start of the amphibian yoga pose?
rocky never new hollow brook leaping), Sunday
Scribblings (mud), One
Single Impression(struggle) and Magpie Tales
have since softened to mud
birds have imagined
theirs will soon be
before – dry and hot,
although still never new
“Why are they selling poppies, Mummy? Selling poppies in town today. The
poppies, child, are flowers of love. For the men who marched away.
But why have they chosen a poppy, Mummy? Why not a beautiful rose? Because my
child, men fought and died in the fields where the poppies grow.
But why are the poppies so red, Mummy? Why are the poppies so red? Red is the
The heart of the poppy is black, Mummy. Why does it have to be black? Black, my
child, is the symbol of grief. For the men who never came back.
But why, Mummy are you crying so? Your tears are giving you pain. My tears are
my fears for you my child. For the world is forgetting again.”
-Author John F.Willcocks
Chah Nahin Premi Mala Mein Bindh, Pyari Ko Lalchaon.
Chah Nahin Samraton Ke Shav Par, He Hari Dala Jaaon.
Chah Nahin Devon Ke Sar Par Chadhon, Bhagya Par Itraoon.
Mujhey Tod Lena Banmali, Us Path Par Tum Dena Phaink,
Matra Bhoomi Per Sheesh Chadhaney, Jis Path Jaayen Veer Anek.
Desireth not to be in a garland Binding, enticing young lovers,
Desireth not to rest on the mortals Of Emperors – aren’t we equally God’s own?
Desireth not to be on the heads of Gods To take pride in mere fortune,
Pick me out, O Gardener! Strew me on the path that the Brave tread
To sacrifice for Motherland! Let me, in obeisance, bow my head!