    Bewildered for a moment was I
    While thoughts whirred in my mind,
    “Adaptation to changing times”
    It’s what the birds two
    Have taught me in simple terms;

    I came to realise
    Modern thoughts are not
    The sole monopoly
    Of mankind alone.


    Raghav R
    09.03.2016 
    ©raghavendran

  • raghavendran 20w

    Aliens and their Side of the Story

    Aliens from space land on earth and try to befriend the earthlings and establish relationship. But unfortunately their efforts end in vain since human beings were scared and rush back leaving the aliens bewildered. This poem is a result of my having read many reports in the dailies and also having watched movies on aliens from space.

    Aliens and Their Side of the Story.


    We are aliens from the Milky Way
    Who landed here just yesterday,
    We saw some who were unlike us,
    They were earthlings, we guess.

    They took to their heels on sighting us,
    Scared probably at the strangeness
    Of our appearance and colour:
    Their faces turned to a sickly pallor;

    Curiosity seemed to have won them,
    One by one they slowly came
    And stood far away in a defensive stance
    To run back, if something happened, per chance;

    We shouted to them in a loud voice
    Drowning their cacophonous noise,
    “We have been watching you for a while,
    Even from a distance of a mile;

    We are from outer space,
    We want to talk to you face to face,
    There stands our space ship,
    We’re here for your friendship”

    Strange might have been our language and speech,
    Which must have seemed like a screech,
    For with shaking limbs and bulging eyes,
    They ran back with loud cries.


    Raghav R
    10 Oct. 2019
    ©raghavendran

  • raghavendran 20w

    Lightning Strike in Heaven

    Man is known for his cunningness. He has the gift or the advantage of the sixth sense and he never fails to make use of it to achieve the result he desires. Some have no respect for scruples. They want to have their way, come what may. In this poem , we have one such person who even dares to meddle with the elements of Nature to feed his lost ego, and gain a place of importance among celestial bodies. A satire on human trait.


    Lightning Strike in Heaven


    He was a leader of a sort
    Who has mastered the art
    Of causing a ‘lightning strike’
    Which just one shout on the mike;

    With incredible power and clout,
    Blessed with lung power to shout,
    He had brought many to their feet
    Making them accept defeat;

    Of late he found life on earth dull,
    There were not many for him to gull,
    So he decided to fly
    To the vast blue sky;

    He strapped on the personal rocket,
    Stuffed some tiny gadgets in his pocket
    And off he flew to the Milky Way
    Where he wanted to have his say;

    Close to the stars he flew
    Enjoying the thrilling view
    When he spotted a star weak,
    Totally subdued and meek;

    His sharp instincts coming to the fore,
    Immediately his thinking cap he wore,
    Approaching close to the listless star,
    He planned to cause in heaven a war;

    “You seem to be far too weak,
    Your future seems to be utterly bleak,
    What ails thee, O! Sinking star,
    I’ve come to help you from afar”

    Thus spake the crafty man,
    Already having designed a plan
    To use the innocent, gullible star,
    As a tool in the cosmic war;

    “Have you got a health card?
    You should now be in a medical ward,
    Any more delay will surely mean
    You’ll soon become a ‘has been’;

    Is there none to fight for you
    And get you what’s your due?
    Your twinkling has always been on
    Even though you’re not seen in the morn;

    Stop twinkling at once and now, 
    Ask me not why or how,
    You’re from this instant on strike,
    Call your comrades to do alike;

    Succumb you’ll not until the time
    You’re restored to your prime,
    Health Insurance is a Must
    And it surely is a claim just”;

    Every star in the galaxy heard him,
    Soon all of them sporting a face grim,
    In unison and in one voice
    Began shouting and making noise;

    “Twinkle from now we shall not
    Until our rights we have got,
    It’s a “Lightning Strike”
    Every one will do alike;

    Thus the stars their twinkling stopped
    And on to the bandwagon hopped,
    Beginning the first 'star war'
    Goaded by a trickster from afar.


    Raghav R
    5 October 2019
     ©raghavendran

  • raghavendran 21w

    Terror of Thirteen

    The hero is somewhat a fictional character with all the exploits attributed to him, most  of which are seen or heard in our daily life.   In fact some of the exploits of the hero I have myself seen and also heard from others. So the hero is not a totally a fictional character.

    A Terror of Thirteen

    He is the naughtiest I’ve ever seen,
    A boy precocious, lanky and lean,
    He scares all alike, young or old
    By his deeds dangerous and bold;

    He enters wherever he likes,
    Whomsoever he sees, he strikes,
    Runs like a deer or a hare
    And competes with the strong mare;

    He passes water on plants and flowers,
    Says it’s urea-rich fertilising showers
    And demands a fee for the job,
    Do you know this boy named Bob?

    The bunch of bananas ready to eat
    Hangs within the reach of five feet,
    Watched with care and delight,
    At night, it makes a mysterious flight;

    Someone said it’s Bob’s work,
    Who stole it when it was dark,
    But wouldn’t say a word aloud,
    He’s terrified of Bob and his crowd;

    He leaves no marks after the crime,
    He is squeaky clean without a hint of grime,
    Oh! How he escapes his dirty deeds!
    He’ll act pious by counting beads;

    He acts the lord everywhere
    And moves without fear or care,
    For all this, he is just thirteen,
    Dangerous, flighty and pretty mean;

    If ever you meet him face to face,
    Just smile and hasten your pace,
    He has not been seen for a while,
    Maybe he is shut up in a jail.


    Raghav R
    09.04.2016
    ©raghavendran

  • raghavendran 21w

    A Baffling Mystery

    A Baffling Mystery


    To the glittering Mall my legs I bent,
    Into the stalls I at once went;
    Everything I wanted was there;
    Everything inviting, fine and fair;

    Off the shelf I picked an apple
    With a tiny printed label
    Which proclaimed where it came from
    And how much it cost per gram;

    I gave it a thorough check
    Looking for a scar or a speck
    To gather knowledge of its health
    And its nutritional wealth;

    It was an apple truly perfect
    With no disease or defect;
    I paid for it and walked out
    Fully satisfied and without doubt;

    I cut the apple with a sharp knife,
    Lo! A worm long fell without life,
    And on the plate inert it lay;
    How it got in, who can say!


    Raghav R
    29 Sept 2019.
    ©raghavendran

  • raghavendran 22w

    Grandpa and Grandon
    Role Reversal


    Grandpa and Grandson 
      Role Reversal

    I walked him holding his hand tiny
    In my hand, wrinkly and spiny,
    Along the uneven road to the park
    When the sky hadn’t turned dark;

    He had questions curious too many,
    Some of which bordered on the zany,
    I did answer him in my own fashion,
    With much laughter and gesticulation;

    Then one day he came to me running
    In a school dress quite stunning,
    Holding yet again his supple hand,
    I took him to school feeling grand;

    He sat with me to learn the alphabet,
    Such a charming kid and bright, I bet,
    I thought there was none around
    At least, no one by me was found;

    It was at the touch of his teen,
    As a tutor I lost my sheen,
    Of himself, he seemed confident,
    From his actions, it became evident;

    When his teens came to an end,
    Support he was ready to lend,
    For age has taken its toll on me
    And I had problems with my knee;

    Life in college had made him bold,
    Me he was ready to scold,
    “Why do you venture out alone?
    The dangers lurking you’d have known”;

    Now he walks me holding my hand
    And waits for me, when tired I stand,
    Teaches me the nuances of computer
    Like a wizard and a born tutor.


    Raghav R
    27.09.2019
    ©raghavendran

  • raghavendran 22w

    I'm a Recreated Man

    I'm a Recreated Man.

    An accident victim narrates the pain and ordeal experienced by him from the very moment of a gruesome accident to the time of his transformation as a new human being with totally altered looks gained after undergoing a series of surgeries.

    I'm a Recreated Man

    I was God's creation once
    With regular features and sense,
    My face was well known and my gait too,
    None needed any special clue.

    From childhood to youth I was adored
    Which made me go overboard,
    I was the envy of those around me
    And like me they wanted to be.

    But then everything went wrong,
    I was not the same before long,
    A gruesome accident changed everything
    My arm was put in a sling.

    There was no God-given face,
    The fire left no trace
    Of the bewitching face of youth
    Which looked most uncouth.

    My trade mark gait was gone
    With bones broken and ligaments torn,
    None could recognize me as before
    For no resemblance to the old I bore.

    I banished myself for years
    From home with stinging tears,
    To a foreign shore and land,
    To a hospital by experts manned.

    Metal rods, nuts and bolts
    Now my body steady holds,
    My face is not the same
    With which to the world I came.

    A full set of dentures new
    Is there for all to view,
    I look a different man
    With a strange mix of tan.

    True, I am alive and look human,
    Unlike the time when I looked a demon,
    With a burnt face and a ruined head,
    Crying like a child in the hospital bed.

    I am no longer the God-created man
    Although I still belong to human clan,
    I was born by His Grace once,
    To enjoy a life of pleasure immense.

    Now I am surely reborn,
    No longer feeling forlorn,
    True to say, I'm "Man-created Man",
    With a new look gifted by the medical man.

    Like an edifice built brick by brick,
    They built me using every medical trick,
    For mine was a hopeless case
    And they built me from toe to face.

    Tell me, am I not right
    In expressing my delight
    At Man's power to recreate
    What the Lord once did create?

    Raghav R
    21 Sept 2019
    ©raghavendran

  • raghavendran 23w

    Around the Corner

    Around the Corner
    by
    Charles Hansen Town

    The poem by Charles Hansen Town brings to light the curse of "procrastination" - How people tend to make excuses and satisfy themselves about the inevitability of their deeds. And when in the end reality stares them in the face, it becomes too late to mend things. No reparation is possible. I was struck by the truth of this poem, hence I share this with my Mirakee companions. My eyes were moist when I read the final stanza of the poem.


    Around the Corner

    Around the corner, I have a friend
    In this great city, that has no end,

    Yet days go by, and weeks rush on
    And before I know it, a year is gone,

    And I never see my old friend's face
    For life is a swift and terrible race,

    He knows, I like him just as well
    As in the days when I rang his bell

    And he rang mine, we were younger then
    And now are busy, tired men,

    Tired with playing a foolish game
    Tired with trying to make a name,

    "Tomorrow" I say, "I will call on Jim"
    Just to show that I think of him,

    But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes
    And the distance between us grows and grows,

    Around the corner yet miles away
    Here is a telegram, Sir, Jim dies today,

    And That's what we get in the end
    Around the corner a vanished friend.

    By Charles Hansen Town


    Raghav R
    20 Sept 2019

  • raghavendran 23w

    Dido's Plaint

    Dido was the Queen of Carthage.   She fell in love with Aeneas, a hero who fought alongside Trojans.  Aeneas was ordered by a divine command to leave Carthage.   When he obeyed the divine command and left Carthage despite Dido’s pleadings, Dido became dejected and heartbroken, and ended her life in a funeral pyre.

    I have written this poem , imagining the 
    feelings of a true lover who cannot stand 
    desertion by the beloved.

    Dido’s Plaint

    Aeneas, My Love, My All,
    Why shouldst thou heed the call?
    Tell the Heaven that Dido will die
    If thou wouldst from me hie;

    My heart is not mine,
    It’s entwined with thine,
    O! Aeneas, Desert me not,
    By me thou cannot be forgot;

    Thou pledged thy heart to me
    And I pledged mine to thee,
    There’s no life for me without thee,
    Canst thou live without me?

    Why dost the Heaven demand thee away
    From love’s hold and sway?
    Are the Gods against love?
    Them it surely doth not behove;

    Will Cupid stop his darts
    From flying to lovers’ hearts?
    If love is not to flourish,
    Then may his darts perish;

    The blooming fragrant flowers,
    The tickling heavenly showers,
    The soft rays of the moon
    To me will no longer be a boon;

    Queen of Carthage I no longer wish to be,
    But a slave in love with thee,
    Take me wherever thou will,
    And gladly I’ll follow in thy trail;

    My body will lifeless fall
    If thou heed’st Heaven’s call,
    When the sound of thy footsteps will die,
    Carthage for their queen will cry;

    There awaits me a funeral pyre,
    A glowing, seething, mountain of fire,
    Let the fire consume me
    And may my memory haunt thee,

       
    Aeneas, wherever thou be.


    Raghav R
    30.11.2015
    ©raghavendran