I watched him in the crib

A tiny tot was he

Trying to put his little toe

right into his mouth

Then one day he went to school

and tears rolled down his cheeks

And as he passed those iron gates,

he turned and looked once more…

Years rolled on and he did grow

and a bicycle he rode

‘Bye ma see you in the evening’, he said

Then one day he bade goodbye

And across the seas he went

Even there he is my son

A young man tall and smart

The future before him lies

God is always by his side

In the hollow of His hand


He holds him

This dear son of mine….






Our dog Bruno strong and smart

With wistful eyes and naughty look

With dark brown coat and pleasant ways

The cynosure of neighboring eyes

Nothing doth him upset

But the mewing of a cat

Which indeed his heart doth stir

And sends him galloping down the stair

He never thinks he is a dog

But always feels he is one of us

And never barks when strangers call

Thinking all that is for us to see to

He loves going out by car or walk

His eyes sparkle and ears cock

He runs to the gate ahead of us

Wagging and well pleased

He thrusts himself into the room

Scratching us with his nails so sharp,

Demanding pats on his back

He’s just a dog as you can see

But do u know what he is to me?

He is the spice of the family

I love you Bruno so fine

Whatever you do you are mine

And as you on my lap do rest

I hug you and say you are the best!



My Mother



I think of the day as a little girl

I strolled on the earth with my lovely mother

Clasping hands with her in love


We looked up to the heavens above

And myriad stars looked down on us

In those days of long ago 

Were not the countless stars the same?

That father Abraham saw many years ago?

As I look up to the heavens today

The stars that sparkle the sky are the same

But the eyes that look up

Are old and faded

And the hands that clasped have none to hold

Heavenly father hold thou my hand

Lead me on in earth’s weary way

Guided by angel hands

As long as on this earth I abide

Oh Master In faith help me clasp your hand

 Glancing up at the dimming stars I say like my mother before me

Bless my children I ask dear father

As you blest Abraham in days of old






When I look up at the mountain top
  And stare at the waterfall gushing down
  I think of how our prayers go up and
  From heaven bring blessings down

  When we raise our voices to God
  They do fall on the ears of God
  Heaven is deaf when need is dumb
  We do not have a God whose ears are numb

 When a cry of need goes upward
  the song of joy is heard
  For God hears a poor man’s sigh
  and answers his every cry

  No face ever turned to Him has been in vain
  He never fails the soul that trusts him
  He never fails! He never fails!

  When our crying turns to praying
  It turns our fears to singing
  For every sorrow that comes our way
    Is a Jacob’s ladder on our way





  At the crossroads of life he met me
  I was perplexed weary and alone
  My burden was heavy and the way hard
  And I fell beneath the load
  He spoke to me as to a child
  His touch was soft and words were mild
  ‘Rely on me, trust me’
  He said in a voice sweet and soft
  Bewildered was I at his tender call
  I knew not whether to turn or fall
  But that day my burdens rolled apart
  And there was a song in my heart.
  Whether billows roar or waves do soar
 With the Savior there is nothing to fear
 O weary heart - just trust and obey..
  And the peace of God shall power your way


The Mango tree



  I looked at the mango tree
  It was in full bloom
  Summer was fast approaching
  And fruit was on the boughs

  Mother told me this:
  ‘That seed was sown
  on the day that you were born’
  How both of us had grown!

  The seed had grown
  Drawing strength from the soil
  and borne good fruit
  but have I borne fruit?

  Am I grafted to my Savior?
  Have I taken root in Him?
  Do I bear the fruit of the Spirit?
  Visible for all to see?

  These are the questions that often arise
  When I gaze at the mango tree
  the mango tree is bearing and sharing
  How about you and me?



Life’s a bridge


  One early morning
  As the sun was rising
  I was standing by a river bank
  Watching a boat sailing by

  I saw ripples on the waters bright
  Dazzling in the sunlight
  But as the boat went by
  The ripples went out of sight

  Are our lives like ripples?
  That disappear as we pass by
  Without making a mark that lasts
  On the river of life flowing by?

  Should we not be like a bridge?
  Built across the swift waters
  For those who see us to whisper
  ‘What a bridge to cross the waters’

  Let us be helpful and useful
  Like a bridge across the river
  Leading people to the other side
  Helping them to reach heaven’s door



  A Helping Hand 



  I sat in the garden amidst the green
  I saw a bug climb up a leafy plant
  His eyes bright and expectant
  Happy as he marched up the stem
  but when he reached the top
 He was sore distressed
  there was nothing there to eat!
  As I sat there looking at the bug
  A thought crossed my mind
  I bent the blade of the plant
  Just to touch the next
  The eyes of the insect brightened up
  He quickly walked and crossed
  To the next plant his hunger to satisfy
  A bending of the stem
  Satisfied the hunger of the bug
  And he was happy
  So also in life
  A little act of love
  A kind word, a helping hand
will do wonders
  And turn the world upside down




Growing Old



A little more tired at the close of day

A little less anxious to have our way

A little less ready to fret and blame

And so we are nearing the journey’s end

When time and eternity meet and blend


A little less care for earthly gold

A little more rest in the days of old

A broader view a more tolerant mind

A little more love for all mankind

A little more careful of what we say

And so we are faring a- down the way


A little more love for the friends of youth

A little more zeal for established truth

A little more charity in our views

A little less thirst for the daily news

And so we are folding our tents away

And passing in silence the close of day

A little more leisure to sit and dream

A little more real the things unseen

A little bit nearer to those ahead

With visions of those long lived and dead

And so we are going where all must go

To a place the living may never know.



Where is God?



I looked out of the window and asked, ‘Where is God?’

The dewdrops on the beautiful flowers just smiled up at me

As they sparkled in the sunlight and said,

‘Here he is’


I looked at the heavens and asked, ‘Where is God?’

Millions of stars and galaxies looked down at me

And in the beauty of the night they whispered, ‘Here he is’


I looked at the road below with its hustle and bustle and in wonderment exclaimed, ‘Where is God?’

And in the face of a baby I did see God

I saw a little boy lend his arm to an old man

And here I saw God






As darkness engulfed my path in life

And the entire world seemed to fall apart

My weary eyes looked to thee

And I saw in you your love for me


When pain tore my body to pieces

And I was not able to turn or muse

When tears streamed down my cheek

I was able to feel your touch on me


When I walked through deep waters

When I felt weak and tattered

I heard a gentle voice whisper

Take hold I’ll see you through


Old and feeble weak and disabled

In pain and distress and over burdened

You were right beside me

As I rested my weary head on your breast










Growing Old


  It has been said of an old man who had lived in London all his life, that when he left London to live with his children in a village close by, that he would often climb a hillock and gaze on the dazzling sights of London.  His heart yearned to go back to London to live there in surroundings where he had grown up, lived, loved, and been loved

  Old age is a stage where we are like kings and queens who have lost their crowns.  We have lost our place of importance.  We retire from service and even in our homes have no say in the matter.  Children take over and we have to keep to ourselves.  Old age is a period that everyone has to pass through

 Would you say only youth is beautiful?  Which is more beautiful Sunrise or Sunset? Spring or autumn? Youth is beautiful, blithe and debonair.  Old age is bent with age and woe, with wrinkles deep and looks too plain to speak about


But age with its prudence experience, patience, and maturity outbalances the alacrity of youth.  Statistics show that several artists, poets and painters brought forth their masterpieces after sixty years of age 


 Did not God make a covenant with Abraham in his 99th year?  So seniors take heart. It was Browning who said, ‘Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be’.  We may yet have glad surprises along the corner - spiritual or otherwise



  Rock of Ages


When old, our consciences can find peace with God.  He is the Rock of all ages and in this cleft we take shelter.  We need not think of our past sins as we have been saved by His grace and are at peace with God. We need not suffer remorse again for our mistakes. These blunders have made us wise and helped us to teach the younger generation and pray for them.
Yet it is true that the old have nothing to aspire for in this life. We tread this earth with a feeling of loneliness. We keep looking back on past and think of the happy days we had with our parents and later on with our spouse.    In our childhood there were many people to dote on us.  In our marriage, spouse and children were there. When spouse is no more and children leave the nest, we feel left out and lonely. It is here that our Savior envelops this vacuum and with his presence talks to us, walks with us, and guides us along life’s journey.
 All through life God has stood by us and he stands by us even more in our old age.  God says ‘Even to your old age I am he and even to hoar hairs will I carry you. I have made and I will bear, even I will carry and deliver you.’
 So now that our duties and responsibilities are over on earth we should strive to spend our time and energy serving him, pleasing him and portraying him in our actions as best we can.




Indira is 81 years old and has been suffering from tongue cancer for the past several years.  A graduate from a well known college, she was married at 22 and widowed in her early fifties.  She now lives with her daughter.  Her son lives in the US with his family.   A shy person by nature, Indira plays the piano and loves painting cards.   She also collects and writes poems and articles. Indira is usually in pain and lives on painkillers.  However, no one has ever seen her other than smiling.  These poems reflect her many experiences.