JEEWAN RAMLUGUN
The overarching rows of hornbeam trees in Bushy Park’s Woodland Gardens, leading up to placid waterways, have for long had a special place in my affections.
Hornbeams are symbolic of strength (physical and mental), have magical connotations of good fortune, healthfulness and sapience, and the bond between spirits.
This collection of 141 poems is an ode to the intimate, intrinsic connectedness between humanity and nature.
This is my third book of predominantly nature poems, inspired in the main by Bushy Park, next to Hampton Court Palace. Several more of such poems await publication.
A harvest of colours
The musty, musky season
is upon us,
the fragrance of potpourri-
of gently wilting hibiscus
of slowly fading frangipani.
At nature’s banquet
there is much to savour
yet never any glut or surfeit,
all in modest measures
served, sufficient for the day.
The tinting transmutation goes on
as mellowing matures;
and there is the hibernation’s hay
to make while the sun still shines.
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Almost missed.
These little pink-purple flowers
unshowily strew the grassy paths
plied daily alone or in company.
Unworried over being trodden upon
their prettiness is easily missed
by sights set too far
and too high.
In their unremarkable lowness,
in their modesty
earth’s richness is displayed.
Elsewhere on safer higher grounds
other little flowers bedeck the scenes
to please eyes looking beyond
so there is joy all round.
———- ——————-
All in one
If there happens to be
a spring day
in winter,
a summer’s day
in spring and
if these days perchance
in autumn get together,
it is bound to be
a perfect marriage
of the seasons,
of minds
with mixed and matched
colours, in shifting shades,
moods, and fervours.
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A universe in a small world
Holst’s ‘The Planets’ inspires, yet I see
no reason to roam outer space
exhilaration of the seven heavenly
bodies to experience.
Not in the same order or as scripted,
Neptune the mystic
in this enchanting Bushy Park is, indeed,
clearly present as is the magic
of Uranus.
Jupiter brings in a summery flourish
much mirth and effervescent jollity;
and at hand unfailingly is Mercury,
the winged messenger
to herald the changing seasons,
such as signalling the end of summer.
Then ushers in Saturn, bringer of maturer
times, and sumptuous ripeness.
The tempestuousness and fury of Mars
will for a while confound, albeit
its redness adding to the riot of colours;
then Venus’ peace will permeate.
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All that I have
You are all I have for now,
my staple fare
assured in your woodlands
in the panoply of their perennials,
in their species more seasonal
in their creatures vocal
and in those quietly resonant.
You are known to suggest
bushy splendours
with shrubby bowers
serene streams flowing
only music playing
save maybe the hum of humanity.
Hints of former home here inhere
Lakeland pastoral auras in the air.
In this wondrous world
it comes naturally
for body, spirit and soul blithely
to be berthed.
Beauty and bliss
Lush green chestnut trees in the park
with their rich blossoms tantalise;
elegant opulence is making its mark
and to beauty we are witnesses.
Both earthly and unearthly, the deeper
springs of joy effervesce
now and forever.
From your snug garden cabin you sense
permanence amid transience, not only
seeing beauty, but hearing it,
touching it and tasting it, eternity
in a moment grasped, and the blue tit
bears testimony!
We sense enough in beauty to trust.
———————————————
Blissfully
There is here a bucolic calm;
a wood pigeon, a magpie,
a grey squirrel eking out some
sustenance and up high
squawking parakeets
ruling the air waves.
A mere momentary stop
is needed
for time to stand still and a fillip
provide
in this quiet place of repose.
Dourer, more sullen days
will inevitably come
with the advent of austere autumn;
for now, there is much to cheer
and much to endear,
Closer home
Gold, silver and vermillion shimmer
in the water,
swans immaculately white
gracefully float,
wings outspread,
carefreely finding
their way closer to an admirer seated
serenely on the bank.
There is wonderment at work
in this part of the park with much
to behold, much to bewitch
and for long entertain.
Enhancing the scene is a full moon
ascending a cloudless sky
and an antlered deer near, not shy,
at ease with human attention.
Destined
Like a gem you have been destined
to remain precious,
with the passing years, with the accretion
of time, your worth even more enhanced.
There are never-ending celebrations
in songs, in the joyful commotion
of admirers, or in the quiet contemplation
of some solitary souls.
The bright sun may add lustre
and much warmth and mirth
generate, but even when quiescent
and sombre, the sparkle is still there
and the appeal ever present,
your place always full of life.
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Firenze
Did you hear the nightingale sing?
In the sights and sounds
of the city did you not glimpse
the world of old where everything
had a beginning
in simplicity, growing incrementally,
when life though not so securely
anchored, the best that we came to have
and that we zealously preserved,
had sprung from material exiguity
and existential exility?
But we now have time, means and leisure
to rove freely and beauties admire
adding to our intangible treasures
and our personal legacies.
Golden goodbye
As usual you leave by slow degrees,
a reluctant exit.
When you are gone, we will not mourn
for there will be another morn.
For now till the end, joys
exquisite
will keep at bay
any feeling of dismay.
The last glimmers
of intensest moments,
the gloriously gilded crepuscule,
the ultimate crimson crests
make for a true celestial spectacle,
like a dying star’s final brilliance.
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Greening mind
Boughs bowing in the breeze,
in humbleness
submitting to the rise
and fall, the undulations
of the animating, indwelling spirit.
In the leafy flows and fluxes
can be felt
some redeeming rhythms
some cathartic cadences
to help ride out the troughs of dulled
nonresonant notes, the light green
signalling the surer way ahead
to a state more benign.
In their turns
Spring promises
summer delivers
autumn colours
winter erases.
Spring is hopeful
summer rejoiceful
autumn soulful
winter moanful.
In all the moods
of the seasons
we find our peace,
out of choice!
The tapestry of time
anytime is sublime.
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Keep it up
Do not mind me;
keep chirruping amidst
the cherry blossoms.
As it is meant to be,
I only sing when I can,
and not quite in tune.
My rhythms in words
can never match
your silken renderings.
You are blessed with
a sleek symmetry,
and divine musicality.
Never mind me-
I am here now
then not be;
go on animating souls
filling their emptiness
with mellifluence.
Lesser, prettier
Far wandering swallows
swiftly fly
back to these shores
soaring high
then swooping
with hurrahing whoops
over the sylvan slopes
of Rydal,
as the divine buttercups
of the Celandine
crave your return.
In Grasmere’s graveyard
by the tombstone
of Lakeland’s best known
nature poet
the lesser flowers wait,
to be rendered
resplendent once again.
My tiramisu!
May your sweet delicate effect
like magic work
to lift me up!
May my spirit gone lank
be given a fillip
savouring the elixirs
of the mellowing season
in all its splendours.
A sumptuous feast is laid on
with diverse delicacies
amid the many-hued spectacle
on display.
There will be no cloying
from excess at such banqueting
for it is not of human making,
and no need to save for a rainy day!