Facebook Ethics.

         Facebook Ethics.

Stray thoughts, like paper plates

And disposable water bottles,

Should  reach the trash, faster than

They were conceived in a mood of meaning.

Likes and comments become daily events,

As the thought  for the day, makes its entry.

Sympathies  of friends and well wishers,

Prevent  the thoughts from boomeranging.

Only the payee knows the pain of a bounced cheque.

One who clicks a thought shot, like the one

Who signs a cheque not to be honoured,

Feels not the face of the distressed destination.

Those who happen to see a thought for the day,

From some one they don’t want to hurt,

See the thought, as empty as the waste cheque;

But still they try to save the face of the source.

From where the thought has been mooted;

By a casual click of a 'like' or post of a comment,

Friends uphold the spirit of Facebook ethics.
                                                               P.Chandrasekaran.

                                                 

The Return of the Frogs.

     The Return of the Frogs.

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The frogs were felicitous at the fall of rains,

Croaking their new tunes,

In a chorus song of jubilation.

That was the time, the monsoon

Made it a point to visit the earth annually,

With a passion for the soil and its beings.

The freshness of life everywhere,         

Was in a real, thanks -giving mood.

There was once a festive filling up,

With no void left to wail over emptiness.

The cattle were all on a rodeo round.

Right crops at the right time ,

Like right men at the right place,

Rejoiced over the rightness of things.

Now the frogs have moved into

The withering wells and waning lakes.

The swelling load of human selfishness,

With its spiraling shapes of skyscrapers ,

Has logged  off its myriad, monsoon chats,

Blaming the system failure,  for the backlog.

It  needs a new human ID and password,

To log in with www.nature.monsoon.com,

In a perfect, antivirus, protective mode;

Only a restart of the original schedule of seasons,

Will relocate  the restive frogs, to the rain fed tanks,

And make them croak felicitously at the fall of rains.

                                                                       P.Chandrasekaran.

The Banyan Tree Broods Over.

             The Banyan Tree Broods Over.

My dense shadows  seek  me a special identity,

Like the rings of Saturn, rendering him a pattern.

Unlike others, who leave their shadows behind,

I live under my shadows, for myself and for others;

Banning the arrogance of  tall trees that stand alone,

I remain  substantially sturdy-built, paving a platform

For people  to gather socially, at my sheltering behest.

I provide the meeting point for many a kangaroo court.

When the meeting minds, make a mockery of justice,

They cast their shadows of misdemeanor on me.

But my barks, thicker than the  pachyderms’ exterior,

Bother not the damage done to me, by my beneficiaries..

I am truly Indian, devoutly  national , with  Gandhian  roots.

I know to empathize and endure, with time- tested tolerance.

                                                                           P.Chandrasekaran.

The Falling Foxes.

          The Falling Foxes.

'My stocks have fallen’ says the bear.

As the stocks  boom at the bull’s fair.

It is not at all a breach of trust,

But the bane of one’s interest;

If making choices is a clear,one side game,

Where does break out, the betrayal blame?

Life is a gamble of crossing the fence.

Even kids bet their lot, with innocence.

Adults moot their confidence and power of the brain.

The Aged push in, their trump card of senile domain .

In a weird wager, each one wields a key to press.

Some are good at dice; some champion in  chess.

A few climb the snake and ladder tree,

While a few creamy, excel in all three.

Those who stand to lose, shall not blame the stocks.

In playing with the stocks, each one has to be a fox.

When the stocks fall, the fox loses its sheen ;

But the stocks will  ever be a pasture green.

The falling foxes have a lesson to learn;

Grab the sides, for a climb sure and stern.

                                                  P.Chandrasekaran.

When Might is Right.

       When Might is Right.

Right and wrong are roadways two;

One has to pick up one's lane to woo.

Who is right and who goes wrong,

Are views  that go with people strong .

Right turns wrong with those, meek;

All is right, when power is at its peak.

Like True or False,in an answer sheet,

Positions change in a second's beat.

As who will win and who will lose,

Are open to bet, for race and ruse;

Right or wrong is a cross fire case,

Just in the form of a wild goose chase.

For right is wrong and wrong is right,

So long the lead is a matter of might.

                                                      P.Chandrasekaran.