Holidays With Mouse

So I bought two big sweet potatoes 

To prepare delicious holiday pie.

Busy with other chores, baking 

Was postponed for sometime.

As I opened the pantry for some food, puzzled 

I was with fallen shreds of potato skins.

The nibble marks were so visible on red skin

Not knowing the cause I simply threw the vegetable.

But that wasn’t the end of story. With bite marks around

Soon other snack bags found its way in trash bin.

On morning of Thanksgiving I opened the pantry

Sitting inside fruit basket the little mouse greeted me.

Shocked I jumped with a scream

The tiny rodent ran up and down the hall.

From room to room it gave me an exhausting chase, finally

The scared mouse took shelter in attic and I slumped on bed

Now shopping for a mouse trap is 

On my special winter list project.

Good-news! 

Mouse has been caught!

Holiday cheers to all!

Dec. 24th 2017

Chaperon Of My Lost Rhymes!

O! Muse! which one of you 

Should I invoke as my aid?

In which land, to what place

Should I go in search of inspiration?

She who leaves me at her whim

Like she never is my acquaintance 

Making me wonder

Is she ever mine to begin with!

In those playful moments when she

Lingers around me; I hold her so close 

Not wanting to let her go

But she disappears taking 

My thoughts and words with her

And buries them underground

In places of deep, dark, and 

Of depth unknown.

Again she emerges to float around

In blue sky among cottony clouds

Wanders around hills and vales

Chirps like a bird hidden in green leaves

Holding unsung melodies beyond my reach.

From my window I watch her

Cracking a laughter with sunshine

Conversing with bees buzzing on flowers

The big catalpa tree stands amused

Wide eyed yellow leafed 

Chaperon of my lost rhymes!

Halloween Memories

All my memories 

Wander like kite beneath

autumn’s blue sky.              

It is five p.m.

One more hour and kids will

Be knocking the door.

Young ones start first 

they have to be in bed soon

Just enough time to gulp

One candy and wipe that

Halloween make up

Later come the older ones.

In groups they come and

Cross many neighborhoods to

hunt for yearly treats.

I still remember 

first Halloween eons back.

The doorbell rang

A boy was dressed strange

Trick or treat he said. Puzzled

I said what is that!

Seeing my outfit 

And foreign looking face, 

word a without he left.

Door bell rang again

Before I could figure out

A child and lady 

Were standing by the door.

She explained the festival

And child asked for treats.

Of course I had no candy!

Kindly she suggested 

To gather up some change 

And pass a dime 

Or two as a trick or treat.

That was forty eight years back!

In those days change was plenty 

We had no credit card and a dime 

Would buy a big candy bar!

Many a Halloween moons 

Have passed since then.

I too have adopted the festival

And joined in the fun.

Walked with my young ones

Till they were old enough 

To scrounge it all alone.

My little ones have grown 

But others have been born.

I still buy and pass candies

Cause kids and their festivals

We all need to cherish.

Happy Halloween

10. 31. 2017

Social Dimensions

Who ever said 

Two is company 

Three is a crowd 

Simply didn’t experience life 

To its fullest!

Two is lonesome

Three is fun 

One is content.

Winter Afternoon

In snow-covered backyard, garden is without bloom

Lonely is my heart and silence pervades the room.

Wind is forgetful today

Who is to knock on door? 

Lost in their own thoughts

Frugal is leaves’ communication.

Time is in prison today, hourglass broken

Bird is caged in here, no emotions hearken.

Hearth is cluttered

And fire burned out.

Dancing shadows of yonder land

Upon television zoom.

But fail to breathe life

In dead-still room.

Yet the crisp cool richness of afternoon

Invites me calmly-

Come! bathe in my hue for once

‘Cause I am part of your life.

A Wicked Boy’s Plight On Halloween Night!

Few little boys played happily with the ball.

An old mean boy kicked the ball high in air,

The ball got stuck in palm’s thick green hair.

A woodpecker flew to poke a hole in ball.

She filled it up with grass to make a lair 

For winter a warm nest she prepared.

Rain drops slipped from ball’s slick skin

Her chicks were safe too from windy blare.

The boy spiteful brought a ladder to climb

On to one of the long tree branch he held

The hatchlings were fearful and distressed 

For his cruel intention was to rumple the nest.

It was the evening for Halloween trick or treats!

Witches and goblins were flying above streets!

One of them kicked the ladder down with heels!

This left the wicked boy hanging from the tree!

Helpless to slide on ground or hoist up the nest!

His boisterous howls were drowned in darkness!

Nobody heard his sorrowful plight on that night!

For all thought he was doing the Halloween tricks!

Random thoughts 41,42, 43,44

Random Thought 41 (placing A Trust On Ideology)

Betting on an Ideology is 

Like betting on a race horse!

Its loss leaves you in mourning.

Angry, frustrated and speechless!

Random Thought 42 (On Contemplation)

Some time I want to exhaust myself

With drudgery and tell the thinking

Mind to shut up and go to hell!

Random Thought 43 (On Being A Poet)

I cringe a little

On being called a poet

For all these poems!

Random Thought 44 (God’s Instructions)

I am sure when God made this world

His instructions were-

You may live your life inquiring 

How Universe was made

But don’t question why!

Baboon's Dream

Once there was a Baboon.

His name was Balloon.

He saw a balloon flying 

And said to himself,

'My name is Balloon

I will fly above the lagoon'.

He climbed on a tree,

Raised his hands,

Bent his knees

And flew like a bee.

But instead of flying

With a thump he fell 

Moaning and crying.

His ma and pa came on searching

And found him gloating

With the thought of floating.

When spring was in air,

Ma and Pa took him to fair.

They put him in the basket

Fastened with balloon in the market.

The owner took him to Balloon festival

They both flew high above the carnival.

Baboon was happy and singing

When he heard the bell ringing.

Just then

Ma came down to wake him up

He was getting late for school bus.

Savita Tyagi

Note: The above poem is published in children's anthology book. Below is the link. 

Let's Laugh Together: *Poems for Children* Poets Unite Worldwide

Jun 17, 2017

By Fabrizio Frosini

A Bed Of Flowers

An abandoned spiderweb

Survived the onslaught of

Winter's ice and snow.

The spring came and filled 

The spider web with tiny flowers

Shredded from the bush above.

A tiny insect now enjoys 

The comfort of a soft white bed! 

A tantalizing feast for eyes!

Poetry's Call

Poetry! Its mysterious call

Am I destined to accept?

Is it her force or my will?

Who knows?

Halfway through it disappears!

Frustrated I too withdraw.

Let it ring! Ignore the sales pitch!

Let it dwell in deep caverns of mind!

How peaceful!

No body is there now!

Wait!

Who is tiptoeing in my dreams?

That enigmatic whisper!

Its vibrating echoes!

Badgering of that unanswered call

Lingers on!

Oh! I feel lost!

There is an ocean of joy there.

Why did I not answer?

Afraid of deep dives?

Perhaps!

So much easy to sit on shore!

Watch others play!

Let game of life shift to other players!

Well may be I could wet my feet a little!

Of course! A lost child needs to return 

To the loving embrace of mother!

It is the elixir of a poet’s life! 

Acknowledge the adhesive!

It holds the self together!

Accept the call! However clumsy you are!

Random Thought 40 (Saint And Crook)

A saint will not hurt you.

His company will give 

You pleasure and peace.

But be aware of crooks

They are the ones who 

Will gobble up your fruits,

Cheat on your labor so fast

For seeds and for all 

And you won’t even know it!

However hardest to deal with are the 

Crooks walking by you in attire of saints!

Be aware! Be aware! Be aware of them!

Talk Less Connect Deep! Random Thought 39

Every thought of mine

Should I record it!

Every thought of yours 

Should I read it!

There is something deeper
Than words that connects
A reader and a writer.

Some time I would rather

Let it all rest.

Let my existence become

A thought invisible
Yet connecting!

Like an uncut diamond 

Encased in deep dark caves 

Holding potentiality

Of dazzling beauty!

Waiting for diamond cutter

To fashion it all!

6.24.2017

How She Got Her Washing Machine!

When computer tries to read your mind

And words are changed by auto checks 

Be careful for what may be lurking behind.

She writes to Westin to book a room

Auto spell changes it to Westinghouse!

Two days later-

She finds a washing machine at her door

Her holiday plans are now doomed. 

Away

Some day when I am alone

Living in the world of 

My own making

And you pass by me-

Just give a nod and a smile.

And when you walk away 

Leave a thought of yours

To mingle with mine

Know that I move now

In dimensions

Different than yours.

Savita Tyagi

6. 2. 2017

Dragon's Mouth

This earth is a celestial gift of amazing notion.

Here the exotic birds chirp in green meadows,

And frothy waves dance in blue oceans.

Fog and floating clouds shroud

Its snow covered mountain house.

Their mystical silence so arresting,

It chains the mind into a quiet standing.

Here life sings its sweet and sour hymns. 

In its lap we breath, sleep and conjugate.

Yet what a sinister offspring we have become.

In its heart we have thrust a dagger deep.

We are a monster child wrapped in greed

Sucking life blood of its mother's breast.

Its lush green forests are becoming a graveyard 

Of dead trees and an ecological disaster for rest.

Its waters we have polluted with chemicals.

Smoke filled chimneys spew our black hatred.                                              

Plastic, carcinogens and poisonous gases

Fill our land with filth to tarnish its acreage.

Its grace is crushed under sky rise buildings.

From the smog filled sulfurous sky,

Sun's ultraviolet rays pouring through the

Broken shields of ozone, send us chilling vibes.

Our Mother Earth is sending us very clear signals.

We need to understand its angry outbursts.

Those falling glaciers are flooding land and oceans.

Chemical discharge is scaring pristine rivers' bosom.

Oil and coal polluted ether is changing earth

In a super heated dragon's mouth of leaping flames. 

Pushed to the edge it would burn and devour us alive.

Our beautiful planet is in grave danger and we are to blame.

Savita Tyagi

The above poem was written for the poetry Anthology book " Our Only World: Poetry for Planet Earth."

Our Only World: Poetry for Planet Earth (Poetry of Witness Book 5)

Apr 27, 2017

by Fabrizio Frosini and Pamela Sinicrope

For My Mother

When ever I think of writing 

Anything about my mother

I find the task overwhelming. 

Some emotions are beyond expression. 

How distant the memory of her feels.

Yet as fresh as rose petals 

Washed in spring rain.

Her footsteps are soft 

As she enters my heart,

Leaves a faint soft touch

And disappears

As unceremoniously 

As it first appeared. 

Alone I am left to recall her again

Or let it recede in sea of thoughts.

It is the color of her love

That never fades

It is the miracle of her love

That I pass on to my children.

Haiku 21 (Tornado)

Vicious clouds gather
A dark funnel spirals down
Thunder roars death kneel.

Haiku 17, 18, 19, 20, (Summer Series)

Haiku 17

cows chew on dry grass
nothingness sinks deep in sky
cowboy plays on flute.

Haiku 18

red bird hops on vine
Johnny Cash on radio
soda and root beer.

Haiku 19

tall corn stalks by road
Noam Chomsky on iPhone
Fast movement of cars.

Haiku 20

Orange sun burns earth
grey sky sends mind in stupor
Spider weaves the web.

Haiku 16 (Flowers)

Pink hydrangeas bloom
Cluster of tiny flowers
Spider on petals.

Poetry And Language (senryu series)

Poetry is not 

About perfection but

About expression.    

A language is 

Using a correct method

For expression.  

A linguist strives

For perfection in method

Of expression  

Just like mind seeks

To work with reason

And heart with love  

to heart

Connects the poetry

and mind to language

In that unity 

Lies the harmony for

Mind, body and soul. 

A New Flower

Upon the grave of old 

A new flower blooms.

Sadly it never knew the 

Loving nurturing soil of a home.

The Gardner sleeping in the grave 

Left the plant alone.

Yet it blooms to add its beauty to the grave.

The rising sun gives it warmth,

The rain nourishes the plant,

And the protective wind keeps it in her watch.

Fighting against all odds of life

With her nature given might

The  tiny flower blooms 

Upon the grave of the old.

Now it wishes to be plucked 

To be part of a bouquet.

Would someone make it part of a lovely arrangement.

Or is it his fate to wither alone?

To be perished upon the grave of the old!

3. 9. 2017

Dedicated to the children of the world, left alone through war and other calamities.

An Ode To A Doll Maker

Once I saw a little girl playing with a dancer doll.     

Her outfit was embroidered with the silk and silver yarn,     

And decorated carefully with gold beads and sequins.

Her scarf was as wavy and transparent as a clear mountain stream.    

Colorful tinsels were braided in her black hair.

Her bow like brow and nectar dripping lips,      

Her slender waste and round sensuous breast,    

Were perhaps an accomplice to its maker's own sensuality. 

O! Doll maker! amazing is your skill to replicate 

The curves and contours of Nature's stunning creations.

The artistic hands of yours take the raw material and 

Set it into the exquisite pieces of your imagination. 

An angel in stone seems to fly at your command. 

A figurine  in porcelain sings the high notes of music. 

A Kathakalli dancer comes alive in swirling motions.  

The spirit of Kachina doll has the essence of spiritual force.

A silent history of Universe is depicted in these still forms. 

Like a writer’s verse your doll is just one of a kind.  

Like a poet and his poems, you and your dolls are 

Solace to each other, united in a single expression of love. 

The maker of the doll and the little girl playing with it,

The poet with its poetry and the mesmerized readers-

All are bound to each other with a creative rhythm  

Beating in their hearts, surging in the play of ever changing     

Ever lasting and ever new beauty of art.   

Writer’ Note: Kathakalli is an ancient and popular dance form of India. 

The above poem is part of a poetry anthology book By 
Frosini Group Of Poets 'Poets Unite World Wide'.

Book Title  'An Ode To Arts'- A Note A Word A Brush 

Savitri

Savitri was just a simple woman raising her family in a foreign soil.

I met her few times as our paths crossed over in course of time.

Her husband's severe heart attack was an ill-fated blow upon her.

Miraculously he survived, but only to breathe in a motion less state.

For fifteen years she shared her room with his silent presence.

Rollers of time kept moving and pressed harshly upon her.

She kept doing all that she had to do for her family’s welfare,

To survive and to keep her family together through rough times.

Savitri went back to school to renew her professional career,

Supported her daughter in her dream to become a doctor,

Helped her boys to become strong and self sufficient,

And watched over her grand kids in time of their need.

In her private hours she sat by her husband's bed to tell him

All about family and of her life's happenings, hoping and praying,

That one-day his brain cells would rejuvenate him to active life.

She endured the suffering of the world in her bosom,

Yet a vast ocean of love flowed from her heart.

From the canvas of her life, time's cruel brush strokes 

Could never wipe away her hopes and compassion.

Poised and confident she stood on rocks of love and devotion. 

Knowing her was like knowing the Savitri of ancient legend*.

Not only she carried that revered name with pride and dignity,

But had all the love, strength and wisdom that it is linked with.

To me she is the new age symbol of what a woman stands for.

What she endures and offers and what she nurtures and creates.

Savita Tyagi

Writer’s Note: * the legend of Savitri is contained in the Epic of Mahabharata. She was an epitome of a virtuous woman who by her spirituality and wits brought her husband back to life from the clutches of Yama- The Lord of death. Sri Aurobindo a contemporary poet, yogi and philosopher has written with new symbols an epic poem in English named Savitri. It has given the ancient story a new profound and spiritual meaning. Savitri is a popular name in India for women.

This poem is also part of a poetry anthology book published by Fabrizio Froshini under the banner of a group called 'Poets Unite World Wide'. The name of the book is 'We are all persons' Why Gender Discrimination.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01NBOX3NJ/

Happy New Year

The year two thousand sixteen is about to end

The Crescent moon is peaceful like a baby

Unaware of what goes on around-

Unaware of a new year about to start on earth.

It shines and smiles in his own world not knowing

How it's smiling moonbeams reaching down to millions

Create a festive and peaceful evening upon a quiet home

Away from a loud and boisterous New Year's Eve.

In peace, with heart full of love I welcome

The crescent moon and the cycle of another new year.

Wish all my family, friends and readers a happy Two Thousand Seventeen 

With peace and joy.