Saturday, April 19, 2014

A musical rose

A bed of roses
With fifty petals
A grand design
For every life divine

A symphony of sounds
Heard by tender ears
Cacophony of thoughts
Sadly drowns them out

A baton comes alive
Orchestrating energy into music
Instruments sing and dance
As the conductor calls their turn

A wall of silence
Sound proofs the inner realm
Black space insulates the moon
From the fireworks of our rejoicing world

A musician’s paradise
Are these inner sounds
Drowning our sorrows
Like intoxicating wine

A clash of cymbals
Echoes afar
Makes a dramatic announcement
Shattering the silence

A bee trapped
Between the plates of cymbals
Longs for an escape
To the safety of its hive

Golden drops of honey
Homage to nectar from roses
Flown in by the workers
For the regent bee to enjoy in its syrupy palace

The queen of all thoughts
Serenaded by the court musician
Cleverly disguises her royal heritage
As a whisper behind silence

A fiddle is quiet
Without the friction of the bow
Each string makes
A unique sound

This high pitched member
Of a string quartet
Plays a dominant role
The double bass bows out into a slumber

When favorable reflections
Are strung like a bow
Beautiful music of love and cheer
Shoot far and wide

The hand of the conductor
Pulls the tempo of the music
A mind in order directs flow
From the throes to a healthy inner glow

The sounds of the world
Excites a tiny tambourine in each ear
This vibratory cue spreads
A heavenly resonance, ensnaring the mind

Melodious sounds of a piccolo
Waft into a haunted mind
Worldly cares drift
Far enough, bringing joy

Every renter of consciousness
Sings the tune of restless energy
Five instruments
Accompany this lifelong symphony

The musical score
Written on rose petals
Is a special gift
To be used before the flower wilts

The wall of silence
Is plastered with notes
Of unfulfilled desires of a musician
Longing to strum the celestial harp

Instruments are gifted
After being polished with care
A boisterous trumpet or a melodious flute
Time will one day render both mute

A bed of roses for the body
Is music to the mind
A lifetimes earnings
Cannot coax music from a rose

An ensemble of thoughts
Habituated to a tune
Of peaceful notes
On which harmony floats

A soprano’s range
From low to high
Drowns the whispering chant
Of the petals inside

Millions of clarinets and horns
Violins and violas
Xylophones and drums
Pianos and flutes

Vying for a spot
On the orchestra that matters
Bankrolled by riches
From the vaults of the promised land

The master musician
Picks only worthy tunes
From tender hearts
And not coarse instruments

The song is played
To the march of ants
Crashing waves on stoic rocks
Clouds heaving silently with the weight of raindrops

Swirling storms of nature’s fury
Parting of the Earth as a tree drills its roots
Grassy haircuts rendered by hungry cows
And the air dance of honey bees

Busy eyes fail to notice nature’s living art
Surveilling instead vanishing pleasures
Alert ears fail to pick up the sounds of the great mother
Preferring the jingle of silver and gold

The marooned mind
Tasting fruits on a sensory island
Can only dream
As the head is cradled by idle hands

The rose bud
Flowers and wilts
As the master musician
Patiently waits

Dropping the instruments
The entertainment stops
The mind revolts
Begging for an encore

The genius of Beethoven
Survives the passage of time
Soothing human consciousness
With ageless symphonies

The sole composer
That charms the soul
With a musical rose
Hides behind thorny bushes scattered among countless thoughts
- N. Seshadri