Here below the oppressive heat On ground parched and cracked In dark and pregnant sheet A thousand clouds above gathered Streaks of lightning signal the vent As thunder roars in rapture With joyous cries they mingle The first drops downwards tumble Fragrance rises from bathed earth Sweet balm disperses the fever Mighty revelation like no other This the fertility of the Mother
Hopeless romantic, grounded realist, eternal optimist, brooding pessimist. All these are me. I am all of them, and then some more. Here you will find some of my poetry written between 1985 and 1999, a period when my idealism and abstraction topped the pressures of reality and sustenance.
Being a mother… That path that is sometimes taken, that path that sometimes reaches you, and that you, even as a companion, always walks. That road full of efforts of pains and struggles but pregnant with joys, with teachings. That
The Mother Mother is bestowed with all heavenly qualities From beginning till end she remains at stake She is a shelter in severe summer like the trees God gifted style makes mother never to shake Mother is emblem of God
Somehow I simply can’t forget The first time that i met her A little glimpses from the window pane On the special day of your first born A single call from your little one What changed everything upside down A
HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY Intelligent man says, I feel it is a special day It is not my birthday It is mother’s day When our daughter came to bring us happiness, I felt it, A special day Children truly excited to
Swamy consented to give interview to an Australian team of six men None of them expected such a stunning miracle that awaited, then Swamy outlined at the outset oscillating health of the mother of one of them Who too nodded