The Carpenter Boy...

He works with His tools, His hammer and His nails;
Keep trusting in Him coz He never fails...


I was walking along a long dusty path
And I passed by a workshop one day,
In it was a tall, dark and handsome young man 
With black hair and a few strands of grey.


He was working so hard on something, I saw
He had no wood under the nail;
So focussed to finish what He'd taken up,
Though He looked very tired and frail.


I had to stop by and check out His work
So I walked in and asked Him what it might be.
Strangely He looked up as soon as I'd asked
And gently He smiled at me.


His nail, I saw,  was in a crimson pool 
Yet He hammered away  without a frown;
After what seemed like ages He was done with His job
"'It's finished'", He said and sat down.


I took His hands in mine while tears flushed my eyes 
For I couldn't believe what He'd done for me;
He'd carved my name on His soft tender palms
And He'd done all of it for free.


"I'm a carpenter boy.",  He said with so much love
"And my masterpiece is you,
For the world you may be just another work of art
But for me you're just too good to be true."


He crafted His own cross and died for me;
He carved,on His palm, my name;
The world keeps changing and so do I
But my love- He remains just the same...

...but she's always a woman to me...

No, I am not the weaker one but neither am I the stronger;
I only play my roles and complete you as you complete me...

The child

Tantrums and tears, all say they are her weaknesses;

She is so full of them, no she won't take no answers;

The more you  hold her back, the more she lunges forward

And the more you quieten her, the more she screams to have her way

She needs to be understood, nurtured and cared for,

Empty promises will not pacify the babe;

The more you push her away, just passing the buck on,

The more she clings to you; So accept her with your wide

Arms, it's all she needs; A hug, love and security.

The Mother

One moment, she is a child and the very next its mother;
She nurtures the child in her, she stands up to the world
And protects the little babe, wiping its tears she teaches it,
"Be stronger my dear, for the world belongs to such,
The world, it will abandon you but I will hold on to you ,
For how can I leave a part of me to suffer and perish;
I will raise you up to be the woman and more that you're meant to be".

The Angel
There's power in her love, a power so gentle;
She has her ways of knowing that you've been all low;
Reading 'tween the fine lines that drop off your lips and
Stealing all your sorrows, she leaves back all her joy;
A joy that is scarce; But she knows she will manage
And so she smiles through her pain, a smile that knows you're happy.

The Bitch
She tries not to hurt you but sometimes she doesn't,
She intends to nick your heart and cause you pain,
She does what she does coz she knows she can do it,
And she knows she has power over what is her own,
She claims that if she's hurt you she also has loved you,
Coz she can only hurt the ones that she loves.

The Ambitious
A tigress, wounded but unyielding, she will fight the fight until her last breath;
Giving up or giving in is an option for a few;
She walks tall and aspires to be at the vanguard
But can walk back to the start line for the ones that she loves;

She's the boss, she's the painter, the writer, the maid;

But she's also the daughter, the mother, the friend

Juggling colored balls, a million and more
She makes sure she's there for all those that she loves;
In the bargain, giving herself the last of all slots.

The Homemaker
She transforms a house of bricks into a home;
A home warm with love, a sanctum of sorts;
All those who live in it are safe in her embrace;
Though The Ambitious, all out there and bold,
She tucks you into safety with a kiss and a smile.

The Woman
Girded with strength, she plays her varied roles;
So many faces and yet the same heart,
Loathe her or love her but you know you can't leave her,
For your heart will speak its heart out saying, "...she is always a woman to me..."

Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised... (The Holy Bible)


Inspired by Billy Joel's She is always a woman to me

...

Inspiration is the father of art and the soul its mother, for when inspired does the soul conceive a masterpiece...

Dawn breaks; The golden gates of Your kingdom 
You set ajar for the sunlight to pour in its abundance;
Oh how brightly it shines! Your face in all its royalty;
Your gaze on Your children, burning in them a fire
That sets aflame a zeal to live a life of fulfillment that comes from You alone.

Ai Khuda, Teri sultanat humesha rahe aabaad
Uss jaanat mein bhi aur iss jahaan mein bhi
Bus itni se hai fariyaad...

Tides fall low and tides rise high;
In solitude but dignified it stands
With waves lashing against it;
Not once does it fail to do the Karma
Showing the way to those in need,
Being the light when darkness falls;
That He in His goodness should make me
Like the brave lighthouse always standing tall;
Doing faithfully its duty, asking for zilch as reward.

Beauty lies in the detail.
Life just waits to happen, ne'er does it fail;
Embracing every external as its own,
With everyone or all alone,
It keeps growing, keeps forging ahead with Him as its holy grail.

Photography: Devendra Tambe

Lime and Lemony Limericks...

There was a time when she thought

That nothing was all she had got,

But then she grew older

And oh she grew bolder

And she gave all she did her best shot.

   

                    ***

She studied then with books and files,

Buried under heaps and piles.

Now her thought's taken a turn.

Now she knows how to learn.

And she hopes she walks with Wisdom for miles.

                    ***

She whiles away all her time.

She doesn't think it's a crime.

For the time she loves wasting,

Is a time that's worth tasting

And a time that's worth more than a dime.

                    ***

She loves trying something new.

If you'd try it you'd love it too.

The old ways are as boring

As the old man who's snoring,

So add some spice to your tasteless stew.

                  ***

She loves being inspired by feeling.

It gives her withered soul a sense of healing.

So she picks up her quail

And writes her own tale

To Him who listens as she is kneeling.

                 ***

I don't know what I want to be

Or what my future holds for me.

But someday I shall rise

Up from foolishness to be wise

And only then the big picture shall I see. 

                  ***       

Chuggy...

...in a brown cardboard box with dolls and bears it parked itself to the right;

The blue wooden train sat blue and unnoticed, hiding and out of sight...

Day in and out blue Chuggy had chugged, it had made little Michael smile;

Coo it had chugged, coo-coo had it blown its whistle for many a mile.

Not once had it halted and ne'er had it stopped its journey on the tracks of gold;

Huffing and puffing it had forged ahead till mommy said it would have to be sold...

                                                  

                                                  ******

One fine day when it had been chugging it spotted in its tracks a gap;

It whistled and blew to anyone who'd hear, but couldn't avoid the mishap.

It rolled off the track, and out of the door straight down on the steep wooden stairs;

Little blue Chuggy landed onto the floor and laid there for all one cares.

An hour went by, and then another one, when little Michael came hopping along;

He saw blue Chuggy all broken and shattered but went away singing his song.

Chuggy just lay there, no more could it whistle for its charge had gone all low;

So lost and lonely it felt and it cooed to revive itself from the blow.

                                                  ******

...so now it just lay there lifeless and limp in the brown cardboard box on the right;

For little Michael had neither for once turned his back nor with mommy had he put up a fight.

When blue blue Chuggy thought all was lost, it saw a shadow being cast over it;

A freckled little lad with hair as red as ever peered at him with his face all lit.

"Mommy", he said "look what I have found for my happy birthday gift,

a blue wooden train so happy and bright.", and out of there blue Chuggy he did lift.

He put the broken pieces together with love and blue Chuggy in his arms he nestled;

Chuggy was happy that it'd found a new friend and in happiness it gently whistled.

Little Michael had been so good and so dear, Chuggy missed him with out a doubt;

But Goodness had given it another who cared, so Chuggy chucked all its sadness out.

The Greatest Gift...

Of all the gifts Thou has given us, Love is the greatest; And oh Lord
our privilege to make Thee the center of our lives is a manifestation of this, Thy gift to us...


What is human love, only feeble and conditional,
it blooms today like fresh blossoms and tomorrow it withers away;
And even if it should be immortal my Lord, can it compare to that of Thou?
For Thou oh Lord foolishly lavish love upon us;
We stray away and live unrighteous lives but Thou continue to love us,
For Thy love oh Lord is patient and kind, it never comes to an end,
it bears all our sinfulness and hopes to save us from all that is not of Thee.


Our nothingness oh Lord cannot fathom this, Thy kindness to us;
For we see but only a part; The complete portrait of Thy heart for us
we shall see only when we rise above ourselves and share in Thy love;
An unconditional flow, like an eternal river so pure.


Bless us dear Lord that we, some day before we cross the river,
may share of this, Thy love and feel the ecstasy;
For even if we, for only a moment, love another with the love with which Thou love us,
our journey and purpose in life would be rendered complete.

Seulement Pour Moi

What a beautiful bond we share my Lord, You are the flower and I am the bee;

Aye I am drawn to You and You nourish me with nectar so sweet.

But Lord I abhor with great intensity when the other bees hover around You;

It's not the nectar that I fear I shall loose, but my flower I cannot share.

I sing to You a love song and I adore You like I do no one else;

But all of the others do the same my Lord, so how am I different from these?

Why then should you love me more than you do the others?

I understand it all with my head, but my heart, who shall explain it?

You see no difference in all Your lovers, they are all carved on the palm of Your hand;

But Your hand, oh Lord, is not where I long to be;

Make me then, the apple of Your eye and hide me under Your lashes

So that no one takes me away from You nor You away from me.

The others, they may call me selfish, but nothing do I hear or listen;

Solipsism has taken over and I see nothing but me, oh Lord I see nothing but You.

The others they have their flowers or let them go to other gardens;

I exhort that You are mine and mine alone.

Do not despise me or push me away for murdering my conscience;

The puissance I do not have that I would hold myself up;

Look at me alone today and some day when I am stronger,

I shall set You free to make Your home in the heart of the other.