Raindrops
Droplets of water falling on my head
Heavens opening up releasing sans partiality
The ambrosia from above, uniformly!
Parched earth drinking greedily again n again
While unable to absorb dense concrete pavements
Dispatch these raindrops unceremoniously
Marching them in the formation of tiny
Rivulets losing their identity
Down the drains.
Where drains have stuffed mouths
There is flooding and sloshing
Meanwhile moving cars scare up muddy spurts
Spraying on the unwary passersby
Who disdainfully brush it off
All in a day’s work.
In gardens and yards, there is sudden rejuvenation
Feathered twitter, flowers n leaves all perk up
Blooming gleefully in celebration
Partaking of this manna, a windfall much welcomed
The frogs as well are all in high gear and
Leap riveting and riveted
Nests are again inhabited by birds who earlier
Were cowering, hiding in deference to the raindrops
Falling on the head
Even the squirrels all hurry off
Hither n thither away from the wet
House pets too slink indoors
Overhead wires and cables
Become stringed pearls
Fit for royalty
Sunlight touches these drops transforming them
Into balls of fire exuding myriad colors
Pleasing the eye.
Shingled roof tops become wet and shiny
Houses after the wash become squeaky clean
Dust-free and inviting purified air
A gift of the raindrops
Provides a jumpstart to life
And all around there is a quiet sense of happiness.
“Criticism, like rain, should be gentle enough to nourish a man’s growth
without destroying his roots.” -Frank A. Clark
Originally Published: September 20, 2001
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The Enemy
I want to find him…
Is he within or
Is he without?
Is he white
Is he black
Is he brown or
Is he yellow?
Is he here
Is he there
Is he yonder
Is he across the ocean
Is he across the desert or
Is he across the mountain?
Is he in the air
Is he on the ground
Is he underground?
Seek him I shall
No place is too far
No place is too hard
No place too dangerous!
I have the nerve
I have the grit
I have the means
And seek him I shall
Such is my covenant!
Today the discredit of words is very great. Most of the time the media transmit lies.
In the face of an intolerable world, words appear to change very little. State
power has become congenitally deaf, which is why –but the editorialists forget it
–terrorists are reduced to bombs and hijacking.
John Berger
1926-, British Actor, Critic
Originally Published: September 14, 2001
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Grandma
My grandma is
an oasis
a shady oak
a delicious chocolate cake
a delightful prankster
a curmudgeon
the head honcho
the clan leader
the arbitrator
beautiful inside out
does not suffer fools gladly
and I love her!
The reason grandparents and grandchildren get along so well is that they have a common enemy.
Sam Levenson
(1911 - 1980)
Originally Published: September 9, 2001
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Mom
Your love was boundless
As a helpless baby
You nurtured me
You taught me to
Walk
Talk
And to manage myself
Each time I faltered
You were there to hold me
Your lifeline held out
In times of need
You rejuvenated
My faith in me
You were in retrospect
A personification of love
When in doubt
Of my self-worth
Regardless of my displeasure
You were critical and honest
When necessary
You did not pander
To all my outrageousness
Your good sense kept me
From making an utter fool
Of my self always
You did not disparage
When I made mistakes
But encouraged me to continue
Today my tenacity, grit n success
Are all your everlasting gifts
You infused doses of oxygen n
Life-saving blood constantly
Today I can proudly say
That I am doubly blessed to have
you as my mother and vouch to
carry on your legacy faithfully.
The mother’s heart is the child’s schoolroom.-Henry Ward Beecher
1813-1887, American Preacher, Orator, Writer
Originally Published: September 9, 2001
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Sister
We are alike…
In so much
As we share
The same genes
The same features
The same race
The same food predilections.
We are unalike…..
Where you are tall n shapely
I am short and stubby
Where you are confident
I am doubtful
Where you are successful
I am struggling
Where you are questioning
I am trusting
Where you are fearless
I am fearful
Where you go for the jugular
I falter always
My killer instinct
Does not exist
Today you are
The epitome
Of Beauty and fame
Yet you are
Always on your toes!
Always followed by
People ready to pull
You down the ladder!
I am still
Struggling
Making ends meet
Surrounded by
Loving friends
As I am their part and parcel
With shared laughter and tears
Shared dreams
Shattered and shattering!
Shared worries some over
Some to be dealt with
Yet I am happy
And at peace.
“Sibling relationships outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust.”
– Erica E. Goode
Originally Published: September 9, 2001
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The Father
His face beamed
His eyes filled with joy
His chest puffed with pride
On beholding their achievements!
The result of such flowering
Possible only due to constant
Loving care and nurturing
Enduring sleepless nights!
His children, his own extension
His dreams coming to fruition
Making him forget all those
Hours spent in back-breaking
Labor, year after year
Endured happily
As it was a labor of
Love!
A man’s desire for a son is usually nothing but the wish to duplicate himself in order that such a remarkable pattern may not be lost to the world.-Helen Rowland
1875-1950, American Journalist
By the time a man realizes that maybe his father was right, he usually has a son who thinks he’s wrong.-Charles Wadworth
Originally Published: September 7, 2001
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Great Expectations
In a deluxe coffin did he lie hands folded
The serenity of his lying in state belied
By the fixated smirk on his face
Having lived a full life on his own terms
In death too he scoffed at the world!
His numerous mourners
Gave him a royal send-off
His wake a well-attended affair
The city’s who’s who and hoi polloi
Milling at the funeral feast-
A veritable gourmet’s delight!
After all the eulogies
All the final goodbyes
After all the shed tears
The kith and kin remained
Hands in the pockets rolled into fists
Hiding the nervousness
Of their great expectations!
Finally the attorneys arrived
The Croesus’s will to be read
The hush of silence could be cut with a knife
The bated breath was let out in a Unified sigh of relief
Now all ears were straining to catch every gem
That emanated from the mouth of the attorney
Excitement and expectations rose in a crescendo
And then there was pin drop silence……
The rich dead man had left all his worldly goods
To his battery of servants with the stipulation
That they continue to live in his mansion
And attend to his numerous pets and stables
His well appointed residence would be opened to public
And all his kith and kin could come and stay au gratis
Because that is all he owed them
Nothing more, nothing less
They were crestfallen and shaken
Some had foolishly borrowed money
Against their great expectations
And now were in a bind
The old man who had lived
From 1910 – 1989
Had in summation
Lived up to his dash-
The period between his
birth and death
At his owns terms
In his own way
Signing out with a
Flourish!!
We inherit from our ancestors gifts so often taken for granted… Each of us contains within… this inheritance of soul. We are links between the ages, containing past and present expectations, sacred memories and future promise.
Edward Sellner
Originally Published: September 7, 2001
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