Blossoms tucked in my hair
Stars in shining eyes 
I turn my face up to heaven 
I smile at raven skies 

Moonlight bathes a sleepy world 
There's moon dust on the skin 
Drenched in milk and cream 
Blooms are a happy pink 

Perhaps a wish I'll make this night 
On a sliver of fallen lashes 
Tonight is a night of magic blue 
Streaked with silver sashes 

I'll sit on clouds of violet 
Down they’ll come for me 
Hitch a ride to a silver star 
And be with the fairies 

The wind will run by my side 
Oh, she will hum a song 
With her I will fly high 
And wake a drowsy  dawn 

I'll run my fingers through the air 
For a rainbow I will crave 
From the dark grey rippling crested sea
I'll pull out a crescent wave

I'll go round stars that burn so bright 
Play fiddle with sterling beams 
Kiss a wish on a resting  brow
And sprinkle happy dreams 

I'll stop for breath on snow clad peaks
Breathe in their pearly glow
Tumble down a curving ***** 
And make angels in the snow

And then back on a  cloud of violet 
The  wind shall whistle her tune 
With dreams like lanterns in my eyes 
I'll be dancing with the moon

Tonight I'll spin on my toes  
Without a thought or care 
For I'll ride to a twinkling silver star 
With blossoms in my hair

I go back in time
as I get a whiff of some familiar scent.

Like the aroma of spices from my mother’s pulao —- the blend of bay leaves, cinnamon, black cardamom and cloves
that left eyes sparkling in anticipation of a royal meal.

Or the scent of fruits
that made their way into my lunch at school - bananas, apples, grapes, oranges
along with an embroidered napkin
that held onto the smell of the season, the love of parents and the comfort of home.

The tanginess of lemons in my father’s cologne —- a burst of summer every time I opened his closet.

The fragrance of roses from incense sticks that my grandmother would light as she prayed —
the mysticism of life in her folded hands.
The smoke would rise from the sticks, curling, to reach heaven along with her prayers -
and I would look upward wondering if God could hear her songs and smell the roses.

The heady scent of rain and earth as we played in puddles
walking and slipping
splashing and laughing
lost in the moment
hearts as light as those drops of rain.

A whiff of these and I travel back in time
I miss the innocence
and melange of those
happy scents and aromas.

It seems like a different world.
And though far away —
It seems like yesterday.

Like a cup of coffee
a perfect brew
you are my morning cuppa 
I am addicted to you 

Or Darjeeling tea 
for which I pine 
aroma in gold 
you're always on my mind 

Like watermelon juice 
a sumptuous burst 
pink and sweet 
you quench my thirst

Or a bottle of wine 
red or white 
you tickle my senses 
in fermented delight 

Now of course 
there isn't much I can do

Dear poetry
I am addicted to you

Somewhere between words and a phrase
And images that waltz on a page
Naked or masked, with a ** and a hum
Read me in the lines of a poem.

Curled up with flair in cursive ink
Or in italics that make one think  
In bold scribble of soulful blues
Meet me in a syllable of haiku.

In sounds and rhyme, in free flowing feet
In rolled up, crumpled paper sheets
On kissed ends or in couplets terse -
Trace me in a little verse.

Midst damp and broken metaphors
In sentences loud or hushed whispers
Hidden behind some quaint smilie
Find me in poetry.

Poesy — a world large enough to hold
Sordid moments in its fold
Sweetness of life and broken hearts
Harsh reality and runaway art.

As I drink my tea
Through the window I see -
The lantanas growing tall
Besides the creepers on the wall.
Orange orbs on stalks of green
A butterfly  - all tangerine -
Suckling blooms, fluttering by
Beneath a cloudless, placid sky.
Flowering trees - no longer ****
Full of colour and ripening fruits.
The world it seems is blossoming
With summer and her offerings.

Sitting pretty on the window sill
Perfect and pleasing to the eye
Facing the rising sun
On a clear blue cloudless sky

Do you dream of open spaces?
Of stretching your arms free
Spreading like the mighty oak -
Or the lofty banyan tree?

Would you your leaves be swept by winds
Your breath carried by rain
Growing in the wilderness
With flowers wild, untamed?

And if I hold you close to me ...
Would I hear your soul cry?
Sitting pretty on a window sill
The perfect potted bonsai

A shining star in the night sky  
A sliver of a moon
The burning wick of a candle in darkness
A bud pushing itself out from the ground
A green leaf on a winter-worn tree
The silver lining in a dark cloud
A rainbow after rain
The first rays of morning sunshine
The light at the end of a tunnel
The promise of a happy ending
The laughter of a baby
The antics of a puppy
A bird in flight
A hand
A smile
The words —
Everything will be all right

Hope
The rope of life
We hold on to
Gingerly
For without hope
Where would we be?

Wayward curls shine in silver
New strands each day I see 
Nothing will ever stop these waves
From greying furiously  

Why then be lost in troubled thoughts 
And hurry those tides of white 
Breathe in and breathe out instead
Let little things delight 
 
Sing of the joys of nascent spring
Dance to a happy summer song 
Paint trees in burnished gold 
Spin tales of leprechauns

Embrace brazen winds that breeze
The earth that holds well-walked feet 
The canopy of light and dusky night 
Where the sun and the moon come to meet 

No tarot reading
No fortune teller 
No crystal ball I see 
Why riddle the eyes with endless thoughts....
What shall be, shall be

I love the word melange
It sounds not-so-ordinary  
Though not so extraordinary
But I feel a notch above the rest when I use it
So much so for being pretentious

And without being rambunctious
I’ll say that I find —
It describes, perfectly, the state of my mind —
Some happy thoughts, some with twists
Some clear ones, some fogged with mist
Some good, others amiss
A curious melange of thoughts
Of that and this
And that, I suppose, is also what life is.

E - Effervescent whispers echo in the wind
T - Tranquil moonlight casts a serene spell
H - Hibiscus toss moonbeams
E - Emerald leaves shimmy
R - Radiant stars gleam in the night sky
E - Enchantment reigns
A - All seems right with the world
L - Love is a possibility

If I were a tuft of cloud
Up in the sky I'd float
Over oceans, rivers, streams
Meadows, glens and moats

I'd be a brush of Ivory
A streak, some fluff, a wisp
An artist's muse on an easel
A song on a poet's lips

I'd see the rising waves and land
I'd hang low on plateaus
I could meet with lofty mountains
Capped with gleaming snow

I would gleam in happy wonder
In the eyes of a curious child
Spinning shapes and fantasies
Within a dimpled smile

Sometimes, I'd hide the sun and moon
Sometimes, I'd bring in rain
Pleased I'd be to lounge and sail
In a sky of blue again

I would be glad to meet you too
Away from the madding crowd
Should you be walking on sunshine
With your head up in the clouds

If I were a tuft of cloud
I'd hum la la la dee dooo
Happy I'd be to lounge and sail
In peace in a sky of blue.

A journey from a city to a small town,
And I thought... I would go down,
(I was nervous, not too many adventurous  bones,
Not everyone, after all, is Indiana Jones..)
A rickety-rackety propeller plane ride,
Tossed and hurled me from side to side.

Amidst jets that sniggered and scoffed,
The propeller plane, nonchalantly, took off.
The gall of the small contraption,
Of their majestic magnitude, just a fraction.
A take off with a war  cry,
A noisy leap  into the sky.
And though perhaps lagging in the race,
He chugged at his own pace…
He rocked and he plunged,
He plunged and he lunged,
He  shuddered and he swayed…
Rather unsteady all the way.
Bullied oft, by  clouds of turbulence,
That looked menacingly dark and intense.
But all the while, in tune,  in sync,
With the wind beneath his wings...
And though I thought he would nose dive,
We landed and we arrived!

Interesting it was to see him share space,
In the hangar, in the sky, while defining his own place.

I would be summer to your heart
And ochre autumn to colour days
Winter too, in all her mystic beauty
And spring in her glorious array

I would be the cool summer rain
That gently falls from an open sky
Or the winter's welcome mellow sun
That warms a face with a smile

I would be too, the heady breeze
That dances and sings melodies
The joy of all seasons that lifts the heart
And shields life neath its canopy



Inspired by -
Edna St. Vincent Millay -I know I am but summer to your heart.

My hair is a tuft of clouds
Who knows
Maybe I could find an angel
Hidden there
Having fallen from the skies

Up and down we gently go
Round and around in a spell —
While the music softly plays
On the carousel.

Up and down on a summer night
Where smiles and laughter dwell
Astride a golden horse and lion
On the carousel.

We'll wave as the world goes by
And carry a tale to tell
Singing a song of childhood
On the carousel

It’s an addiction, an affliction,
And I don’t know what to do,
For I am madly and deeply,
In love with Sudoku.

It’s unnerving, disturbing,
And I am going all cuckoo,
For I can’t take my hands off
A game of Sudoku.

In the morning, I’m yawning,
But my fingers are all glued,
To a pen on a Daily,
Immersed in Sudoku.

A passion, an obsession —
With numbers just a few,
Oh I can’t get enough,
Of this wretched Sudoku.

One to nine, how I pine,
For these numbers in a queue,
On my phone all I see is,
A game of Sudoku.

I run late, miss my date,
In a mess through and through,
My heart full of digits.
And head, of Sudoku.

An attraction, a distraction,
I sigh and sob and rue,
To be so in love,
With a game of Sudoku.

It gets worse, now a verse,
Such a long poem too—
Oh me, oh my,
All for Sudoku.

Rhymed and metered
Or free as a waterfall
Abstract or lucid
Poetry - it’s loved by us all

Rich in images
Or to the point - blunt
Not so verbose
Or lined with puns

We have our own styles
Rambling or terse
Unique and different
Truly di -verse

A little tattered
Broken

A little shaken
Shattered

A little scattered
Rattled  

But a little fixed
Mended

A little patched
Stitched

With gum and glue
Old and new
Needles and pins
Tonic and gin

Up and down
Round and round  

I soared
I dived
I survived

With hope
Though a little weary
With a smile
though part numb —
I wait
wondering what’s to come

I walked past blue mountains,
Beside the crystal stream —
I ambled deep into the forest,
In a mist of emerald green.
Beams of light pirouetted,
Sol’s fire of purity,
Birds preened their wings,
In a shade of serenity.
Whispers rustled in the air,
Earth, water gushed,
A hymn of wind in symphony,
In harmony though hushed.
Midst the song of the forest,
A murmur in the breeze,
My soul, engulfed in silence,
Yet singing . . . at peace.
I stood on firm earthen ground,
At one with trees and ferns,
Knowing it’s from here I come,
And here I will return.

What of relationships that go sour
Let go I suppose
But what if I can’t?
What if I want to mend?
Not throw people away
Like a workman, keep at it
Like a tailor, **** torn clothes
Like a cobbler, sew and patch
Mix binding glue. Fix. Fix. Fix

My Kintsugi


So, I keep searching for what is good
The glass half full
Reasons to hold on
Justify
Belie
I collect
Broken pieces of myself
Shreds of hearts and memories
Of people and pain
Though things may never be the same again

Imperfections. Transience.
Life. Resilience
Whatever

May be one day
I’ll move on. Be stronger.

With life, I’ll flow
May be one day
I’ll learn the art of letting go

In a moment,
things change
Rearrange
Leaving us yearning
for a past
That is gone
That plays like an old,
much-loved song
A haunting melody.


Today is not the same as yesterday
nor will tomorrow be
And this is
how life is
For you and me

It’s
Sweet and bitter
Beautiful and aching
And utterly
heartbreaking

Yet the human spirit
In crevices, finds a flower
Revels in the rainbow after a shower
Holds on to the sun peering through clouds.
Catches a smile in a crowd —
I guess this is what we are about

Monday Tuesday
Wednesday Thursday
Friday Saturday Sunday
Each day
Life gets to you
And what should we do?
Get
Back
At
Life
Too

I rise like the Phoenix from the ashes of despair
like a bird that soars cutting the air

I rise like tides drawn by the moon
flowing in crystal water dunes

I rise like winds that spin in rings 
the dawn of the sun that lights night's wings

Like the luminous moon with it's pearly hue 
a glow that transforms the midnight blue

Like the rainbow in love with golden light 
I rise from greys with colours bright

I ride on waves that surge ahead 
the beat of currents on ocean beds

I soar. I swoop
Yet I rise and rise
Every moment that I breathe 
The breath of life

Blue skies call on me
Clouds float with a toss of their fluff
Ripples ripple in the lake
Birds pirouette to their own songs
The butterflies tango with the roses
The hibiscus sway
A million leaves sashay
The wind taps at my window
Seems to take my hand —
"Shall we…
Shall we dance?"

Every time I’m happy, for reasons I don’t know,
Lights flash in my heart and it kind of . . . . discos.

Why not a waltz, polka, salsa, jive, tango or calypso?
Of all dances, I am not sure why it chooses to disco.

Perhaps, it’s a dance that it can dance on it’s own,
A dance in merry solitude when I might be alone.

Maybe, I grew up in the time when Saturday Night Fever was in tow,
When pop charts went tizzy with songs that’d make the world boom-boom go.

Maybe, my heart beats to the rhythm of life, at times funky, at times slow,
Maybe, it’s in tune with electronic sounds around me — that in a humdrum, flow.

The top left chamber of my heart, leaps, jumps and thumps so,
The bottom right chamber shakes a leg to a psychedelic-lights-show.
My arteries and ventricles throb and pulsate oh . . . OH!
Pumping blood in a sudden rush all the way to my toes.

And like the ever-glittering disco ball, I spin, shine and glow,
Every time I’m happy, my heart jumps . . . And a-dancing it goes

They say that poetry doesn’t sell.

But then is poetry ever on sale?
Is poetry a commodity?
Is happiness on sale?
Is hope on sale? Is love on sale?

A poem could be a chunk of reality. Ramblings of a broken heart. A slice of humour. A beacon of light.

In the darkest of times, I have found poems that in a few words, beam rays of sunshine. That soothe unknown aches and pains. That hold my hand and pull me up. Bit by bit.

I may remain the proverbial ‘poor’ poet with large empty pockets. But poetry enriches me.

It casts a spell.  
So what if poetry doesn’t sell?