Friday, May 12, 2017

Poem: The Old Bungalow

My mornings are spent
Defending critters from each other 
And themselves

The Redbird with its broken talon
The fat brown dove bullying its younger mate
The sparrows pecking at my marigold
Having words with the squirrel

I’m once again that little girl
Who roamed the grounds of that old bungalow
Playing out imaginary scenes
Rescuing critters who didn’t want to be rescued
When my life was this one long journey
I had yet to undertake

I hadn’t many friends I could call my own
Who wants to hang around Miss Goody Two Shoes?
And yet I had the best of childhoods
Thanks to that old bungalow

Children will invent games if you’ll let them
I tell the other mothers 
As my little girl acts out complete scenes
From movies she recently watched
When her friends would rather play with each other
She doesn’t mind
She goes it alone, for several hours 

She is nothing like me
And yet she is
We both learned or knew
How to be friends with solitude
Because we never are alone
When we have ourselves
And an old bungalow
Filled with critters

As a mother stands guard
To fill in the spaces

(c) VedicVerses (Rucha Gokhale)

Tuesday, May 09, 2017

Poem: The Wait

Patience is a virtue.
So say the hapless victims
Of that wicked siren
Called Hope.

In what must an Atheist
Put her faith?
In Hope?
In all that is just and right?
That sounds too much like
For her taste.

How must a Romantic
Defend her faith?
With science and probability?
Cause and effect?
Or fact-based evidence?
Where's the fun in that?

Maybe the distraction of the debate
Between her twin souls
Is Patience after all!

At least it helps
Keep her company
As she waits.

(c) VedicVerses (Rucha Gokhale)