Blissful Touch

28.07.07

Your most tender-leaf touches

And peppermint stings,

Feather my tummy

As dinner approaches.

Your playful nudges

Do wonders to my belly -

Makes me want to touch

And feel you close to me.

If your mystique existence

Can affect me so,

What your actual presence can bring for me,

Is a feeling I’d love to know.

Now your fingers must be

Hardly a little inch.

Your eyes still shut inside,

But aware of every pinch.

You kick to your hearts content,

And squirm inside mummys cot,

While you prepare yourself to meet us all,

You’ll fight your little way out.

Oh tender, cute and sweetest love-

Mummy’s gentle hand can you feel?

As I place my arm on my belly

After a heavy meal?

Can you hear my gentle melodies,

Or the lullabies that daddy whispers?

Tell me with a nudge or a little kick

Is it dad’s or my  song you prefer!

Mum and dad wait day after day.

To hold you in their arms

As they dote with rose-colored eyes at you

Or relish your baby charms.

Our bundle of joy, our absolute wonder

Our sweetheart you will be,

You’ll be showered with love and affection

Which on our faces you’ll see.

Every smallest movement now you make,

Every steady inner clutch

Its your presence that will be felt always,

With that small, yet blissful touch.

Rajashree Anand

Little Drop

When she trickles down the wasted soil,
Little Drop crackles like burning hot oil,
But look what wonder she then creates:
seeds and saplings into plants she makes.


When Summer shines her drying rays
and shows us many humid days,
Little Drop unannounced drips clear and stout
off the human skin – she cools it out.


What greatness is there in Little Drop?
Sans her, can Growth her functions stop?
For Dryness can brace his arms around
send parching winds to scorch the ground.


What magic and power is in her stored
that plants look green and best adored?
Does she have some secret wand
that can transform fallow into fecund land?


But, in deserts she alone has little power.
Sand becomes her protective cover,
she cannot heed what humans say,
as meters deep below she lay .


To nature she hath given aplenty,
to affluent palettes she serves a bounty.
In their royal crystal ware doth relax
and trickles off ones with the slightest cracks!


In city fountains she flaunts herself,
in basins, baths, or on tavern shelves
and even with the slightest drizzle,
with the rainbow colorfully she begins to dazzle.


Isn’t it then fun to be this Missy Drop,
Prancing around and dancing about?
Jacuzzis and pools where she lies,
in chilled cocktail drinks, where she tickles and slides.


But, when farmers need her shining grace,
desperate for rain, showing on their face.
They implore her to gleam on their drop-less land
to the poor man come and shake his hand.


People who pools and saunas adore,
But only tumblers and vessels who can afford
does she their vacant pitchers adorn
to cleanse them off their frustrated scorn?


Isn’t it really ironical to think
they have vessels with nothing to drink
when Little Drop on fountains displays her dance,
their desires they try to hide and lance.


Little Drop, all I can plead to you
Aren’t they as kind and loving too?
See how they worship and treasure you
give them as you to others do.


I know its due to our human race
where some can see your frequent face
but to those whose chanting can never stop
I beg, please help them Little Drop!