Frog with a dollar

©Image courtesy of University of Delhi
This tiny Indian frog sitting on an Indian 5 rupee coin is the smallest India frog.
http://www.sott.net/articles/show/141091-New-Species-Of-Frog-Discovered-Smallest-Indian-Land-Vertebrate

Small men mock at divine incarnations

Think themselves smart stoke their little passions

With great glee sit and gloat by a puddle

While God’s ocean is right in their middle

Once in a wood lived a big ugly frog

Found a shining dollar on a great rock

Grabbed it in delight, guarded carefully

Thought a world of it proud as frog could be

A great tusker passed over it’s puny hole

The enraged frog with great anger did call

The elephant names, raised it’s leg to kick

The bemused great beast walked into the thick

May the ocean tide flood our lowly holes

And draw us frogs into its treasure laden whole

Carrion Fly and Honey bee

It was born in death, it fed on death
Gorged itself with the full breadth
Of that huge breathless body
And flourished on putrid mortality
It’s suckers knew well their business end
Hurrying a helpless body to its end

http://bugsandbear.blogspot.in/

A bumble bee on its nectarine way
Stopped a bit. Had something to say
The fly had no time, its little mouth too busy
The bee went away sighing in pity
Something stirred within the fly
It mused, ‘that bee, weirdo, just passes by
Welcome table, red meat ripped open
Where does it go, to other food, better even?' ?

But the taste, sights and smells of blood
Soon the flea’s all senses drugged
It sups and sleeps and finds its mate
All world’s flesh could never satiate
Amidst it’s fool life all dead and dull
It thought of the bee for a moment still
It looked up, sure the bee was there again
This time the fly followed in its train
As it flew it felt it’s proboscis growing
Glided along, sat on a lotus flowering

I’m that flea, it hit hard, I blinked
Crash. I woke. Everything clicked
I’m on the look out for those rare honey bees
Sure will come to me, though far away, seven seas


Thanks to
http://itstartswithme-danielle.blogspot.com/2010_05_01_archive.html

MIRA REACHES VRINDAVAN

Yonder comes
The Lord's own bard
Her countenance
Is love molten
In which blossoms
Twin lotuses
Of crimson hue

Her dress is wild
Her tress too so
And yet there is
A beauty in her
A beauty
That has its source
Far beyond
This tiny ball

She wears
A dreamy gaze
She dreams not
For dreams are
A state below
She breathes in
A state above

Her lips are parched
And flesh is starved
Long ago
When asleep
Her eyes had seen
The sleep we know
No, she didn't
Torture her flesh
She had just
Forgotten it.

Whence does she
Draw the strength
To sing these songs
Wonders one.
The songs of
Sweet agony
The bitter nectar
That flows in torrent
When she squeezes
Her stricken heart
It strikes a note
With which vibrates
In unison
Something lofty
In one and all

THE WHOLE OF HER
IS EVER ALERT
WAITING FOR
THE MAGIC SPARK
TO EXPLODE INTO
ECSTATIC BLISS

It has come!
It has come!
Oh, look at her,
Thou fortunate!
A transformation
Lights her face
Her whole form
Is ablaze with
Quaint ecstasy
An exquisite joy
Exudes from
Her exultant form

She has heard
The notes of flute
That had drawn her
From her sleep
And haunted her
All these years
Whose memories
Had taken her
Across deserts

She has found
Her beloved at last
She does not
Convey her joy
In music now.
Are there words
To describe this?
Can music
Express this?
It`s a silent music now
That`ll touch a being in solitude.

She has wandered alone before
The river has reached the ocean now.
Now at last
She has reached
Her Vrindavan