in a cosmically laughable accident,
he is born in disorder, created in discord
sent off in a journey he does not understand
but he is already on his way

he can’t stop spinning, unbalanced, unsteady
but there is a path they tell him to take, and
there is a destination he has to reach, and so
he must join the race

and when he tries to breathe like they ask him to,
he suffocates in his own atmosphere,
and everything that once lived within the wells
and dwelled within the rafters,
they had to leave.

but he knows he will never be as beautiful
as the ones who mark the darkness in their
unending pursuit, he will never be as swift,
he will never be angled right, he is too slow
and too small and too weak and

as he misses his entry into orbit,
he realises he never knew why he was born,
nor why he lived, nor why he was dying, but he
hopes that if they couldn’t notice a dying star,
perhaps they might at least remember its absence

and maybe, just maybe, they’d give him a name.

Today, I am gardening my life,
I'll root out  worrisome weeds,
Those thoughts that trouble me,
Cast them aside, those I'd never need.

I'll cut the grass of discontent,
Layer it even, soft, green and sweet,
Smoothen  the furrows,
So I can run content, bare feet.

I'll water seeds planted with love,
Of friends made this year,
Friendships that bloomed,
That make life special, worth living and dear.

I'll welcome butterflies,
And make homes for nesting birds,
With them, taste sun's ambrosia,
Soar and see the world.

I'll bask in the rainbow of colors,
Of blossoms brilliant and bright,
And keep them sheltered,
When they sleep at night.

I'll capture the scented essence,
Of roses, jasmines and lilies
Place them in a jar —
As fragrant memories.

I'll love, rest and spend more time,
Under the shade of the family tree,
Cherish every moment, every minute,
Beneath its precious canopy.

And I'll buy new saplings,
Sow them all carefully in a row,
Of hopes, promises to me and mine,
And tend to them, make them grow.

The sea is still today
It's cerulean blue and gold
I think of the thoughts it carries
Within its hidden folds.
Its touch is soft and gentle
It soothes the ache of years
But I wonder how many waves
Are made from fallen tears.

She's wrapped herself on the wall
With her fragrant pink flowers
In bunches of disheveled disarray

And when the summer wind blows
It sends a gentle floral shower
Of blossoms and scents my way

At night, under the moon and stars
I inhale her. With her I love to be
And though I dally and play with words
There can never be a poem as she.

In the musings of the dark Koel
That perches upon the winding bough
The sun that flushes from the east
Upon the earth's curving brow
In leaves that bend across to brush
The fruit of life that time bears,
The carnation's awakened blush
In the unseen breath of morning air
In swirls of clouds that float across
A placid sky of limpid blue
The ripples on the lake embossed
With dancing drops of sunlit dew
I know His chants, sense His thoughts
I hear hymns of divinity
I see His hand, I feel His touch
Midst echoes of eternity

saw you laying on the sand, winded. no heart marks left.

i ask if you will die in the sun so strong.



you did not answer. the tide was out.



it did not feel hot yesterday,

windy maybe and i got burned.



i watched the sea swell

and ebb.



i returned you had not moved, sand stuck, flies came.



i could no longer see through you

you, beauty.



later that day an adder passed by on the path.

That year caterpillars ate
The Cabbages-

No soup but
A flighty crop

Of White-Winged
Butterflies