Ripples
each a reminder
of the passing of relentless time
moving towards the next order
of moments--the heart is a river
where our fleeting dreams and hidden fears drift
our story stops at the last flow
into the indifferent sea--
the outcome of which we can never know

the beginning
is the journey towards the end
our being hangs
on to the in-between of time-then
the ripples become weaker and fewer
quietly they fade away and disappear

1
White swans in the lake
under a bright summer sky
a sparrow flies by

2  
She sang a sad song
her voice was filled with deep pain
she became the song

3

Snail on the flower
housewife appears on the scene
it ends in the bin

4

Rain in the city
umbrellas spread like mushrooms
a little child cried

5

Carpenter at work
sweat all over his body
he took off his shirt





5

FRAGILITY

How fragile is the rose
how brittle the wings of the butterfly
it's sad but true
how soon beauty does fade and die

How tender is our love
every moment that does come by
we strengthen and edify
true love knows no fragility--it's eternal like the sky

Do by the book
who wrote it?
I must have a close look.

Don't stray from here
but who's the authority?
I'd love to hear

Millions follow
( I'm not easily influenced by numbers-
  I don't bother to be in the numerical know)

Do by the book
One more chance we offer you
( you are threatening me--I can sense from your look !)

'Not to be'
is so easy
for me

my life
has been made happy
by 'not to be'

be like others?
that would be
death to me

be more
than myself?
what fallacy!

too many such people
who claim superiority
not for me

too many
with snobbery
I run away immediately

money
big, big money
not my fancy

all my life
I've hidden away
from clubs and high society

'come subscribe to
our philosophy'
they open the door-it terrifies me

'here is immortality'
I'm a humanist
that doesn't belong to me

'now is your last sunset'
its fading lights do you see?'
Ah for once --- yes--let me be !

Some days
I felt like walking away
from myself
to be nothing

the body is a burden
a captive to senses
the mind too vagrant-
self is too demanding

and never ceases
in wanting gratification
it fails to realise
it is creating its own prison

It will be good
some day
when  this self-absorption
time will put away

Darling, sing me that love song
the one you sang when your love you did vow-
do you remember that song?
I've forgotten it now.

Dearest,  that was ages ago
sorry,  I can't remember
shall give my memory a jog
perhaps it would come back never.