The Early Morning Sirens

The early morning sirens

Are shrill to somnolent ears

And hit my heart with fists

Memories of a morning dash

Grip my chest mercilessly

This is the way we had taken

A dear child to the hospital

One morn hours ere sunrise!

The vigil through midnight

The wait for the grey light

To call for the ambulance

Getting into the vehicle

Unwashed, unfreshened

Speeding to the hospital

With hearts benumbed with fears

Unspoken grip of unusual feelings

The nurses at the government hospital

Are irritated; their rest disturbed

The night doctor comes yawning

They can’t make it any faster

This is the way they do; you keep quiet

While the child suffers on

The cold emergency cot.

It was after half an hour and more

The child was formally admitted

And assigned a bed in the children’s ward

Mother stayed with the child

I return to make arrangements for

Medicines, food, care shifts

For the mother must come home too

For a wash and a breakfast!

After three days the child returned

Home fine and free of ailment

But the morning ambulance sirens

Still send a gripping shrill down my heart

Many a time those vehicles of care

Return enveloped in silent grief!

Xavier Bage

Thurs, September 28, 2017

My Brave Princess

Who are you, O comely maiden?

Or what are you?

So beautiful to my eyes

So attractive

A fresh flower

A drop of dew

On a green grass.

A poem, my heart whispers

Are you made of words?

Or of voices tender and musical?

I find you a painter sometimes

Drawing reflections

of the beauty of nature

And of feelings of the soul.

But I find you sometimes

in searing anger yet  in sweetness

pulling off masks from

the faces of hypocrites

And other times you hold

a double-edged sword of fire

tearing curtains of lies

cutting through between

bone and marrow

O brave princess, my heroine

My heart adores you!

Xavier Bage

Wed, September 27, 2017

6:28 AM

Satan's Beatitudes

Blessed are the arrogant in spirit

For theirs is the kingdom of earth

Blessed are those who live in pleasures now

There are no pleasures in future

Blessed are the violent in attitudes

For they will inherit abundant wealth

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for evil

For they will be satisfied

Blessed are they who are ruthless

For mercy has no place on the earth

Blessed are the dirty in heart

For there is no pleasure in being pure

Blessed are the troublemakers

For they will be called my children

Blessed are you who bow to me

And live your life on my commands

For you will have nothing to worry

All your life I will be your protector.

Xavier Bage

Mon, Sep 21, 2017

My Primary School Blue Whale

You are the largest creature

Of our dear planet, I was told

In my primary school G.K.

My awe was entwined with love

for you,  when I got to know

Even though you could enclose

Twenty elephants in your belly

You needed, to nourish you,

Only tiny fish!

O creature of the blue waters

How evil minds have created ways

To vilify your name

A deadly game, named after you

is up for kids to play

And it has devoured over a hundred

Human children believed to be

Engrossed in harmless fun

You never did such a ghastly act!

My heart bursts with burning anger

Against those who device

Such devilish traps

To prey on unsuspecting souls

To chain and drag them to the hell

Of dark, doorless depression!

O man, are you so beyond redemption

That you have turned wolves

To your own children?

Xavier Bage

Sat, September  o9, 2017

The Blame

The boy said to his rich father

"Give me a smart phone

All my friends have their smartphone

I feel humiliated in their company

They laugh at me and say

If your father is a businessman

Traveling to distances in this

Huge country of ours

Why can’t he buy you a smartphone?"

An irrefutable piece of argument it was!

The son soon had his smartphone!

It didn’t make him any smarter though

On the contrary…

“If you don’t give me a Bullet bike

I’ll not go to school,” said the brat.

To his rich dad after two months

All these years up to standard eleven

He has been to school on the school bus.

But now that he’s grown up

It felt it below his dignity!

He struck at the right year!

The twelfth year, the last year!

He said it would take to his tuitions

And classes in time!

He tied his dad in a blackmailing bind

“I’m not going to school without a Bullet!”

The dad was truly in bind

For he was a member of a joint family

Four brothers worked in the business

And pooled their labor to profit

If they didn’t, their wives and children

Would be without the good life they have

The dad said, “Son, a bike you’ll have after

You pass your Class Twelve!”

To make a long story short

The boy stepped out of his house

In his uniform but didn’t attend classes

To the tuitions he went but

Lost his way and landed at wrong places!

He even skipped his exams!

He foreknew his ISC result

He failed and laid the blame

On his father’s head!

Xavier Bage

Tuesday, September 05, 2017