Hi Friends,

Even as I launch this today ( my 80th Birthday ), I realize that there is yet so much to say and do.

There is just no time to look back, no time to wonder,"Will anyone read these pages?"

With regards,
Hemen Parekh
27 June 2013

Thursday, 21 January 2021

Simple Sojourn of a Solitary Soul

 

 Simple Sojourn of a Solitary Soul

 

 

 

Sudha is life-partner of good friend ( an ex-colleague ) Girish Trivedi

 

Following is her unique way to imagine what my soul might have felt while penning the poems in my book “RIPPLES “

 

Sudha ,

 

Thanks for taking me on this journey down the Memory Lane ( - which, I was always afraid to take ! )

 

Thanks for bringing into my life, a ray of hope – and a new sense of purpose

 

Many a friend and family member, have “ appreciated “ my poems

 

Some more who click below ( bold ), might like these

 

You are the only one who have “ empathized “  

 

-        Hemenbhai    


     22  Jan  2021

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                                                          RIPPLES

 

Rode on ripples as an eternal quest of joy. Enjoyed waves, waters and winds.

 

With setting of springs and songs of cuckoo, a mighty foe of mankind lurked beneath. Soon thorny headed evil roared like Niagara.

 

Tides of time hid the shadows and laid their misty icy hands making every heart weary.

 

Covid ! now you are here in the dark valleys, slums and multiplexes. Every home is a lonely cloud.

 

But media tells us :

 

we are so near - so far. Is the disease destroyer's master joke ?

 

Or His certain joy without a purpose ?

 

People are dying like autumn leaves.

 

 

The gravedigger of JFK is tired. Gone are voids of spaces. Lack of lilacs on mass graves.

 

Who will cry ? Who will whisper sayonara ?

 

 

Omnipresent death is dancing and unlocking the gates of everlasting premonition.

 

Hour glass is tilted. Even sphinx is stunned

 

Shadow of misery stalks  showing  scars and haunts from Coral Isles to Kanyakumari, from Anand to Urbana, from Powai to Lawrence.

 

 Man is a commodity now.

 

Disease is the master of ceremony, claiming I have no form but variants.

 

Western wind blows on this ancient world. Rays of hope are peeping on the shore of ever changing truth.

 

Instead the Tik20 like, bottles of vaccine move round and round.

 

After all, the monster is  not here forever.

 

Darkness of night will vanish. Human race will be breathing again beneath the sun ,  singing the song of love and life.

 

Corona is not forever. It may be the last storm.

 

Life will again be an everlasting picnic.

 

Only you- the creator of cosmos shall bring ambrosia of health to mother earth. She will rejoice- I am free. 

 

 

Tomorrow is new year day - 2 0 2 1. As a pillion rider of Girish I send my pranam and regards to you and Bharatiben.

 

Sudha

 

31 Dec 2020

 

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