Earth Day

Let it be what it should be,

A day of Sunrises, Summery love affairs,

A radiantly lit sky, of enraptured hearts and minds,

A paradise that’s as perfumed as the sprawling gardens of petals,

An entrancing stretch of glistening waters,

A gentle outpouring of springs of grace

Peaceful reverie,

Dancing leaves,

Sunset that arouses the magnificent skies,

Stars that collide with the pristine colours of the night,

A Moon that lights a shadowed night,

Of animals, humans, therein reside,

As we are the renters of a world that’s not solely ours.,

. Let it be as it should be.

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Image result for free images of a beautiful argentinanian woman

Argentina, I have heard about you…

You were of days gone old,

Sultry looks, pouty lips, a sculptured face,

Your sensuousness redeemed a nation’s creed.


Argentina, the crops once grew wild,

Where the wars ravaged the gardens that thrived.

I often thought about the way,

the Americas shook with rage,

At the wickedness that besieged the devout.

Everywhere there were the tireless boredom of cold,

Did you see that,

Men were christened with blood swords,

Women, endowed with beauty bore crowns.

You remain steeped in thought,

Thinking, mastering plans anew,

I know Argentina, you, the simplest yet astounding,

You, the gentlest, yet – you will what is to come.


Argentina, I have heard of you,

Your steps are scattered like seed.

(I wrote this poem sometime back, I hope you enjoy it)


All rights reserved. Copyright@shobana2020

It’s the Holy Week for Christians the World Over.

1000+ Palm Sunday Stock Images, Photos & Vectors | Shutterstock

Today is Palm Sunday, the first day of the Holy Week for Christians the world over.

Well, this year, from the time the restrictive order fell in place, we watched mass live on our television sets. It is not the same. We somehow feel disconnected with Lent.

There is a prevalence of the untimeliness the Covid19 has set upon us. Lent is a time of penance and abstinence, which sad to say, was so lacking. I miss the actual consecration of mass, always, a time of reflection for me.

While writing this, in a world where people are judged by their religion and race, this adage that I follow comes to mind, “Don’t judge me by my religion, judge me for my humaneness, judge me as you would want to be judged. Religion should be used for self-awareness and inner healing. The best religion to follow is “goodness of heart.”

Anyway, Palm Sunday is the final time Christ entered Jerusalem before his crucifixion. He rode a donkey, and people threw palm branches in his path. His arrival on a donkey, shows his humbleness, and is an act of peace, hence why he is known as the Prince of Peace.

So then, like every time there is a catastrophe, people begin to see what it means to be humble, compassionate, understanding, and work together for a common cause.

This is one situation, that people of our time has never experienced. It has opened our eyes to the complexity of an unprepared world. It has brought on a fear so great that nothing else matters but to stay unaffected, to stay alive, to go back to times of past when it was a free world. I think from now on, we have learnt to never take things for granted.

Let’s stand together to eradicate the Covid19 interference in all our lives. It could possibly mean a check and balance to world order.

Have a blessed Holy Week, and let us hope the Easter bunnies bring nothing but good cheer.

Palm Sunday Images: Palm Sunday 2018, Photos, Pictures, Wallpapers ...

It is a collective initiative to save the world – a video

Stay Safe, Stay Home.

It is a collective initiative to save lives throughout the world.

-shobana- All rights reserved. Copyright@shobana2020

Poetry Reading: The Long Road, by Shobana Gomes

POETRY FESTIVAL. Submit to site for FREE. Submit for actor performance. Submit poem to be made into film.

Performed by Allison Kampf


At first glance, it seemed easy,
I, the traveler on a weary road to perhaps fame,
I tamed my mind to think in ways one would want to impress,
But like a toddler taking baby steps,
I fall, struggling to get back on my feet.

The route I took seemed all too ready to steady that feet,
Through stumbling tears, I made my smiles just as effortless,
I cried first, then I laughed,
Isn’t laughter sometimes created from tears?

The road was long, the road was windy,
The road took me to eternity,
I wondered at some point if I would reach eternity, yes, eternity,
But stop I did not, I traveled through time, I traveled through eternity.

There were days when I thought “not a second to waste”
Until one day I realized that it took time to reach eternity,
It was the long…

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The day white collared jobs turned blue!

Is this how it is supposed to be?

Me, after all that arduous studying, graduating, and finally a white collared worker, starting off with a reasonably high income, all because of my studious qualification, now, a confused, tired, needy, and lifeless individual.

I did think, at some point, I would work the hours I wanted and golf for the better half of the day.

Wasn’t that the promise of the illustrious status I had begotten?

Until, some virus taught me that I, a white collared worker, was just another blue collared victim in its eyes.

Until, the same virus taught me that I would have to do a blue collared job to survive the crisis.

Tainted hands, tainted lives! My life as unworthy as the next.

Not for the life of me, did I think that the world would look up to blue collared workers more than me, an MD.

Times have surely changed.

Of course, they needed my expertise, but here the warning signs go off. Who would carry the remnants of the blood-stained wipers, linen or diapers? Who would treat a contagious being. None other than I…

The risk of spread hangs by a thread.

Would garbage truck handlers risk their lives for the betterment of our community, if they aren’t paid. Their humble service a grateful realization to all and sundry, and their way to earn a living.

Who would sweep and clean the streets, if contagious virus pollutes the air? Surely not I.

For today, I am taught a lesson. A lesson in humility learnt the hard way. The cream of the crop no more, I am a danger to all as well as a healer. I have learnt to live my life as a sacrifice, the rewards attained shall be for the betterment of the world, and, not I alone.

Today as presidents, world leaders, royalties, billionaires of the world congregate to find a solution, they have come to realize that to live a healthy, harmonious life, they needed to have embraced bipartisanship, they needed to have destroyed bias, they needed to have decreed self-reliance, they needed to have respected policies, they needed to stop the chase for wealth, they needed to work hand in hand with the poor, instead of trying to infuse partiality to their own ideas and plans to meet their own selfish ends.

These elites have realized that they are just as vulnerable as the man on the street when something as dangerous as a pandemic seeps into society.

Maybe if all the wealth of the world is used to assist the caretakers, medical and social workers, the poor, and needy worldover, thousands of lives can be saved.

-shobana- All rights reserved. Copyright@shobana2020

Leaving A Sigh, A Gentle Hush, A Lullaby

It is so becoming, the Sun’s rising and setting, its reflection on tranquil waters,

They become a union, don’t you think? This reflection…

It masks the sky, the seas, and where clouds appeared once,

They now blend into nothingness.

Camouflaged by the colors streamed through skies,

They create a striking ambience, one that shimmers at a glance,

One that beguiles as they enchant,

One that rises as graceful as the subtle tides.

This reflection…

A vision to many,

A due occurrence to the beholder,

An awesome interference to a worldly corner.

As surely as its timely appearance,

Its departs at an opportune moment.

Leaving a sigh, a gentle hush, a lullaby.


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To the Rose of My Heart

Rose of My Heart

“It is you,” he said, ever so softly,

“You are the rose of my heart,” his eyes shaded with unspilt tears.

The wind did bring it to her ears,

It carried it far and wide, across oceans,

Across mountains, and through rushing tides.

“Catch it, and keep it close to your heart,” he whispered.

She touched the tender wisps of his words that felt soft on her lips.

She heard his voice as a gentle caress,

She caught it, while its softness endeared him to her heart,

Bearing a craving for his love,

To embrace her in the petals of his love, wrapped in rose buds of eternal flame.


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Words do belong to dreamers!

Somedays I escape monotony,

Even in a crowd, I feel such emptiness,

I search, explore and find a way,

To bring soulful reasons to unanswered queries.

Why, does the windchime,

Create a vision paralleled to peacefulness?

Where does the flurry of a disturbed notion,

Go when unheeded, unclaimed & deciphered?

I believe they reside deep in the core of your being,

In a tiny vault that says it all,

“Some questions remain unanswered, till the tide breathes its last.”

Somedays when the wind chime trades its soothing sounds,

With broken hearts,

With a tender call, to rouse a grieved,

Its soulful voice brings harmony.


All rights reserved. Copyright@shobanagomes

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