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POEM: The Passing Cloud

BY: Jacintha Morris | Category: Others | Submitted: 2014-06-17 00:51:09
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Article Summary: "Often many get disappointed when they don't get the response as they expected for favours granted. It is indeed a great fact that GIFTS SHOULD NOT BE ATTACHED WITH STRINGS. we should not even expect a polite THANK YOU once we do something good to others. Lets choose the PASSING CLOUD theory into practice and expect nothing for .."


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Often many get disappointed when they don't get the response as they expected for favours granted. It is indeed a great fact that GIFTS SHOULD NOT BE ATTACHED WITH STRINGS. we should not even expect a polite THANK YOU once we do something good to others. Lets choose the PASSING CLOUD theory into practice and expect nothing for the aid it renders.

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PASSING CLOUD
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I like the passing cloud,
Laden with droplets, cool
As much as it could hold,
On spot of withered field,
Halts, to drain the droplets,
Pauses, till brown turns green,
Waits, for different fruits to grow,
Or coloured petals to sway,
Then slowly it drifts away,
Collects droplets on the way,
Lying idle at sky bay.

The cloud by itself doesn't adorn,
With flowers those fields bore,
Does not wait to taste,
The fruits the plants hold.
Aroma the flowers exalts,
Strengthens the cloud,
To hold droplets more.

Smile on farmers face,
Motivates it to roll with grace.
The cloud is dark, not bright,
No ornamental shape on sight,
Few could see the silvery line,
Fulfilling little help in time,
Floating with ray of hope.

Let not the wild wind tear apart,
Or the mighty storms shatter it,
Let only the gentle breeze blow,
And take it to places it wants to flow.

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JACINTHA MORRIS,
AG's Office
Trivandrum

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Comments on this article: (1 comments so far)

Comment Comment By Comment Date
Jacintha has come a long way as a poet. This poem is as pristine as clear water from a deep well. Disillusions and realizations which have come in years made her thoughts, words and deeds extra clear. When one reads this, one is reminded of the monsoon days when rain has washed the air clean of dust and a moist chill spread around us, shrouding us in its warm blanket. This is a poem which will stand as long as there is rain to shower and heart to soar. Great Jas, thanks! Sreekumar K - Author 2014-06-17 08:52:02 2064

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