Born to earth they too are
Slaves of this slave
Which dances to the tunes of Angels,
Though makes us humans helpless.
Jernail S. Anand, an eminent poet from India, shares his poetry
Dr. Jernail Singh Anand, based in Chandigarh, is an Indian poet and scholar credited with 170 plus books of English literature, philosophy and spirituality. He won great Serbian Award Charter of Morava and his name adorns the Poets’ Rock in Serbia. He was honored with Seneca Award LAUDIS CHARTA by Academy of Arts & Philosophical Sciences, Bari, Italy 2024. He is Founder President of the International Academy of Ethics and conferred Doctor of Philosophy (Honoris Causa) by University of Engineering & Management, (UEM) Jaipur. Email anandjs55@yahoo.com
Time, the Slave Driver
Who can forget time’s tantrums
How it shapes
And then dis-shapes
It plays truant with wisdom
When passions run high
And when the flood has spent
Circles its tail
And settles in a doggy trance.
What rattles me is
The dual processing of time
How it gives youth its glow
And then quenches
The glimmer blow by blow
A proud mover yet
A slave to the divine scheme
Cannot sidestep its own flow
You can see how helpless it is
Though looks very powerful
It cannot stop for anyone
It cannot take a step backward
Nor can it go fast forward
Does it exist for the sun
Winds and the earth?
It affects only the things
Created on the earth
A tree has a life, so does a flower
So is the case with men,
Born to earth they too are
Slaves of this slave
Which dances to the tunes of Angels,
Though makes us humans helpless.
***
Supermen
Killing a person is a murder
But killing people
In the name of war
Is a justified act.
A man after his death
Received the shock
Of his life
When the earth refused to open
He was taken to cremation ground
Where the wooden logs
Revolted
And fire refused to burn
They took him to a river
The water stood up
Like a god
And said…take away this rot.
At last they took him
Atop a mountain
And left his body
No birds came to feast on him
Soon winds lost their patience
And refused to fight
With primal stench
I am nobody’s slave the sun declared.
They went to Delphi
To know
Why nature had turned
Against this man.
Is ambition a wrong passion?
What if he killed people
Don’t they die!
In famines?
He saw a note
In an Angel’s hand
Thus the text ran,
Are you sure he is a man?
________________
