Three beasts and a flower

Three beasts roamed a jungle one night,

While moon gleamed up in sky, full and bright.

 

It was supposed to be an eclipse, that day,

Moon was thus to be inched to dark and dismay.

 

Darkness began to shroud the jungle soon,

As scary dark sipped milky light, off the moon.

 

Poor beasts were the one to get scared,

As they were told demons that day went flared.

 

They ran around for a tree: shelter to find some,

And found a found an orchid, all calm and mum.

 

Astonished they asked, eclipse it is today,

Demons disguised in dark, moon they slay.

 

Flower smiled to say:

I and you make a part of Earth’s shadow on moon,

Making an eclipse and it fades away, so very soon.

 

And then there were four more happy gazers at moon.

 

 

P. S: i don’t know what you call it, but some call it a ‘paradigm shift’ (a more serious definition, far from what i meant is here). You think in  a direction and an incident/talk/glimpse/or your own idea makes you to think in a whole new way. The whole perception changes.

A metaphorical try. Do you have any paradigm shifts to share?

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I’m a microbiologist

We learnt in school,
with Mugging in no dearth;
That, all living beings are
Rightful inheritors of earth.
.
That, every speck and nook of
Life has equal right to live,
And we human beings have no
Authority to make them leave.
.
Well, I’m a microbiologist:
I study germs.
And I don’t think we care
For the above said terms.
.
I nurture and grow microbes
In millions in a minute half.
Only to see culture patterns
And then steam them off.
.
While those poor germ-
Injected mice were dying,
I drew graphs on which
My experiments were relying.
.
We have efficient antibiotics
To kill: in no dearth.
But, I’m poked for all are
Rightful inheritors of earth.
.
Yes, I’m the culprit.
I’m a microbiologist.
.
Hubli
.
.
PS: It was an experiment in our lab to grow a particular microbe. The plates (glass plates on which they’re grown) got contaminated and some others encroached the space of our microbe. We had to bake these unwanted(?!) microbes in steam. The poem was the result of that guiltiness.
A film dialogue goes like, ‘cruelty is just a matter of percept’.
True  . . .?

an abstract to a friend

I feel cosy in midst,
Of this July rain;
Being lost in thoughts;
In my acquainted, mind lane.

I ponder over my love:
My affectionate.
So do I, reunite my cluttered
Spirit: a true senate.

The one who lush
My life’s garden.
He’s the one who plants
Daffodils of innocence in my eden.

We began from nought, and fuse back
To nought: for it’s divinity.
I may perish, he too may; but
We together shall perish at infinty.