Did there a shadow move
a stealthy feet
upon darkening bush?

The deer's woof
races heartbeat
before silence
closes like noose.

Will the pool
that beams the moon
draw a trunk
to the lure of cool?

And upon the wind
without a word
was it a streak
of a passing leopard?

The peacock cries
you're close to the ground
presence is aloud
in the slightest sound.

The jungle glows
in silver light
there are eyes
that spot you right.

Here the pines blush
in the cloud's embrace
the sky comes low
falls for earth's face

the winds kiss
long lines of wood
fog weaves dense
peace of solitude

Here the curves
meanders blind
on magical turns
stumbles mind

all inner demons
the high lands slay
on angel's wings
you fall love's prey.

Time to take a break
Pause the rhyme
Shift the eyes to mountain's height
The mind to inner ravine

Take the eyes off the page
Put a stop to flowing ink
Give the mind the peace of sage
The eyes the soothe of green

Time friends to take a break
Pause play of words
Try to rewind and remake
Fragments of heart

But promise you
If all is well
I'll be back

Refreshed by new
Mountain's tale
Jungle's track

When the dusts settle from the last wheel
and the sickle moon stoops on the bamboo grove
the dead rise in the whispers of the southern breeze.

You may hear them splashing the canal's water
beneath the hazed halo of one quarter
by nocturne music of barn owl and crickets
in lights of glowworms from darkest thickets.

If you stop on the Rotwood Bridge
can hear them sing in gay abandon
though we're now all dead old spirits
the night can't make us anymore forlorn.

The twin moon may from the ripples broken
beckon you and if your spirit awakens
take a plunge for a joyous down go
amid cheers from the watery hollow.

my son is a better version of me

i easily break
he rides storms smilingly

i crumble in a crisis
he handles stoically

my emotions play loud on face
he hides it handsomely

i'm doubtful of exploring
he ventures courageously

i speculate on life too much
he bothers not seriously

After dropping her child at school
the day was a dream only hers
when she could make her own rule
follow it for all those hours.

She would sit on some house terrace
see the busy steps passing by
trying to gauge from their pace
the errands written in their eyes.

She would watch the life of birds
amused how they labored for a nest
and when falling day drew homeward
folded sunned wings into rest.

Spread her eyes beyond the concrete
above the trees far into the haze
where young kites were taught flying feat
by mothers circling the summer blaze.

Everyday all things were renewed
seasons rolled a movie before her
all that even though already viewed
was never bereft of a sense of wonder.

How her hours flew was not known
days turned to years as a rule
her child in no time was grown
no more she needed to go to school.

Deep in the creek
where speckled light kisses the saline shore
and mud hole bubbles leave crab trails
I knock upon her door.

She opens with a whisper on her skin
licks my **** with her southern tongue
winds rise the dusts within
the mangrove falls quiet to her moaning song.

The astrologer speaks with a smiling face
For each of your miseries there’s redress
To calm down the planet subside crisis
There’s a stone to bring back the peace

It’s so clear when I read your face
You’re aggrieved greatly distressed
Fortune is shackled finance on the rocks
Luck is littered with stumbling blocks

On the home front looms a dark cloud
Your progenies aren’t making you proud
The spouse is no help in cutting down cost
In the sea of expense your earn is lost

All your efforts are going for a toss
The grind of job villainous boss
One after other misfortunes strike
Career stalled so is pay hike

But there’s still hope don’t break down
You’ve come to the best in the town
Here you would find at affordable rates
Boost in your fortune by remedying planets

winter chills my bones
fiercer every season

her warmth i seek
with the prayer

O God, let her grow not older

When i snuggle into her
hear her lips' quiver

..........let him grow not older

You forget there's a sky above
Birds don't chirp trees are few
Gone is the hamlet that shaped your love
For a blade of grass cries the morn dew.

Mesh of wires runs over the sky
Air is thick with the reek of petrol
Scare you the trucks heavily passing by
Dazedly you search for the village of the ole.

Here was the home your soul's green abode
Where winter was cold March sprightly Spring
Your feet ran the soil not dusty metaled road
Dreams soared high on boundless wide wing.

Now all around are the townsfolk on race
Ruthless pace crushing ole hamlet's peace
But so is fated by the wheels of progress
That shows the gain more than all that you miss.

Now between writings I create a space
so could read in ease and not in stress
to fill me with things I had less
not let my mind be drowned by pace.

Now between writings I create a space
it lessens the hurry kills the stress
helps to see ways find new address
discover light in untrod recess.

Now between writings I create a space
it shows me the order clears the mess
I think now more write down less
my soul is happy to be out of the race.

Now between writings I create a space
it reinvents ways kills the stress
lets me to places I didn't access
of unseen tears unread happiness.

When the day was dying
I was back to the market.

The last time I was there
haggled with her over the price.

She wanted to sell high
I wanted to buy low.

You win she said at last
I bought high
but have to sell low.

I knew she was lying.

This time she wasn't there.

Someone said
her man had left for another woman
and she hadn't since been seen.

The deepening evening hung like a dagger of pain.

She was never good at bargain.

For her
he was always the man
on the other side of the table.

He was fond of it that way
so he could see her face
read the shades and lights
crack jokes through the grim times
when on the table was little
brimmed plenty in their hearts
and her tears when flowed
were not of unfulfilled needs
but a happiness she couldn’t grasp.

She doesn’t know
what she misses is love
or a mere habit.

She only knows
food doesn’t taste the same
without the man
on the other side of the table.

Brown yellow rusted pages
None read
None would for ages
Lying on the pave

Blurred is the title and name
Lost dream and never born fame
Wisdom of long bearded sages
Dumped in the grave

Dusty old forgotten write
Feasted upon by termite
What to author full of sense
Fetch not any pence

Should I buy take home to read
Not treat it like just **** ****
Spend some time in smelling old
See if bring some gains?

I was seeing many girls
when she stormed into my life
broke my run with her resolve
to find her place as wife.

I was seeing many girls
when she came reined me in
halted me with all her force
determined to win.

I was seeing many girls
my dream was up to stars
when she arrived fully knowing
this man was soon to be hers.

I was seeing many girls
none of them could be wife
she knew it when she came
I would stick on her for life.

the heart feels a gypsy
the mind a vagabond
the eyes get misty
by the lilies in the pond

bloom the petals pinkish
smudged with streaks of white
swaying slow by wind's kiss
glory displayed bright

upon the slender neckline
crowns of innocent smiles
fill all dark with sunshine
wipe out weary miles

o traveler feel the invite
merrily pause to respond
be a while in sunlight
among the lilies of the pond

she dries her hair in sun
in red frock windborne high
dreaming there's one
one day would pass her by

enwrapping in heat
sun licks her oily skin
flows down her lithe feet
craves one peep deep within

tickles her wind's mischief
its murmurs's caress
titillates her like a leaf
paints a rose on face

with her i can spin
yearns in my core
she's sweet sixteen
i'm two scores more

Every bad has some good in it
like silver line round the cloud
a bad isn't bad every bit
has something to make feel proud.

One night on a rainy day
out on my aimless roam
saw a koi that lost its way
caught it and brought it home.

In a bucket it lived two years
no way I would ever regret that
had I on that day chosen to stay clear
it would have been taken by a cat.

Once she bought a bird cheap
back home we soon found out
surely it wasn't a prized keep
was lame in one leg no doubt.

But be sure we chose not at all a wrong
the foot though not cured healed a lot
the budgie would not have lasted long
had its lameness prevented to be bought.

I called the lone parrot passing over my head

from the blue
i won't fly to you
it said

forgot the love i gave?

but you made me your slave
to repeat your chosen line
to voice your chosen tune
my life was not mine

so from the blue
i won't ever fly to you

she affirms the parrot escaped

but i know one dull afternoon in March
she let the bird fly away
being too weary of the chosen line.

Inspector Dork was not pleased with himself

he had interrogated everyone in the house
only to be knocked down by
impenetrable alibi

Spouse Susan slept soundly through the night
and was awakened in the morn
when the alarm bell rang in his room

Daughter Debby's room was a floor down
she was up with her studies
plugged to earphones

Son Simon was out for the night
he was at his friend's place
for a birthday party

Maid Maddie made his bed
when the clock in his master's room
was chiming ten

Butler Bill having served a glass of milk
closed the door behind him
and retired for the night.

Inspector Dork was about to leave the victim's room
when his eyes fell on the clock pendulum

it was not swinging

he knew who was lying.

A year older, a year wiser

A wisdom always in the making
Nourished by experience
Vitaminized by failures
Strengthened by aspirations
Built on the foundation of hope!

Year after year
Brick after brick
Wiser
Cemented by determination
Watered by dreams
Cracked by blows
Repaired by a mason
Working round the clock
Anointing healing!

Get up man.

You are a year older
But a year wiser

And the fruits of this wisdom
Often unseen
Oftener unknown
Ripen inside
And then no more just yours
Scatter in the surround
Beget nurseries of wisdom
Building, vitaminizing, strengthening
Repairing healing
Your foundation
Your hope!

He had to come back.

On a December afternoon
when the sun was more to west,
he landed on the most favorite place of his house,
the roof.

Just as he had imagined
the still winter air was abuzz with life.

Doves were pairing for a home
Green bee-eaters swooped on insects
Two herons kept following the grazing cow
Crows were busy with twigs and wires
High up beyond where paper kites could soar
Storks slow sunned their wings wet from the jhil
The cats warmed their furs before the cold night
The stray puppy gamboled with its mother.

Each piece had perfectly fitted the other
including the silently sleeping house.

He was tempted to walk down once
has she changed any little way?

He smiled to himself
then breezed away from the roof.

Merry Christmas, the voice greets me
humbug I mutter under breath
greed hatred jealousy
only things you live with.

Keep to yourself your mirth
I sullenly brood
such lies are too heavy for this earth
done this place no good.

Relations under cloud of doubt
each soul bears a grievous injury
merriment had long gone out
the greet is just empty.

It's a pity you still find it merry
with all the injustice inequity
men classified quartered
children for food bartered.

Merry doesn't the word stink
while some choose what to drink
fuss about the flavor to savor
many reach it by miles' labor.

Merry can't hide away the glum
of human habitats in dingy slums
strewn on pavements under open sky
breathing refuses left to die.

Still, Merry Christmas to you, says the voice
the time is to give and rejoice
the world though truly is what you say
haven’t You, I, We, made it that way?

High atop the spire beneath a cloudless sky
the Cross stands forlorn Christmas is nigh
since long in the past time beyond recall
no bells chime here sung no carol!

But still its heart flutters as it hears the Lord's voice
I carried your burden and set for you the choice
to do this world much good and love your fellow men
be happy in others' happiness take share of their pain!

Kind Lord mutters the Cross men still live for gain
act the way it seems your blood was shed in vain
they war and breed hatred between them raise wall
hanker for pelf and power in their loss they squall!

The church lies abandoned starkly white and bare
only the Cross bows to the Lord in silent prayer
still hoping it's not far away when the bells would ring
the Lord would carry the Cross on his second coming!

off the asphalt
five miles down south
she catches prawn

her skirt the catching net
feet quietly feather weight
she looks a muddy heron

beneath sky grayish pale
swimming wind with fishy smell
on her no man's patch

intent on her solo search
head bowed down cutely arch
she must have her catch

streaks of mud on her hair
only what she does care
a bunch of wriggling store

fire it up when day is dead
have the catch thinly spread
and nothing more

Our poems are fabrics

knit with the dreams inside
laid out in the open
so may a passing eye
grant a glance

a pausing mind
decides for a fleeting moment
to wear

thinking them their own.

You couldn't believe
so quiet could be the croc
its eyes a wise sage
scales rigid rock

lay frozen on the mud
no flies could stir
stubbornly in trance
mind elsewhere

sixteen feet in size
dumb cool in creek
in the hermit's guise
lamblike tender meek

pounce it does when needs
not preys on what eats not
the human hunter feeds
on hatred and whole lot.

Merry revellers
cast one glance on me
before your mind wavers
throw me one penny

My eyes are deep in socket
but ears are sharply keen
catch jingles in your pocket
silver's pompous din

Pray not be too aloof
need a lil of your pity
a penny can't buy a roof
can buy a crumb for belly

It wouldn't hurt you much
for one less from too many
merry revellers before you rush
toss my way one penny.

She doesn't recite poems in the darkish sunset

like golden corns dying to be reaped
she needs a hand to cut her through
reach to where a fleshless lust is still not ember.

Seasons come and fly away.

Her own poems withering
she pines for one simple nest
to rest.

familiar with all weather
broken rims of existence
soliloquies of despair
rainfall in silence

ripples of loud mirth
echoes of joyous feet
stillness of nightly earth
tunes of bitter sweet

romance of blind hearts
oaths of porcelain
stains of leftovers
fragments of bruised skin

lying in broken stones
living on river's face
nothing the ghat owns
but its loneliness.

Unburdens the dusky river

dreams of flow dead in the bog of hyacinth
harvest burnt in the scorch of aridity
ripples robbed by the silt of dogma
sunbeam denied by the **** of creed

I was meant to reach the sea,
now I would never make it.

I pick the river's shattered pieces
with my own from the wintry dusk.

she speaks of hills
from times passed behind

of cloud capped tops
and snow capped peaks

can't we go back once
where wind stole my stole
and you chased down the wind

clouds dipped to see me blush
as you wrapped my heart warm

can we go back once

the yaks may still be grazing
time may still be standing

by chance.

you never see a ghost
except inside your fear
what you see at most
is an apparition unclear.

flickering lantern lights
casting shadows on the wall
were your childhood frights
in the half lit nightly lull.

you couldn't tell them lies
tales that grandma spun
glowworms were ghosts' eyes
that closed with morning sun.

they made a place in your head
broke all your resolves weak
eerie patterns moonlight made
wind's howls in bamboo's creak.

when the nights came
clock ticks gave a scare
you had to believe in them
you knew they were there.

are they now all dead
fantasy of child's mind
monsters below bed
footsteps heard behind?

some fears you still own
strangely hold them firm
and when you are alone
seek grandma's safety arm!

Leave your slippers at the counter
said the watchman at the gate
an empty sack I put them in
entered temple on bare feet.

The walls were carved in fine granite
idols beamed in marbled shine
incense filled the ethereal light
breathing the air was purely divine.

After about a charmingly spelled hour
in lithe spirit I came out of temple door
presented the token at the shoes counter
poured the sack's content on the floor.

A strange pair mockingly looked back
not mine I shouted at the top of my voice
rows of sacks stared back from the rack
home barefoot wasn't a prospect to rejoice.

Obviously a wrong token was issued to me
the slippers therein belonged to someone else
and there I was arguing awkwardly
cursing high pitch over temple bells.

It took five minute's terror to find them out
so my feet could kiss the familiar smell
though not much something to write home about
those were the moments paradise felt hell.

Where's your lady?
asked the chimpanzee
the bear looked askance

the tiger growled
zebras rolled
macaws looked in trance.

Where's she
your lady pretty
queried the lone rhino

it's not good
this solitude
roared the lion with raised eyebrow.

Did you lose your way
this November day
when the sky's blazing blue

this fair weather
you aren't together
how come asked the shrew.

Your face it shows
shouted hippos
this fine day of November

boars did grunt
scowled elephant
you're lost without her.

They were so true
alone at the zoo
emptiness surrounded me

daylight though gold
sky blue bold
I roamed unhappily.

She counts her shells

her feet sand ribbed
her toes ricely white
her hair windy vagabond
her eyes low tide sea.

She gives me back my years.

Through tears
I count eternity.

There're endless ways to write
give vent to a joy or to pain
heavy stuff or childly light
sunshine or broken sky's rain.

It depends on the day the mood
good times or bad on the way
shapes the words your attitude
color them the way you want to say.

Endless are the ways to fill the page
rhythm and structure and rhyme
clear as daylight or a maze
depends how you're treated by the time.

You choose from the collage endless
words that may sadden entertain
when broken you may choose to show a face
that by lighting smiles lessens your pain.

In schooldays my aim was terribly perfect
add to that an attitude unfair
a soft teacher was an easy found target
not one bald head was allowed to be spared.

The moment the poor man turned to blackboard
his baldness shined as a gaming site
the sleeping devil woke up and deep roared
dispatched were chalks on windborne flight.

Only a few did land on wrong place
but found mostly their rightful targets
and bore no qualm the thrower's face
when cheered by the fellow classmates.

As the victim turned with ire's full steam
nursing stings that came with good force
we in the gang were such an honest team
never revealed it came from what source.

It went on smooth till luck failed one day
has to end all games one once starts
a traitor midst us the secret gave away
memory of the thrashing badly hurts.

Something I would tell you son
that's only known to me
a burden it is knowing alone
it's time I share with thee.

Shocking was what he revealed to me
tragic too was the tale
of a woman's loss of dignity
her passing thru fire of hell.

Her I have held in high esteem
her sanctity locked in trust
never knew she was a sad victim
of a man's monstrous lust.

My father felt it would only be fair
it needed him just to be brave
with son the secret he must share
not carry alone to the grave.

I hold it now that grave secret
father left his job was done
burdened with a heavy weight
that I can't share with son.

The woman she is still alive
knocking on ninety's door
her skin a shade of dried beehive
she remembers not anymore.

When the day is done
the sunburned moon
breaks down on the lonely river.

Glistening in her tears
the river carries her away to the sea.

beyond the lighted city
past the festive crowd
beneath the melancholic halogen
outside the shut doors and windows
upon a lane paved with garbage
amid an air stenched with *****
between two wooden wheels
head resting on holed rexine
arms limply down from heaven
feet embracing the dirt
sleeps another night
from the ashes of day
dreaming just enough
to muscle
another
morn.

By the time we reached the final act
our dialogues turned to whispers
warmed us the pledge to the silent pact
we would be rehearsing under the stars

dew would damp the players' cloth
all but the two were gone
who were tied by the burning oath
must shape their roles to perfection

owls hooted in the night's shadow
world slept behind shut door
we were numbed to the time's flow
by the sounds of claps encore

one the alien had blood thick green
that only the ****** revealed
when unbeknownst was cut his skin
by the other soon to be killed

that time now ***** to yellowed page
long back fate set him free
my skin is now bold in age
he's evergreen in memory.

I'm coming from afar
I tell the woman
the last time I came
I could walk straight to the river
now monsoon mud has made a mess
can only glimpse the river's face
is there still a way on dry feet?

She raises her eyes
no way she says
it's all shrub and slush
but you can have a look at my garden
pomelo and papaya,
gourd and green banana,

I haggle over price
wouldn't settle for less than a bargain

she smiles all the way
succumbs with ease
for the take a bag too she gives.

As I leave her on the falling day
I feel no loss
not finding the river's way.

Bangshi looked at the rolling gold before him.

Not a day would be without two square meals this year,
the surplus produce would earn him good money.

It was then his eyes fell on the thin little girl.

She belonged to somewhere else
always seeking something from the sky
showing little but her ribs jutting from dark skin
and if she ever swam her limbs in the wind
she would run up to the pond
to catch the reflections changing with the hourly light.

Her home wouldn’t see harvest this year
as her father had been ill for months
that could only mean starvation for the family.

Bangshi followed her eye to the sky
autumn blue without a speck of cloud
but for a spot of rain gathering in a corner of his eye.

What if instead of selling the surplus
he shared it with Malini’s family?

thirty years is too thick a cobweb
says the Shepherd at the Bourne
though I know you're looking for her youth
and you aren't alone
how old was she? twenty?
red bindi and sari on head
newly wed ravishingly pretty
but no negatives I'm afraid
a few come up these creaking stairs
love's martyrs long survive
hold fore me their hearts bare
count on my archive
like you they seek that fateful face
where time stands evergreen
lost path invites one more retrace
a rewind to youthful skin
I tell them time's too thick a cobweb
with you I too grieve
sorry sir I have no negative
nothing's left to retrieve.

a sad poem for my dinner
one gloomy for day meal
my smiles are getting thinner
dying my living will.

give me some fun write
am crying all the while
break me if you might
break me into smile.

a dark poem for my dinner
a crier for breakfast
my joys are getting thinner
sunshine is into rust.

make me one a fun read
a sparkler jolly bright
so joyous tears quickly roll
blur words from eyesight.

My relation with her
inhabits a silent space,

you don't need to talk much
below the ocean's surface,

it's like a rest after your work is done
an earned breather after a long run.

Now it's holding hands and swimming together
having seen all the weather.

Cinnamon and black grey
breaks the summer's doze
the voice gives away
it's sitting somewhere close.

The shade of a mango tree
that rests the wings from sun
breaks the day busy
to a lonely space for one.

In its eyes black bead dark
solitude wears a skin
a sadness makes its mark
of a silent cry within.

It dips beak deep for preens
cleanse that's daily a chore
another day quick spins
shadows are longer more.

reading this morn's newspaper was different
said the father to his son
the prints are loud and bold
alphabets glitter as gold
crystal lucid is the page
and from the balcony,
whee, i can see every tree
without the haze.

the next twenty four days
he  was joyously rediscovering a world
in the exuberance of one reborn
only missing the car that ran him down
on the twentyfifth morn.