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 Nov 2019 Juhlhaus
Sylvia Plath
Out here there are no hearthstones,
Hot grains, simply.  It is dry, dry.
And the air dangerous.  Noonday acts queerly
On the mind's eye erecting a line
Of poplars in the middle distance, the only
Object beside the mad, straight road
One can remember men and houses by.
A cool wind should inhabit these leaves
And a dew collect on them, dearer than money,
In the blue hour before sunup.
Yet they recede, untouchable as tomorrow,
Or those glittery fictions of spilt water
That glide ahead of the very thirsty.

I think of the lizards airing their tongues
In the crevice of an extremely small shadow
And the toad guarding his heart's droplet.
The desert is white as a blind man's eye,
Comfortless as salt.  Snake and bird
Doze behind the old maskss of fury.
We swelter like firedogs in the wind.
The sun puts its cinder out.  Where we lie
The heat-cracked crickets congregate
In their black armorplate and cry.
The day-moon lights up like a sorry mother,
And the crickets come creeping into our hair
To fiddle the short night away.
If you were here, I'd sing to you
You're on the other side, as the skyline splits in two
I'm miles away from seeing you
But I can see the stars from America
I wondered, do you see them too?
So open your eyes and see
The way our horizons meet
And all of the lights will lead
Into the night with me
And I know these scars will bleed
But both of our hearts believe
All of these stars will guide us home
All of the stars( ed sheeran)
 Jun 2019 Juhlhaus
Kalarav
Pour
 Jun 2019 Juhlhaus
Kalarav
We have the privilege
to romanticise rain.
We talk about the cold breeze,
the soothing sounds
of falling droplets
and the feelings
that are evoked within us.

However, to some others,
rain simply means
a cold sleepless night.
Rain, to them
is like an uninvited guest,
who finds its way through
cracks and holes
and sits uncomfortably close.
A guest who leaves
only when they please.

To some others
rain is like an old friend
who's face they can no longer
remember.
They don't even remember
the last time they met
because it did not seem
like an incident
that was important enough
to commit to memory.
If only they had known
that it was the last time
in a long time...

And the ones who farm
to feed us all
pray for rain
that is just enough.
Not too less or too much.
And when it pours,
the elixir flows
to quench the thirst of doubts
'will there be yield?'
'will my children eat?'
A reassuring yes.

So, the next time
rain runs towards you
and drenches you
with an affectionate hug,
embrace it
and let it be no stranger.
 Jun 2019 Juhlhaus
Kalarav
The air might be shapeless, colourless and odourless,
But the winds, they always have something to show,
something to say, something to convey.
Today's winds told me about the coming rains.
They howled to complain about climate change.
They sang songs with the wind chimes.
Then they brought the smell of wet mud as it rained.
Just like yesterday.
The only thing that has changed is that they no longer
carry your scent.
They no longer carry the sound of your voice to my ears.
Familiar and yet so strange,
I guess that is why they are called winds of change.
 Jun 2019 Juhlhaus
YAYATHI
Abandoned at a sandy beach,
Bleeding sunlight through the countless cracks,
I , a lone catamaran,
Stared at the infinite ocean.

The sun is coming down.
The seagulls are flying to eternity.
The lighthouse far away has started blinking
And the winds are returning home.

Gone are the days of stormy adventures.
So, are the laughters on the day of good catch.
I miss the uncertainties of tempest,
And the ballads of ******.

A sunset is the most poignant moment in the life.
All your memories out there to enchant you,
Life is all frolicking around you,
And you stare soulless, into a receding red ball.

I yearn to break free of this inaction
Push away the stack of stones holding me back.
And glide down the wet slippery sands
Out into the frothing foam of life.

Let me float anchorless where the ocean takes me.
Let the storm toss me up in the air
Let the waves batter my hull
Let me capsize in the blue salt water.

And then.... there would be peace.
Its monsoon in my part of the world. One day during my morning stroll I saw this catamaran parked ashore. It oozed solitude and melancholy

The next day I saw that the wild sea has taken it and  it had capsized and was being tossed around in the waves. A sudden sense of empathy gripped me
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