Mr Das

Lekhram's LOGO

2006-07-19T03:13:00.000-07:00

ORIGINAL PAINTING

2006-07-18T05:08:00.000-07:00

TEST RUN

2006-07-18T04:53:00.000-07:00

2006-07-18T04:43:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the " Planet Earth "

We all came to this world interesting,
For a purpose to realise our Creator.
He dwells within our hearts, a light scintillating,
Only a handful believes in this Great Actor.

Though our planet looks fascinating,
It's only a temporary domain.
We'll leave it one day laughing or crying,
Needless to say it's a dream again.

Everything here belongs to Him,
We are only a custodian.
Playing a great role in His gym,
And not enjoying a vacation.

As life is a preparation to realise Him,
To merge in Him as rivers do to the ocean.
Let's cerenade our True Father with a Hym,
To be embraced as His worthy children.

Cycle of birth and death will remain intact,
Till He stops the great revolving wheel.
We'll all have to accept one day the fact,
That only Thy will be done never mind our will.

Lekhram

The sound

2006-07-12T04:35:00.000-07:00

A poem on "Sounds"

Great is the sound of music
it soothes the mind
Especially when one is sick
It's so gentle and kind.

There are five senses in our body
Sense of taste is the strongest one
We the survival of the fittest use it daily
Ignoring the rest as if there was none.


The ears has to hear any sound
Whether it be big or small
This organ is ovalshaped not round
The eardrum puts up with it all.

the world came into existance with an enormous bang
What was its importance I still don't understand

There are many people born deaf
The sound means nothing to them
Can't hear even a rattling leaf
How can they hear my poem.

They will hear with their teeth they can
I know it sounds so strange an act
If they bite a switched on radio or a fan
Try it yourself it's a fact.

Ears are tested to hear perfectly
It's important to the musicians
Each note must sound correctly
Or you're sent to the phisicians.

Of its soothing sound music is a boon
Listening to it with closed eyes
Or contemplating the full moon
Among the stars in the clear skies.

There are various sounds in the world we live in
soothing is the village church bell when ringing
There exist sounds in our body within
Plug your ears and listen first thing in the morning.

The sound of an orchestral music at lunch time
Or when one is tired can't think but only wonders
Sit with a pint of lager and lime
Or watch the TV with all its blunders.

The sweet voices of children are music to the ears
Often noticed by the loving parents
Even when they cry with big tears
We love them hug them and bless them with presents.

Lekhram.

The Sound

2006-07-12T03:58:00.000-07:00

A poem on "Sounds"

Great is the sound of music
it soothes the mind
Especially when one is sick
It's so gentle and kind.

There are five senses in our body
Sense of taste is the strongest one
We the survival of the fittest use it daily
Ignoring the rest as if there was none.


The ears has to hear any sound
Whether it be big or small
This organ is ovalshaped not round
The eardrum puts up with it all.

the world came into existance with an enormous bang
What was its importance I still don't understand

There are many people born deaf
The sound means nothing to them
Can't hear even a rattling leaf
How can they hear my poem.

They will hear with their teeth they can
I know it sounds so strange an act
If they bite a switched on radio or a fan
Try it yourself it's a fact.

Ears are tested to hear perfectly
It's important to the musicians
Each note must sound correctly
Or you're sent to the phisicians.

Of its soothing sound music is a boon
Listening to it with closed eyes
Or contemplating the full moon
Among the stars in the clear skies.

There are various sounds in the world we live in
soothing is the village church bell when ringing
There exist sounds in our body within
Plug your ears and listen first thing in the morning.

The sound of an orchestral music at lunch time
Or when one is tired can't think but only wonders
Sit with a pint of lager and lime
Or watch the TV with all its blunders.

The sweet voices of children are music to the ears
Often noticed by the loving parents
Even when they cry with big tears
We love them hug them and bless them with presents.

Lekhram.

Sea Creatures

2006-07-12T03:42:00.000-07:00

A to Z Poem

A stands for Anne,
 She went to Spain to get a suntan.

B stands for Brown,
 The Deputy Prime Minister in trouble all year round.

C stands for Clair,
 Your Excellency in the high chair.

D stands for David,
 Who thinks Tonny Blair is not stupid.

E stands for Elthea,
 With a broad smile like Farrow Mia.

F stands ror Fabian,
 She is a lass from the Carribian.

G stands for Gawn,
 I've known her since Judy was born.

H stands for Harry,
 Who can't make up his mind when to marry.

I stands for Ian,
 In the marathon, he ran and ran and ran.

J stands for Jason,
 He is alert now and learnt his lesson.

K stands for Krishna,
 The Indian God whom loves Kathrina.

L stands for Lekhram,
 He will write anything and doesn't give a damn.

M stands for Mauritius,
 A tourist paradise, happy and glorious.

N stands for Newzealand,
 Not new anymore but as beautiful as Switzerland.

O stands for Oliver,
 The comedian well known as a mad driver.

P stands for Patrick,
 He talks very fast without panic without a trick.

Q stands for Queenie,
 Diana was one day going to be but now she's a pony.

R stands for Rick,
 A computer genius uses no memory stick.

S stands for Stanley,
 Another comedian Who makes you giggle badly.

T sands for Troy,
 He is very quiet, very shy and coy.

U stands for Ursula,
 A rare name, not heard often as the beutiful Paula.

V stands for Verra,
 If she goes to Italy, must know what is a lira.

W stands for William,
 Who will one day inherit Sandringham.

X Stands for Xavier,
 This is a rare name of the saint saviour.

Y stands for Yule,
 The famous actor who cared to follow no rule.

Z stands for zips,
 It's high time I zipped this poem as well as my lips.

Lekhram.

A to Z Poem

2006-07-12T03:38:00.000-07:00

A to Z Poem

A stands for Anne,
 She went to Spain to get a suntan.

B stands for Brown,
 The Deputy Prime Minister in trouble all year round.

C stands for Clair,
 Your Excellency in the high chair.

D stands for David,
 Who thinks Tonny Blair is not stupid.

E stands for Elthea,
 With a broad smile like Farrow Mia.

F stands ror Fabian,
 She is a lass from the Carribian.

G stands for Gawn,
 I've known her since Judy was born.

H stands for Harry,
 Who can't make up his mind when to marry.

I stands for Ian,
 In the marathon, he ran and ran and ran.

J stands for Jason,
 He is alert now and learnt his lesson.

K stands for Krishna,
 The Indian God whom loves Kathrina.

L stands for Lekhram,
 He will write anything and doesn't give a damn.

M stands for Mauritius,
 A tourist paradise, happy and glorious.

N stands for Newzealand,
 Not new anymore but as beautiful as Switzerland.

O stands for Oliver,
 The comedian well known as a mad driver.

P stands for Patrick,
 He talks very fast without panic without a trick.

Q stands for Queenie,
 Diana was one day going to be but now she's a pony.

R stands for Rick,
 A computer genius uses no memory stick.

S stands for Stanley,
 Another comedian Who makes you giggle badly.

T sands for Troy,
 He is very quiet, very shy and coy.

U stands for Ursula,
 A rare name, not heard often as the beutiful Paula.

V stands for Verra,
 If she goes to Italy, must know what is a lira.

W stands for William,
 Who will one day inherit Sandringham.

X Stands for Xavier,
 This is a rare name of the saint saviour.

Y stands for Yule,
 The famous actor who cared to follow no rule.

Z stands for zips,
 It's high time I zipped this poem as well as my lips.

Lekhram.

The Full Moon

2006-07-12T03:29:00.000-07:00

East Croydon Station 1962

Trains, stopping trains and express trains,
Giong to and fro even as it rains.

Occasionally stopping here and there briefly,
And to this busy place as is just seen rightly.

Cars, busses and lorries as if crushed together,
Weary looking people and exausted in all weather.

Rushing about at the station like mad,
An old man,an old woman, a lass and a lad.

Worried faces of commuters, tired and dreamy,
Some fresh, some bewildered some drunk some barmy.

Yet others smiling and are full of joy,
Like the innocent children shy and coy.

A busy shopkeeper like a hard toiling bee,
Serving customers standing in the queue like me.

Time to toil hard and make the most of it,
And seize the golden opportunity and don't just sit.

To the busy pubs as long as the travellers are here,
They badly need your freshly brewed beer.

I too travel but only on stopping trains,
And manage to write a letter or two to my friends.

Both sitting on the carriage and leaving to go,
I finish the letter while walking to and fro.

A friend replies who can picture me walking like mad,
Holding in my hand a pen and a writing pad.

I work nearby in a soft drink factory,
A real mad place looking like a huge groggery.

Never saw so many people assembled together,
Walking, shouting and giggling to each other.

Busier and still going strong as it were needless to say,
This is East Croydon Station in the rich land of Surrey.

Very much attached then with East Croydon,
And now living in the maze of crowded London.

Forty years later, while writing about it now,
I see East Ccoydon Station as fresh in my mind.
Where I lived and worked and cared to bow,
As it is the one and only of its kind.

Lekhram.

East Croydon Station 1962

2006-07-12T03:23:00.000-07:00

East Croydon Station 1962

Trains, stopping trains and express trains,
Giong to and fro even as it rains.

Occasionally stopping here and there briefly,
And to this busy place as is just seen rightly.

Cars, busses and lorries as if crushed together,
Weary looking people and exausted in all weather.

Rushing about at the station like mad,
An old man,an old woman, a lass and a lad.

Worried faces of commuters, tired and dreamy,
Some fresh, some bewildered some drunk some barmy.

Yet others smiling and are full of joy,
Like the innocent children shy and coy.

A busy shopkeeper like a hard toiling bee,
Serving customers standing in the queue like me.

Time to toil hard and make the most of it,
And seize the golden opportunity and don't just sit.

To the busy pubs as long as the travellers are here,
They badly need your freshly brewed beer.

I too travel but only on stopping trains,
And manage to write a letter or two to my friends.

Both sitting on the carriage and leaving to go,
I finish the letter while walking to and fro.

A friend replies who can picture me walking like mad,
Holding in my hand a pen and a writing pad.

I work nearby in a soft drink factory,
A real mad place looking like a huge groggery.

Never saw so many people assembled together,
Walking, shouting and giggling to each other.

Busier and still going strong as it were needless to say,
This is East Croydon Station in the rich land of Surrey.

Very much attached then with East Croydon,
And now living in the maze of crowded London.

Forty years later, while writing about it now,
I see East Ccoydon Station as fresh in my mind.
Where I lived and worked and cared to bow,
As it is the one and only of its kind.

Lekhram.

Seaweed

2006-07-12T03:15:00.000-07:00

Seaweed


I'm Rushing to the seaside,
Hastily with a long stride.

Expecting to collect some seaweed,
And make a salad and eat it, indeed.

They say it's good for your health,
And health is in fact our real wealth.

Eat seaweed mixed with a vegetable,
And benefit it's good quality, it's not a fable.

Seaweed and vegetable go together,
They are not different from one another.

Seaweed is full of taste without salt,
Just ready to mix with the malt.

Vegetables need salt and vinegar,
Seaweed is pure and easy to cater.

Seaweed and vegetable are in harmony,
As a couple, new to matrimony.

Lekhram.

My Old Ford Cortina

2006-07-12T03:08:00.000-07:00

My old Ford Cortina MK2

I start this poem with once upon a time
I bought my first car an old Cortina,
I would take it to the pub for a gin and lime
With my old struggle whose name was Catrina.

Iwould park the vehicle nearby
Where therewas a spacy car park,
And all the birds would come fly
Among whom there was a sky-lark.

A robber came and took the car away
As it was the easiest car to be stolen,
While we were drinking and got carried away
Oblivious of what was going to happen.

A day later when I was walking casually
I found a car similar to mine,
As I came closer to it gradually
It was my own car parked on the yellow line.

I jumped into it and started the old Ford
It went like a rocket when I tried,
I gave it a long run and thanked the Lord
But my expensive tools were missing and I cried.

All the other contents went too that made me sad
I'll have to buy all again I roared like a lion,
They were valuable items given to me by my dad
Whom I always admired as he was one in a million.

I promptly installed a cut-out switch
So that it cannot be driven away,
I should have done that without any hitch
But it occurred to me only yesterday.

The car's numberplate had a name ROY
So it had more value than the vehicle,
I sold the plate separately and jumped with joy
And thought what happened was a miracle.

Then I never dared to buy another Ford
So I purchased a beautiful Peogeot 309,
Guess what I did somewhere near the dash bord
Fitted a cut-out switch that you will never find.

Rictameter Sunrays

2006-07-12T02:53:00.000-07:00

Rictameter

Sunrays
Striking on me
As a hot beam indeed
Keeping me fit in summer time
No one thinks of sunrays as I do,but
My friend, it is a health tonic.
When you think of it then,
It works wonders
Sunrays.

Under The Lamp-Shade

2006-07-11T07:28:00.000-07:00

Under the Lamp Shade

Sitting under the lamp shade

With a short story book,

Torn and tatty and the form of an oval spade

This is the picture of a lass with a rare look.

A beautiful lady, sitting like a spouse,

With a cup in her hand at dawn.

Looking carefree and at ease in the house,

Behind which is seen a field of corn.

Wearing a large Spanish straw hat,

Perhaps she is going out swearing and cursing.

Or it could be a tit for a tat,

As her husband left earlier without warning.

There's no room now for a tell tale,

As is fast approaching doom.

But the husband returns from the dale,

With a huge gift for her bedroom.

Surprisingly happy, she is also hilarious,

Accepting the precious gift from the mountain peaks.

He is equally happy and feeling glorious,

Plants a sweet kiss to her rosy cheeks.

Lekhram

Snow In London 1962

2006-07-11T07:19:00.000-07:00

Snow in London 1962

How lovely the snow is falling,

From the dull and hazy skies.

Like millions of merrily dancing,

Pretty and intoxicated butterflies.

The snow flakes and floats with the wind,

Hardly colliding with one another.

Contemplating, it delights the mind,

And the drunk thirsty eyes both together.

Playing with are the children joyfully,

I wished I were among them in this mood.

But this big childhood coyly and shyly,

Melted away in the day dreaming adulthood.

Mesmerised are my eyes oh bounteous nature!

Still drinking the nectar of your beauty.

How sweetly and gracefully you nurture,

With love and bliss and above all ecstasy.

If life is a dream then this scene is not real,

But the heart is thrilled admiring His creation.

Why the mind has stood still to heal,

The wound caused by His great hallucination.

For hours on end I would watch and admire,

The Creator's play of consciousness.

Merging into Him what else do I desire,

Into the ocean like the river with restlessness.

It's white and white and only white everywhere,

Nothing is so delightful before my sight.

Even the thrilled mind is not aware,

Of its pranks now fixed on the snow so bright.

Snowing had I never seen before,

Only heard its stories with wrapped attention.

Like a child before the sea shore,

Admiring the vast sea and the wonder of creation.

If one wishes to see more in this beautiful world,

One has to live long and wander to wonder.

Life is short and art is long we were told,

So make the most of it , wake up and ponder.

I too expect to see more in this world interesting,

That I never experienced before in my life.

Now I stop this pleasant and amazing snow gazing,

And start playing as it were this words strife.

Ending here, I promise to write more if,

Opportunity strikes again on another page.

This was only a scribble in brief,

And made it short and sweet as goes the adage.

Lekhram.

King Of The Senses

2006-07-11T07:16:00.000-07:00

King of the senses.

Many lifetimes elapsed controlling the mind,

And satisfying the greedy selfish ego.

Precious gift was this human body but blind,

Feeding the senses and drowning in sorrow.

When the master appeared with all his glory,

He burnt all the previous karmas.

His message was "Kneel to yourself not to me"

For this is the highest of all dharmas.

Material world is the shadow of the reality,

How blessed and blissful the next world would be.

Secret will only be revealed when one is worthy

The third eye is then open for yourself to see.

With the new eye to see both here and hereafter,

One must have the great master's compassion.

Who always listens to his disciple's requests,

And grants best fruits to his action.

The Master's touch never goes to waste,

He is the perfect mirror ,your reflexion.

He knows and only he knows the best,

For the very best is the Liberation.

Lekhram.

Holiday

2006-07-11T07:14:00.000-07:00

HOLIDAY

H How beautiful it is to see the snow fall,

O On the ground from the heaven.

L Leaving a blanket of white sheet to us all,

I If one wants to play with like the children.

D Days go by and nights as well,

A As well as the weather similarly,

Y Your holiday time has now rung the ending bell.

And has ended before it started smoothly.

Lekhram

Gloomy Shadows

2006-07-11T07:11:00.000-07:00

Gloomy Shadows

Gloomy shadows sprint across the canal

And I stand still watching them go by.

Tis like dreaming a dream banal

Taken aback of the event in the lay by.

Staring the tall building so high

Almost touching the endless sky.

Staring back at me as if tis alive

Telling me to go home To my own hive.

The sun's going to sleep now casting rare shadows

The birds resting in their nests near the meadows.

Some are Robins, Pigeons and some Sparrows,

Dare not leave their nests while the cold wind blows.

I came to visit the canal and a swimming duck,

Not expecting the sprinting shadows but what a luck.

Tis magic to my mind or the way I'm thinking,

I watch with awe as the dashing shadows go vanishing.

Bounteous Nature never ceases to give generously,

But takes absolutely nothing from us in return.

That's why tis called Mother so dearly,

Who cares for us all and has nothing to mourn.

Gloomy shadows still sprint across the canal,

And I'm still there watching them go by.

Mesmerised but I shall have to go now,

For the beautiful shadows are about to fly.

I still remember when I was a tiny little baby,

My mother would sing to me a sweet lullaby.

Likewise these mysterious shadows now tell me,

"Go to sleep my baby and please don't cry".

I sing now to Mother Nature with love and kindness,

To calm down and cast no more sprinting shadows.

To nurture all with care tis her greatness,

Twas a play of consciousness with mighty blows.

The skyscraper still stares at me in protest,

Sternly staring at me below.

But I must bow down, as I'm smaller and modest,

And I'm afraid tis time for me to go.

The poem on Sprinting Shadows is over,

I can't think of anything else to say.

So I remain now just a rover,

And I shall surely return some other day.

Lekhram.

Colours

2006-07-11T07:00:00.000-07:00

COLOURS

C is for Clair whom I knew at the beauty parlour,

O stands for orange her favourite vibrant colour.

L is for Lucy, she was too proud a maid,

O stands for the orchard she won't go to, she is afraid.

U is for umbrella she has rarely used,

R stands for her Romeo whom she hits with when accused.

S is for the slope of the mountain,

where I'm writing this little piece.

I behold the beautiful fountain,

with wrapped attention and in peace.

Lekhram.

Compassion

2006-07-11T06:16:00.000-07:00

Compassion

I am a person who will not even kill a fly

For I see the His spark in all beings or at least I try.

I hear the music in everything that moves

I feel the touch of the Lord whom everyone loves.

I am His son and He is my real Father

He will surely protect me if I ever falter.

Fire is His tongue, the fire that consumes He meant

It has seven vibrant colours too,

He smells also with the same element

And brings sunshine or rain whichever applies to you.

Never mind about my will, only thy will be done

I’m but a spec of dust in His vast ocean.

The whole universe is His canvas in motion

On which His paintings come as a surprise,

How I admire His unique Exhibition

And salute The Great Painter in disguise.

Hi is the only one without a second

Living in our hearts in His full measure,

How He works we can’t understand

It’s a miracle to only appreciate and treasure.

He blesses all whether a pauper or a king

With the gift of deep sleep to all beings,

He is as swift as the mighty lightening

Where punishment is concerned for wrong doings.

Lekhram

The Sharp End

2006-07-11T05:47:00.000-07:00

The Sharp End

Jayne told me to write a poem,

So I held my pen like a precious gem.

"On what?" I said. "Give me a topic",

"Whatever you like" She said, "except on picnic".

"I'll do it on The Sharp End" I said to Jane,

Where the over fifties come again and again.

So I started scribbling then.

Holding my dribbling fountain pen.

"Don't make a meal out of it," She said

" And as short as possible it should be",

"Space is limited," said the sweet maid,

What else on earth could it be.

I'll carry on with the poem next time,

So I'll start it onother page,

And make sure it will all rhyme

And short and sweet as goes the adage.

The poem that I wrote was tough

I hope you'll like this one too,

I noticed you gave a hearty laugh

While reading line one and two.

This encouraged me to carry on writing

The critics will play a great role in this game,

As they read and keep on criticising

Unknowingly they push me forward just the same.

I'll tell you how I came to the sharp end

You might be willing to know my dear,

It was the old people's activities in the den

That attracted me especially the friendly atmosphere.

I got addicted first to the computers

As noticed by Jon our big Daddy,

Then got fascinated by the scanners

And sat there all day with my tea caddy.

Engrossed so much in it, they remind me to go home

Not even ask me whether I've got one,

They tell me to drag my bed and come

And click all night till the job is done.

Then I could play with the mouse till I'm bored

And tired holding it in my hand

Falling asleep on the complicated keyboard

As an exhausted and confused man in a band.

I thought computers were only made

For office use for young brains to mess about

But if you can run after a mouse comrade

You'll fight this battle and win no doubt.

I thought also computers bite like mad

That's why I stayed away and wondered

Then realised the only byte is the Giga they had

A built in soft ware device that measured.

The computer is my best friend now

I can live with it and have fun and so much to gain

I know more of its know how now,

By the help of Jackie Juliette and Jayne.

The ladies and the big daddy toil very hard

Leaving their loved ones behind

They need a holiday abroad as a reward

To unwind the stress of their tired mind.

I wonder what I'll do without them

If they all take a leave at the same time

Their sweet nature pleasing like a gem

Will haunt me if they don't come back in time.

They are all experts in their own way

Jackie, Juliette Jon and Jayne

Help is always at hand at any time any day

Before one is about to get the cane.

I approached to the sweet lady Jackie

"Tell me about moving images pray"

She happily taught me, I was lucky

Click on format, picture, and layout, tight and ok.

Since then every time I use this device

To be precise of what I'm doing

I just think of her and follow her advice

And the job is done without any time wasting.

Juliet taught me how to save

In the computer for the rainy day

I clicked on "save as" and gave

A name to the file and clicked on ok.

When Jayne is about, I feel confident

As everybody else does by her presence

Busy as a bee yet looking elegant

Admired for her courage and perseverance.

What can I say about our Big Daddy?

He is the king pin of The Sharp End

Without him the place would be empty

He is patient, and flexible in the end.

Everyone likes his sweet nature

He is the only one without a second

He is wise strong above all mature

Knows how to make the computers respond.

I love each one of them they are my wealth

They are all my good friends very dear

May god bless them with good health !

With long lives and a freedom from fear.

Xxxxxxxxxx

On Thursdays I attend to the Art Class

At ten in the morning rush hour I start

Our great teacher is a charming young lass

Pleased to be in her class, she is very smart.

Come you all folks, tis free to join

With Eva, on a canvas learn to paint

She is as beautiful as a newly minted coin

She is helpful and cheerful as a saint.

It's amazing to see the old folks

While working, gossiping and blushing

Equally pleasing to listen to their talks

and struggling ,painting and brushing.

We come to this class to have a good time

Meet each other and exchange our views

Going home happy with the job half done

And expecting a hot drink in the mews.

Life is short Eva says Art is long

That's why tis hard to finish a painting

The first step is difficult but plod along

Either frowning, staring or even fainting.

Carry on folks you are almost there

To meet the great Artist in heaven

You'll be rewarded there do not despair

He'll be proud of you or put you in the Divine prison.

Man is a replica of God they say

So be like Him great and fearless

He needs us for His divine play

For we have a form and He is formless.

He sent us here with form not by chance

To use us as His puppets in the string

We have no choice but to obey Him and dance

To His tune as He wishes to sing

Xxxxxxxxxx

The third activity for me in this busy place

Is to take part in the creative writing

Conducted by an angel who is full of grace

And love and affection in story narrating.

Her name is Frances never cared for name and fame

Is lovingly called Fran for a change

Always overloaded with work tis herself to blame

Not the bosses who know too much in the range.

I always admire an educated person

Especially if it is a sweet lady

Fran no doubt is the one for that reason

To obey her orders we students are forever ready.

To achieve to such an extent and acquire

She must have burnt the midnight oil

Almost setting the whole house on fire

With the austerity she went to toil.

The reason to join the writing group

Was to learn to restart writing

It was as difficult as going to scoop

A million pound in lottery winning.

The first step is always hard

But I was given a helping hand

That brought me no doubt a great reward

That only now I come to understand.

There are two ways to write I mean

The first one is to storm the brain

Keep going till you run out of steam

Or ask the teacher who is eager to train.

When I'm in the class waiting and ready

For the teacher to give me a task

Fascinated by the subjects I know already

Writing becomes easy if you ask

It's necessary to know your vocabulary

Or it will all be a mere dog waffle

When narrating a long and funny story

Which will only sound just like a snake rattle.

Grammar in formal writings plays a great role

Where story telling is going to make sense

Punctuation is necessary on the whole

Or the meaning changes in a long sentence.

One's own effort should be tremendous

If one wants to progress in study

The reward is absolutely miraculous

Then to face the exam you're forever ready.

Fran! You’re not only the mother of your two children

But undoubtedly our great mother too

You care for us when we are ready with our pen

For a tutorial or similar help from you.

After the writing class we go home tired

Often with a seized up brain

Fran gave us courage and always admired

Our homework that never went in vain.

I start cobweb clearance like mad and just go wild

Because nobody will read it not even Fran

It is brainstorming or scribbling like a child

As the first writing has no flash in the pan.

Much can be said about this great lady

Not because she is our revered teacher

She is as busy as the hard toiling bee

Needless to say about her sweet nature.

She says Lekhram! This is an epic of a poem

Don't you have anything else to do as an occupation?

I say Fran! You started the theorem

And I'm only trying to solve the equation.

Xxxxxxxxxx

And now folks last but not the least,

This is the one and only George Burk.

An important man in the list,

A British Who delights like a Turk.

He is an ex-service man nearing ninety

And still drives like a young man

Without wearing glasses, Oh Lord Almighty

Behind the wheel with a beer can.

Six foot tall, well built body like steel,

Best time of his life, as an honest soldier.

Was never afraid to die, but hated to kill,

Came face to face to the enemy a brigadier.

After all a soldier has a heart he is not a slave,

Just like any other human beings that crave.

Why then destroy just to be called brave,

If we are all going one day to the same grave.

George comes to The Sharp End regularly,

As he is a well respected volunteer.

He checks his e-mails and composes scholarly,

Then pays a visit to the local pub for his daily beer.

May God bless you George,

May you live long to your heart's desire.

In our hearts you will always lodge,

Our best friend whom we all admire.

We all came to this world interesting,

For a purpose to realise our Creator.

He dwells within our hearts a light scintillating,

Only a handful believe in this Great Actor.

Cycle of birth and death will remain intact,

Till He stops the great revolving wheel.

We'll all have to accept one day the fact,

That only His will be done never mind our will.

Lekhram

The Full Moon

2006-07-11T04:59:00.000-07:00

The Full Moon

Here is before my very eyes a full moon,

Shining behind the elegant coconut trees.

Its effulgence is no doubt a boon,

To those on the beach saturated in the sea-breeze.

What a beautiful prospect, but to believe it's hard,

When observed with full attention.

Just like a pretty post-card,

Which is viewed with such great admiration.

The full moon is reflected on the sea still and calm,

With its glittering and scintillating brightness.

Oh beautiful one! may you rest on my palm,

For I want to contemplate your unique greatness.

I try to behold your beauty, so I come nearer,

I step into the clear still blue water.

The full moon with all its splendour,

Vanishes in the ripples before my very eyes for ever.

My palms that went to catch the full moon,

In the still waters of the sea, now dream.

And slap in awe my cheeks balloon,

Searching with my thirsty eyes in the full moon beam.

How in such a short time I wonder,

I lost in a flash, in the splash,

The most precious gift of the bounteous Nature,

Alas.....Alas.....Alas.

Lekhram.

A Poem on Sounds

2006-07-11T04:57:00.000-07:00

A poem on "Sounds"

Great is the sound of music

It soothes the mind

Especially when one is sick

It's so gentle and kind.

There are five senses in our body

Sense of taste is the strongest one.

We the survival of the fittest use it daily

Ignoring the rest as if there was none.

The ears has to hear any sound

Whether it be big or small,

This organ is oval shaped not round

The eardrum puts up with it all.

the world came into existence with an enormous bang

What was its importance I still don't understand

There are many people born deaf

The sound means nothing to them,

Can't hear even a rattling leaf

How can they hear my poem.

They will hear with their teeth they can

I know it sounds so strange an act,

If they bite a switched on radio or a fan

Try it yourself it's a fact.

Ears are tested to hear perfectly

It's important to the musicians,

Each note must sound correctly

Or you're sent to the physicians.

Of its soothing sound music is a boon

Listening to it with closed eyes,

While contemplating the full moon

Among the stars in the clear skies.

There are various sounds in the world we live in

soothing is the village church bell when ringing.

There exist sounds in our body within

Plug your ears and listen first thing in the morning.

The sound of an orchestral music at lunch time

Or when one is tired can't think but only wonders,

Sit with a pint of lager and lime

Or watch the TV with all its blunders.

The sweet voices of children are music to the ears

Often noticed by the loving parents,

Even when they cry with big tears

We love them hug them and bless them with presents.

Lekhram

East Croydon Station 1962

2006-07-11T04:55:00.000-07:00

East Croydon Station 1962

Trains, stopping trains and express trains,

Going to and fro even as it rains.

Occasionally stopping here and there briefly,

And to this busy place as is just seen rightly.

Cars, busses and lorries as if crushed together,

Weary looking people and exhausted in all weather.

Rushing about at the station like mad,

An old man, an old woman, a lass and a lad.

Worried faces of commuters, tired and dreamy,

Some fresh, some bewildered some drunk some barmy.

Yet others smiling and are full of joy,

Like the innocent children shy and coy.

A busy shopkeeper like a hard toiling bee,

Serving customers standing in the queue like me.

Time to toil hard and make the most of it,

And seize the golden opportunity and don't just sit.

To the busy pubs as long as the travellers are here,

They badly need your freshly brewed beer.

I too travel but only on stopping trains,

And manage to write a letter or two to my friends.

Both sitting on the carriage and leaving to go,

I finish the letter while walking to and fro.

A friend replies who can picture me walking like mad,

Holding in my hand a pen and a writing pad.

I work nearby in a soft drink factory,

A real mad place looking like a huge groggery.

Never saw so many people assembled together,

Walking, shouting and giggling to each other.

Busier and still going strong as it were needless to say,

This is East Croydon Station in the rich land of Surrey.

Very much attached then with East Croydon,

And now living in the maze of crowded London.

Forty years later, while writing about it now,

I see East Ccoydon Station as fresh in my mind.

Where I lived and worked and cared to bow,

As it is the one and only of its kind.

Lekhram.

A-Z Poem

2006-07-07T06:01:00.000-07:00

A to Z Poem

A stands for Anne,

She went to Spain to get a suntan.

B stands for Brown,

The Deputy Prime Minister in trouble all year round.

C stands for Clair,

Your Excellency in the high chair.

D stands for David,

Who thinks Tony Blair is not stupid.

E stands for Althea,

With a broad smile like Farrow Mia.

F stands for Fabians,

She is a lasso from the Caribbean.

G stands for Gawn,

I've known her since Judy was born.

H stands for Harry,

Who can't make up his mind when to marry.

I stands for Ian,

In the marathon, he ran and ran and ran.

J stands for Jason,

He is alert now and learnt his lesson.

K stands for Krishna,

The Indian God whom loves Katrina.

L stands for Lekhram,

He will write anything and doesn't give a damn.

M stands for Mauritius,

A tourist paradise, happy and glorious.

N stands for New Zealand,

Not new anymore but as beautiful as Switzerland.

O stands for Oliver,

The comedian well known as a mad driver.

P stands for Patrick,

He talks very fast without panic without a trick.

Q stands for Queenie,

Diana was one day going to be but now she's a pony.

R stands for Rick,

A computer genius uses no memory stick.

S stands for Stanley,

Another comedian who makes you giggle badly.

T sands for Troy,

He is very quiet, very shy and coy.

U stands for Ursula,

A rare name, not heard often as the beautiful Paula.

V stands for Vera,

If she goes to Italy, must know what is a lira.

W stands for William,

Who will one day inherit Sandringham.

X Stands for Xavier,

This is a rare name of the saint saviour.

Y stands for Yule,

The famous actor who cared to follow no rule.

Z stands for zips,

It's high time I zipped this poem as well as my lips.

Lekhram.