A Dying Rose by Ramnath Subramanian

It’s here you need to look, my friend,

where the bell is cracked and dangers draw close;

but you’re asleep though the world is shook,

my words just brush a dying rose.


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Song For A Journey by Ramnath Subramanian

The ink on paper is without color,

The facts are twisted left and right;

Journalism without valor

Has made of truth a valiant lie.

Behold the corporation’s reach

Has claimed the country for its own;

Free speech has nothing left to teach:

Just the rag of chains and bones.

Where goes my child, waving a rose

That bleeds the red of blinded sight;

The woods are deep with thousand woes,

But smile a smile for the falling light.


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From Rosebud To Full Rose: A Sonnet by Ramnath Subramanian

Among the things that are marked by age,
the amorous words of love make claim
to strength and eternity, but the rosebud shows
the path to full rose is a candle-flame

that flickers and fades. Brave words are brave,
the flash and dash of love are manifold;
but quietly comes that crooked hour, the knave,
to scatter things, and promises to fold.

Be true, therefore, to love at dawn
when the colors are rich and the sky is warm,
for what comes between the rose and the thorn
is a path unknown that’s full of storm.

Therefore let love construct in an hour
a kingdom that is resplendent forever.


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Sunset Thoughts by Ramnath Subramanian

Each honeyed laughter
Now makes mockery of the road
Where a dead fish lies
That once swam in the eye-pools.

Each primrose I sought
And touched momentarily
Has now moved into
A barbed-wire separation.

The brick wall stands solid
Like a sage at the crossroads.

When bones sing the tune
(The brick wall having crumbled)
I will know the stars
That course evenly the night.

Till then I’ll believe
In primrose and brick wall,
The sage constantly showing me
Another road.


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You Are Rose by Ramnath Subramanian

you move as flower
ribboned
in sky-blue

every happening of heart
each earth-brown hour
ribbon of hope, enduring hue

sun-ly, wing-ly, you move the chart
and love is made whole

do they know
— they who walk among flowers —
you are rose


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The Bell Is Cracked, And Dangers are Close by Ramnath Subramanian

IMG_0455

It’s here, my friend, you need to look,
Where the bell is cracked, and dangers are close,
But you’re asleep though the world is shook,
My words just brush a dying rose.

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From a drawing
Night Shadows
by Edward Hopper
Exhibition in Rome, 2016
Italy
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From Rosebud to Full Rose: A Sonnet by Ramnath Subramanian

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Among the things that are marked by age,
the amorous words of love make claim
to strength and eternity, but the rosebud shows
the path to full rose is a candle-flame

that flickers and fades. Brave words are brave,
the flash and dash of love are manifold;
but quietly comes the crooked hour, the knave,
to scatter things, and promises to fold.

Be true, therefore, to love at dawn
when the colors are rich and the sky is warm,
for what comes between the rose and the thorn
can bring more pain or provide balm.

The strength of love makes in one hour
a kingdom that is resplendent forever.



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Photograph
by Ramnath Subramanian
Sunset Cliffs
San Diego
California


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“Quick…hurry…come take a look!” by Ramnath Subramanian

While the wonders of the world are many, and the joys to be derived from them infinite, they do take on special meaning when they can be shared with someone else. The heart that sings soars when it sings in a tandem arrangement.

I am thankful for my wife, Maria, who has taught me over the years to take the dross out of my life, and to replace it with the quotidian beauty and wonder found in nature.

Many are the times when I was immersed in some routine of the day that Maria dragged me away to witness an aerial ballet performed by hawks, or the changing canvas of a desert sunset as it moved across a palette of pigments.

“Quick…hurry…come take a look!” said Maria, on countless occasions, all smiles and bursting with excitement. Her voice carried an urgency that one must bring to evanescent moments. And there it was: a butterfly flirting with a rose; a V-formation of ducks flying South; or inca doves in the backyard forming a pyramid to keep warm in winter.

And so to Maria’s axiom: Drop everything and enjoy the wonder.

I am thankful for the rainbow and the rain, and for the long arch of nature that is full of delectations. And if I have looked at nature’s surprises with delight, and written here and there a poem or two, let it be known that while I moved the hand that held the pen, the ink veritably flowed from above.




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Photographs
by Ramnath Subramanian
Golden Gate Park
Palace of Fine Arts
San Francisco
California