When you look at me look at you I know you see a dramatic face Wonder, longing and genuine despair All mixed as one, with no repair. We are just women, both the same Nothing old, nothing new Warming our kids in our arms apace Like winter leaves do the dew. What’s the difference? Is there a trace? Hardly any, yet it’s seen In many ways and more than one For the world is but a race for grace
I wonder how, I wonder why I scratch my head, before I lie It keeps it warm for work overtime Removes the cobwebs and the grime And helps me think on the fly. I thought it does, until one fateful day I came across the chance to pray, I looked around and wondered What to say… I scratched my head, said out loud Lord, I struggle to live, I no not why, I’d like to die, but that’s a lie, and then I cried.
Hello Mother, Mother Superior, Here I am on Maidan street Feeling inferior as so many sleep On the road, with no one, but no one To give them food or help them eat; Or wipe their tears as they weep. Help me out, send someone here To take them home and quell their fear. To the Lord I pray, their wounds to heal No more to roam, as love abounds Warms their hearts and renews their minds, Till their life again, regains its zeal.
Listen pals, just see what I found A pair of specs I hereby impound Tell no one I warn you lest you lose Your friends and me…. Whose it is, is our mystery to solve We have time so let’s all resolve - To catch this guy we seek. Let’s find him and find out why He abandoned his specs, was he high? He must be here, very near the creek. He might have stumbled and fallen, he might be unsighted, he might be weak.
I am ensconced in heaven, At vantage point for free It was so much fun, up through the tree It was designed for us, my friends and me! We keenly watch the games people play The sights and sounds, the clothes on display As the master of the willow, Virat Kohli Hits a massive six and it soars over me! I hear the cheer and ruminate, Over missing school, and our future fate Will I reach the heights he’s scaled? Or will this perch be my checkmate?
The Road ahead seems easy and clear,
But the mirror tells me it could cost me dear.
My age shows, and the trees bow
As the wind blows.
What I see reflects my life -
My basket is full, but in my mind
Speculation’s rife. Will I sell and then earn a rest
Or fail to gel, and trade my nest?
That I believe is my test.
I look ahead with a tinge of fear
And say to myself
All the best.
Pic: Prabhakar Kulal
I’d love to use my useless heels
Over these frayed and rusted wheels;
I know I can’t, so your extended hand,
Tells me only you can understand.
You pull me ahead when I’m low on steam,
And ready for dead. You save me energy,
And roughed up palms, but when done with love,
It’s a basket of alms. And though you help,
You also hurt, the remains of what I feel.
But I’ll never look back or lament my fate,
You taught me that, my little mate.
My only question – Will time heal my heel?
Brian the Muse! 