Sunday, May 1, 2022



Earth’s Last Day & Also Mine


I started dying and rebirthing the moment I was born,

every moment, every day, every morn

for what is sleep if not death?

Mother Earth’s bowels too tremble and are torn

each birth giving life, life giving birth, or passing away

for am I not her, she is me, you and they?


The mother, the poet, the artist she

master crafter of all I am, or can be

her songs on zephyr lips dance on flower hips

birthing and nurturing too

teach me to be there for my brood

having lived through children’s lisps and slips

rewind my own childhood, resting tired limbs.


A mother never dies, she plants a plant

of abundant love’s seed in each little heart

Love carries on giving hope, new life

in the  darkest night, in days of strife.


Mother, you carry me in the womb nine long months

manna from heaven pouring through full breasts

as soon as you bring me into the world, your life 

an age of never ending days, sleepless nights.

Mothers never die,

just pass on, leaving sepia bits and pieces behind.


Gaia, skilled at rebirth, whatever happened since times eternal

you bounced back with babbling brooks, spring songs,

flowery fragrances, frothy green grass, winds so strong.


If comes a day and you die, I’ll be gone with you

or when it’s my time to leave, the mortal frame

having learnt and all done for what I came.


All who love me or even shun

one last time I want to hug

forgive myself, and them for any hurts and pain.

beg to be forgiven for all wrongs done

Thank each one for helping me become

a better version of myself every day

often stumbling, wounding myself on the way.


After my organs are harvested, if of any use

whatever remains, remember my sins, faults,

bitterness, wounds inflicted knowingly, unknowingly,

harsh words, ill will towards my fellow men,

to burn along.


If you still wish to keep my memory alive

please try to do all of the above,

celebrate a life well lived

wear happy colours,

sing my favourite songs and dance

rejoice for a free spirit

that created her own world

of freedom!




The voice of my education raised

it’s venomous snake head again and again

and I recoiled into a shell of silence.


Many huge moons waxed and waned,

leaving open dark doors of secret desires

and I stood upon the shores of Earth

my feet lapped by the treacherous oceans

where sharks waited to drink my tears,

grasp in clutches crustacean

rip the softest flesh ‘neath my butterfly gossamer.

The tears that dripped wet my wings

thwarted my journey seeking the skies,


I was just a gallinaceous bird brained birdling,

trying my wingspan to take the autumn flight,

came crashing down.


My pulverized bones

needing to be quenched and tempered. 

balked at all the albatrosses around my neck

were they that brought me down?


Then I walked to the Sea of Galilee

and pleaded, “Jesus Saviour Pilot Me”

cross life’s tempestuous sea

to voyage through death.


And a light like a lily in bloom

blinded me as I walked on a tamed sea,

my hand held, Jesus beside me.

He took me to the place of his entombment

In Magdalene swathes I shrouded his body

and stayed on watch for three days

The first to set eyes as He arose resurrected,

all the albatrosses around my neck weightless,

I spread my wings tied to the cross

bearing it to my mount of Calvary

and there from higher grounds

I learned to fly.




The Milky Way galaxy is a part of a super-cluster,

just an appendage of the much larger galaxy,

“Laniakea”, Hawaiin for immeasurable heaven,

worlds beyond worlds, heavens beyond heavens.

Scientists, let their wings open and fly.

So can I.

I maybe a small speck somewhere on the Universe,

a part of a hundred million billion suns am I.


I am that Universe, a hundred million billion suns.

 my thought travels as lightning, a million light years away,

What is behind the motion of my thought,

what fetters, what shackles, what retards it?

They are all here within my grasp,

I hold the key.

Let no power, no dogmas, no energy fair or foul hold me back,

I shall carve new milky paths

where the days are not numbered.

thought is not encumbered

I have galaxies to travel,

become the supernova, powerful, luminous,

explode and birth many new stars 

I am the red nova of the skies. 


My Child


WORLD AUTISM DAY- 2nd April 2022

A Poem Dedicated To Those With Autism, Their Parents, And Caregivers.


I wake up to your shouts, screams and grunts

every morning, and wonder what will today be like?

Will it be another day stretching resilience

to breaking point, or awaken enough courage

to stoically jump back centre stage,

reframe my thoughts

hold the fort,

the axis on which our lives spin.


I help you dress, you fiddle with buttons

jump with jubilation at your smallest victory

I try to match your smile, make you happy.

It helps me too !


I wait for the conveyance that takes you

where others like you join in,

and become an exclusive group,

with special needs

but not inclusive!


I wonder if, 2nd April is enough to teach the world

to paint every day the warmest blue on life’s palette.


I wait in snow and sleet, rain and sunshine

to send you off on that van. A few hours of respite

trying to catch up on sleep deprived, grabbing a bite,

yet haunted by worry for how you are doing. 


Did I or did I not give you those few extra drops?

The miraculous oil that calms your frayed nerves

keeps you from attacking others.


I walk a stony path my child, it is a lonely journey,

not many understand my travails as I live for you

try to include you in the mainstream of life

your siblings, not always as mindful,

for their own childhood was lost somewhere

grappling with turmoil in a dysfunctional home.


I don’t blame them or others, only wonder if one day

they will see the purity of your soul,

your need to give and receive love, a hug,

a pat of appreciation, a few smiling words.


I wonder where I faltered, when you were a baby

on days that you are verbal or warble, playing the piano

I know you love music, hard rock, rocking in exhilaration.

Colours, shapes, sizes, perfection fascinates you

sometimes a picture emerges, perfectly in order

it is the world that is out of order !


I am old now, and you a young man, often crush my ribs

falling all over me-its LOVE !


I pray for a world order where you are not considered freak or scum.

It saddens me when criminals and monsters

get away with the vilest of crimes

seated on thrones of power

and you my child are caged in a world of oblivion.

I want to scream my lungs out !




Seductive words rolled easily, sliding off  

The golden honey-dripping tongue

slid darts smoothly, beneath her olive skin

unobtrusively nestled in the core of her gullible heart. 

Gossamer whispers, enticing lewd pleasures,

spun dark secrets, dancing in drunken delight

the spider’s parlour, a perfect web.


A wounded snake seeking solace,

crept between the silk of her fingers

nestled in the warmth of her palm

safe from those who had crushed him.


Every morn ‘n night she’d lick his wounds

trying to heal. While she slept he would slither away

to the wilderness which called out to him

the wounds gaping afresh every night,

back before she awoke, nestled now under her sleeve

allured by her heady scent, he crept upwards

She hugged him close, nourishing at her bosom

imploring him to make friends with joy


Her milk turned to venom,

besmirched the ruby red heart to rusty brown,

seeped into every crevice and convolution of her brain

awakening dark dreams and depraved desires

in a mind hurtling self destructively towards an abyss.


He held her in his vice with lip smacking sweet nectar

laced with the poison of a threadbare self-image

At the edge, she took the next step forward.




SUNIL KAUSHAL: Awarded author Dr. Sunil Kaushal, studied in schools all over India, her father having been an army officer. Her nomadic life visiting and living in new towns every 2 years has been very interestingly chronicled in her debut book of memoirs, Gypsy Wanderings& Random Reflections, which was awarded the Nissim Award by the prestigious International poetry group, The Significant League, in the non-fiction category for ‘exquisite prose’. She attended college at one of the most prestigious colleges, Isabella Thoburn College, Lucknow, India. Later she went on to doing her medical studies at Govt. Medical College, Amritsar, India, followed by 40 years of practice in Obstetrics-Gynaecology at Jalandhar, Punjab. Although she has been writing sporadically since her childhood, her writings were carefully tucked away from the public eye. At age 70 she learnt to use a computer and started writing full time, sharing her poetry and prose online. She is pleasantly surprised to discover the poet and writer within her being recognized, every time she wins a contest or award. This trilingual writer writes in English, Hindi and her mother tongue Punjabi, which she has never studied but is self-taught. Published in a number of National and International anthologies and magazines, some of her poems have been translated into French, German and Greek. Her writing is mostly woman-centric, romantic, sensuous, poems about marginalized people. She also writes philosophical, spiritual, besides humorous poetry.

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