Life Through a Prism

Life Through a Prism

by Umasankar

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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781482895773
Publisher: Partridge Singapore
Publication date: 11/06/2014
Pages: 148
Product dimensions: 8.50(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.38(d)

Read an Excerpt

Life Through a Prism


By Umasankar

Trafford Publishing

Copyright © 2014 Umasankar
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4907-0292-6



CHAPTER 1

    The Lone
    Chili Pepper

    Alone it stands braving the winds,
    A lone chili pepper on the stalks
    Spicy red, shiny and new, it clings,
    A breathtaking sight as one walks

    Tingling sensation to the nose it brings,
    A peppery feeling deep inside,
    The air is clean and new shoots; springs,
    One wonders if anything can grow beside.

    For long and as far, as the eyes can see,
    Small in height and dense green bushes,
    That lone chili pepper it stands to be,
    As the leaves rustle while the wind rushes

    A nearby brook it lilts and pauses,
    A few raindrops flitting above,
    From amongst the clouds, seems to cause,
    An operetta synchronized "Earth in Love".


    April 18th 2012
    Harweel Site


    Beauty
    Un-Defined

    Red as the bloodiest blood,
    Dark as the darkest red
    Passionately made with lots of love,
    This rose seems from head to toe.

    Crisp and fresh, gentle to touch,
    Smell enveloping in the ethereal mist
    With even time it will wither as such,
    My feelings for it, a very long list

    Precious though feeble, on a stalk it stands,
    Leaves glorify the beauty without a doubt
    To God the almighty, I clap my hands,
    This flower he created without a clout.

    The smell it gives is so pleasantly sweet,
    Even Cleopatra romanced from deep within
    Romancing the soul with it is neat,
    And more than cleansing, souls it does soothen.


    April 19th 2012
    Harweel Site


    Windmill of the Gods

    Lonely as it stood the lone windmill,
    The setting sun causing a silhouette,
    No motion, No wind, a cause to worry still,
    The rain does sometimes make it real wet.

    Does it matter to the lonely wheel?
    It turned long ago once upon a time,
    What do you think it would feel?
    The waves hitting it and now there is slime.

    Life's moments can never stand still,
    But as I looked upon from my perch,
    It looked scintillating from that hill,
    A large valley, a whole great stretch

    Mountains on either side of a river valley,
    Grass lands stretching far and wide,
    And life does seem to go on slowly,
    The windmill straining to even turn a tide

    It wants to, it wants to, but it can't,
    The joints are creaky, cranky and all rusty,
    The control house below is breaking, it's on a slant,
    It's declared as a windmill long lost and untrusty.


    February Seventeenth, 2012
    My First Picture Poem after being encouraged by
    Dr. Sangita Parmekar Devarapalli


    Water of Life

    A spring time's rhapsody should never end,
    Warmth of the summer sun is full of fun,
    Beaches are wet, and land always does lend,
    The mystery of life brings dew drops by a ton.

    Fresh and vivacious, filled with life,
    Dew drops they shine in the morning sun
    The slow moving breeze, dislodges it nice,
    In slow rhythmic steps it blesses mother earth.

    Kisses her, lulls her, moves down below,
    The dew drops do every single life form stir,
    Gods own creation, a sustenance of love,
    A feast for the eyes, as beautiful as a pearl


    April 18th 2012
    Harweel Site


    Surfing
    the Tube

    The sea it roars with a tumultuous surge,
    Packed with the power, a tremendous force,
    Huge amounts of water in fury it does splurge,
    And for a surfer it creates a thrilling cause

    A tube it forms in a wave of water,
    The surfer moves in fast and unfazed.
    A mistake and his hopes will all splatter
    The onlookers look on real amazed.

    A beautiful tube of colourful water,
    Blue skywards, green seawards,
    But for the surfer it does not matter,
    Finally he only deserves a platter of words.


    April 19th 2012
    Harweel Site


    God's World

    I stand by the window sill,
    Looking at the streets below
    Silent streets, the wind is still,
    And in sight not a single fellow.

    The air is crisp, its early morn'
    The sun is still in – inside the womb.
    No wonder the streets all stand, forlorn,
    The ghosts are still – inside their tomb.

    The night is gone; but, deathly quiet,
    The birds are rising; they know it's coming.
    A lone chirrup, in the stillness of night,
    Far in the horizon, a thin line shimmering.

    A new day has come, the sun's now up,
    Dew on the leaves, of the previous nightfall
    The fully dried pods are now cracking up
    Insects clinging to the leaves are in a slow crawl.

    The rustle of the leaves, brushing of the branches,
    The winds picking speed, music's in the air.
    Coordinated orchestrations, bringing mixed emotions,
    Music seems to be coming from god's own lair.


    April 18th 2012
    Harweel Site


    Azalea

    The precious brazened stalks; with,
    Shades of crimson from the setting sun
    Encased in a soft petally world, as we walk,
    The grass is green and fresh to everyone.

    Looking upwards, skywards the buds they bloom,
    Soft as ivory and scented from god's lair,
    The stalks and stamens stand like plumes,
    Pollens ready to disburse in the air.

    Leaves always in numbers of eight,
    The flowers also in a beautiful shade,
    Soft to look and a feeling of warmth,
    Praise the lord for another beauty made.

    Feelings of love appears as we see them blossom,
    Nascent thoughts embrace the air around,
    The heart it croons, and the feeling is awesome,
    Thoughts of friends do me surround.


    18th August 2012
    Harweel Site


    Firefly

    I wish to fly in the morn,
    But God made me a strange one.
    He gave me a glowing bum,
    And a promise that I never will fly in the sun


    March 11th 2012,
    Harweel Site


    Beautiful
    Morning

    I wake up this morn,
    In the fields I see cobs of corn.
    Yellow and beautiful they sway with fun,
    They seem as beautiful as the morning sun.


    March 6th, 2012
    Harweel Site


    Mirage

    As I drove down the long stretch,
    With the sandy soil dissipating heat,
    Up ahead in the distance along the sandy ledge,
    One could see the reflections real sleek


    February 16th 2012
    On the Way to Salalah


    INTROSPECTION


    An Accident

    I slipped, I fell, and I broke a toe,
    I really wonder if you would ever know,
    I fell from the roof, in a moment of fear,
    In that process I had a frigging mighty tear.

    The knees got scraped, my clothes all tore,
    I felt the wind blow my face inside out.
    Someone called, and the ambulance came,
    The burning of rubber it hit my face.

    Out came a stretcher and they hauled me in,
    It felt in life as if I committed a sin.
    The screamer was on; it raced on the streets,
    The doors felt loose, the joints creaked,
    Felt as if the master of hell was really near.


    19th January, 2012
    On the way back to office in the bus from Rabab Vessel
    Harweel Site


    Piping Hot

    Fresh from the oven, piping rich taste,
    The top baked brown, heavenly rich smell.
    Twitching noses, everyone in a real haste,
    Mother has marked a line, so does one tell.

    Chocolate or cream, a treat to get,
    I would love always, my fingers to lick.
    I love every one of them and never fret,
    A doctor at that, with love, an anesthetic

    What a profession wonderful with solace,
    Morphinated and painlessness, one can tell,
    A wonderful one, inducing peace,
    Before anyone can start, she rings the bell.

    She has to start and she has to finish,
    Keep the patient alive and kicking,
    Life for her can never diminish
    And people around are always snickering.


    April 18th 2012
    Harweel Site
    Poem is dedicated to Dr. Sangeeta Parmekar Devarapalli


    Ecstasy – II (A)

    Surreal though but Ethereal,
    Blessed in holiness the waters cleanse,
    The world around her very real,
    Thoughts in her mind very pleased.

    Ripples created by the splashing touch,
    Cleansing body and soul alike,
    The cloth clinging effervescently as such,
    Creating an artistic painting of life.

    A life like image that the artist saw,
    Temple bells ringing, sounding aloud.
    A sparrow nearby cleaning its claw,
    While the chants of prayers getting aloud.

    The artist, he sat on a high perch,
    Shrouded in a cloth below the banyan tree.
    He sat unnoticed on a lurch,
    Observing if not all atleast three.

    The saint was on a continuous chant,
    The lady wet with a fervour glow,
    The sparrows on a chirruping rant,
    Monolithic, it was and registered very slow.


    15th November 2012
    Harweel Construction Camp – 5B


    Ecstasy – II (B)

    Surreal though but Ethereal,
    Blessed in holiness the waters cleanse,
    The world around her very real,
    Thoughts in her mind very pleased.

    Ripples created by the splash,
    The saints on shore on a monotonous chant,
    Lightening striking in a blinding flash; And,
    The birds around in a chirruping rant.

    Ecstatic moments, they seem to near,
    Draped in a cloth effervescently as such,
    The maiden she stood without any fear,
    Her body and soul cleansed by the touch.

    The waters around her very clear,
    Touched the heart, reverberations of chants,
    Pyres they burnt incessantly near,
    Singed in the heat, the blades burnt.

    The ground around seethingly grey,
    Ash in the sky, with wails around,
    People as they looked on, towards the prey,
    Oblivious she was, to the hues and sound.

    She raised her hands to the skies above,
    When suddenly a shriek, it came from the crowd.
    Aghast we looked, when a tempestous surge,
    A water wall swept her off the ground.

    The lady pulled in by the watery wave,
    The crowd now looked on in ghastly awe,
    Numb struck by shock, they could not save,
    The life that was, now no more there!


    20th November 2012
    Harweel Camp Room Number 5B


(Continues...)

Excerpted from Life Through a Prism by Umasankar. Copyright © 2014 Umasankar. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Table of Contents

Contents

About the Poet, 1,
Overview, 2,
HAND OF GOD,
1 The Lone Chili Pepper, 5,
2 Beauty Un-Defined, 7,
3 Windmill of the Gods, 9,
4 Water of Life, 13,
5 Surfing the Tube, 15,
6 God's World, 17,
7 Azalea, 21,
8 Firefly, 23,
9 Beautiful Morning, 25,
10 Mirage, 27,
INTROSPECTION,
1 An Accident, 31,
2 Piping Hot, 33,
3 Ecstasy – II (A), 35,
4 Ecstasy – II (B), 39,
5 A Dream, 43,
6 Fate, 45,
7 Hope, 49,
8 Song, 51,
NOSTALGIA,
1 Happiness, 55,
2 Amnesia, 57,
3 Furnace, 59,
4 Forest, 61,
5 For the Trainees, 63,
6 An Evening in the College, 65,
7 College Elections, 67,
8 Calcutta, 71,
9 A Lone Fisherman, 73,
10 Outside the Library, 75,
11 Rabab, 77,
12 Sunabeda, 79,
13 Me, 81,
SOLITUDE,
1 Kodachadri, 85,
2 In Solitude, 89,
3 Darkness, 91,
4 Rebirth, 93,
5 Some Passing Thoughts, 95,
6 The First, 99,
7 Thoughts Remembrances Of ..., 101,
8 Vampire, 105,
9 Welcome Address, 107,
REMINISCENCE,
1 An Abstract Form, 111,
2 As I Reminisce, 113,
3 The Portrait, 117,
4 The Maiden, 121,
5 Canvas, 125,
6 Letter to Suresh, 129,
7 Letter to Padma Priya (1), 131,
8 Letter To Padma Priya (2), 133,
9 An Autograph, 135,
10 First Love, 137,
11 In The Conference, 139,
Advance Acclaim for the "Life Through a Prism", 141,

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