When Doubly Foul is the Fair

I sit on a rock and think

What if I fall off the brink!

What if a volcano erupts under

And rends my body asunder

What if all the snow on the Himalayas melts into water

And watery coffin sheets all the earth cover

What if I go to the road

And struck by a vehicle fall 

For any saving help

Before making a call!

What if

My enemies in the office

Surround me, pull me down

What if I am thrown out of the house

Without a roof over my head

What if I lose the little underpaid job I have

And have no food for my children and me!

What if

all the fears that plague me

Fall on my head one day

Will my existence stay?

My “what if worries”

Are not all unfounded

I may be an idealist

Or look like a philosopher

My roots are well grounded

My perceptions are correct and clear

My outer senses and internal powers

Have news that don’t cheer

All around blows stinky air

Where foul is foul,

And doubly foul is the fair!

My foes don’t know

Who behind me stands

He who keeps watch on me

Watches all souls in all lands

No one can tell me to fly away to the mountains

As long as God almighty is my strength

The most loving and kind who maintains

And cares for those who put their trust in Him

Will never allow evil to vanquish His beloved

They may have to suffer for long

In time to the joyous victory they’ll be led

Xavier Bage

Wed, Jan 13, 2016

Distant Yet Near

They are out there scattered

In many lands of the earth

My friends, brothers and sisters all

United by one Father and birth

Reading these words in the net beamed                                                   

Far we are so it seemed

In truth we’re bound in close embrace

Nourished from one and the same hearth

They wave their hands smiling from

Distant France, Holland and Britain

Italy, Germany, Portugal and States

Linked with an invisible chain

Of spirit felt love, concern and care

Willing to support someone and share

Not waiting to be thanked for kindness

Not even for celebrity name to obtain

Though I don’t express it in volumes

Friends dear, you’re close to my heart

I bless you in repeated silent words

Praying for you is my daily part

May the Good and Kind God above

Reward you for your sharing love

Keep you, lead you, shower you with graces

All harms from your life thwart!

Xavier Bage

Sun, January 10, 2016.

                                                                                          

Empty Nests Empty Eyes

The Chatterjee boy wedded the Mukherjee girl

How proud they were!

He was a government officer

She was a successful doctor

His parents were landlords

Her family was an awed name in business

They had right reasons to be proud

She said, I’m proud to have you as my husband

He said I am proud to have you as my wife!

They lived in a palace like mansion

With many rooms and every comfort

It attracted the eyes of all passers-by

It awoke envy in the heart of lookers-on

It was a monumental edifice

The Chatterjees were proud to own.

In due time, a son was born to them

In due time a daughter

How proud they were to be the parents

Of such cute children, fair and fairy faced

They gave them fancy names        

And called them with doting petnames

They loved them, hovered over them

Like flies over Bengal sweets

Gave them everything they needed

And what they didn’t need

They pampered and smothered them

With every toy and teddy sold in the world’s market

and sent them to the best schools

and colleges when the time came

They were proud of their progress

How time flies, they say

The son became a software engineer

And the daughter married a business supername

Soon after her college degree

(She didn’t need to work)

The engineer boy was soon offered

A lucrative opportunity in the US

They had good reasons to be proud

The engineer son sent dollars home

More than their safes could contain

The banks were loaded with the money they owned.

The Chatterjees were proud to be the parents

Of such a successful son.

One fine day, the junior Chatterjee

Came home with a white skinned girl

And declared, “She’s my wife.”

The seniors fell silent but they could do nothing

But accept the day and the damsel fate had brought them

The junior returned to the States

He visited the seniors once again after two years  

 But since that precious day

He hasn’t stepped in his mother country

Last Christmas, I visited the senior Chatterjees

I rang the doorbell

A housemaid opened the door and inquired

Rudely, “What do you want?”

I sat with the old couple for an hour

Their eyes were empty of dreams and pride

The father said, “We don’t want the dollars,

We want our son to be with us

We know, our eyes won’t see him again

Without children the house appears a monster

Opening its wide jaws to bite us.

Can you come to meet us often?

And come with your children!”

My children, they are sixty of them!

“Yes, bring them all!” they said.

 With smiles wide on their wrinkled face.

Xavier Bage

Sat, 9th January 2016.

The Complaint of a Little Bird

Outside my window in the bush

Sweetly sang the little bird

Today and many days in past

The heavenly song I’ve heard

In wee moments before sunrise

That awakes the godly and wise

She has sung to me oftentimes

The little angel with heavenly voice

Her song has accompanied

 My many lone morning praises

When my soul in silent words

Its joys and pains raises

The offering of the dewy flowers

Brought down heaven’s showers

The little singer stood behind me

With folded wings in devotion

This morning she complained

You never write a poem on me

Am I too small a creature, she said

For your poetic eyes to see

You have written songs pleasing

On insects hidden in grass unceasing

Finding beauty even in cursed crawlers

How can’t you appreciate singers like me?

I did hear your hymn, little angel

The song that gave my soul joy divine

Wishing I had your pure spirit and

Praying for your devoted heart to be mine

But me a sinful flesh living among sinners

With a limping language that often falters

Oppressed by depressing limitations

Failed I have, to lift my pen up to write

Xavier Bage

Wed, 6 Jan, 2016

Why Do You Cross My Path so Often?

Bless you O Beauty Bountiful,

Daintily displaying such occult grace

Moving with such melodious rhythm

On the catwalk beyond human race

Why do you cross my path so often?

Is it just by unintended chance?

Or do you wish a message to convey?

To the thinking eyes in askance?

Are you out hunting for a rat

Or foretelling to warn of a mishap?

Are you going to meet a friend

Or sit on a pampering lady’s lap?

Turn to me your blue torch eyes

And say something in musky voice

There are things that can be seen

Only by eyes like yours by choice

Don’t just cross my path like this

In polite silent words, let’s greet

Let’s share our secrets of worlds

That minds of the world don’t meet!

01.01.2016, Friday