people that mattered didn't stay,

i begged of them not a day
or a night together,

some while,

a pause eye on eye,

hint of a smile
glimpse of a cry,

but they weren't easy,

people that mattered were too busy,

shadows moving, moved away,

while i begged of not a day
not a night together

only a while
eye on eye

to make things better.

i sit across her
on the round table

i see her delicate hands
twirling on the spoon
on this ethereal summer noon
when she looks incredibly pretty
beneath the cobwebbed ceiling
amid the Doppler noise of the city
her eyes on the coffee
and mine on her.

i feel uneasy when i act good
feel upon shoulder a weight
what if next time i ain't that good
and your expectations are not met.

there's a liability in acting good
for it easily makes you a brand
if next time you ain't that good
you invite a strong reprimand.

tempts me easy to act ever good
be the pleasantest man in the town
but lurks the fear if ain't always good
in all eyes i would soon go down.

it extracts a price trying to act good
as your image in no time shines bright
but for each instance you ain't that good
you walk the sharp edge of spite.

it sniffs for the sweet breeze of Florentine
when all around are flies on rotten meat
can vaguely feel being the last of its line
as slowly falls silent sounds of heartbeat.

its fading eyes seek the far off moorland
feet still echo the long runs on limestone
in the deep woods where giant trees stand
a home where never would rest its bones.

in delirious dreams it stalks at the night
hunts for preys chasing opossums rabbits
itself haunted by looming shadowy fright
of fires that brought down all of his mates.

it's so cold out here with the sun ever far
limbs ice frozen to hold the shaking frame
only frail groans and no one to hear
for man the hunter it was another game.

one day i'll wed you
said the child to the girl much older than him.

echoes of her laughter rippled the winds
planting a rose on the child's cheek.

the child said knowing nothing about wedding
and nearly nothing about her
except

she filled him with a vague feeling
that made him wait to see her
when she was not around.

she was lost many decades ago
and the child moved far away
from that wedding vow.

the news came through the wind
she had died of cancer
somewhere far from homeland.

the child still dreams
her laughter rippling the winds
echoing by the lake

remembers his wedding vow
on that summer noon
still knowing nearly nothing about her.

like dead leaves they fall
to the scissors ruthlessly mean
some on the ground aimlessly crawl
some in the air spin!

drooping eyes rue losing them
so does the lightened head
a sigh falls for all those slain
with little chance to be remade!

quietly drop on the white linen
the slaughtered by considered choice
once nurtured upon the brain
erstwhile silken joys!

a breezy walk out in sunshine
can't take the weight off mind
somewhere inside is heard a crying
of the ones scattered behind!

suppose you aren't assured of the next meal
upon your head rules the sky
maggots are feeding on your free will
better seems the option to die.

suppose you've none to give company
not a soul to call your own
days seem to crawl with no hurry
nights only make you more alone.

suppose open road is where you stay
sometimes a tree to beat the sun
people are bent on moving away
you've no home for day-end run.

suppose you've nothing called privacy
can't afford the luxury of shame
you relieve yourself for all to see
don't recall if you ever had a name.

suppose you've to scavenge from dustbin
your dignity is trampled like road's dirt
could they all make you feel a poem within
write a line crystalline in your heart?

she is seen to appear in moonlit nights
in her bridal dress and sparkling jewelry
though the sparkles may just be fireflies
and her bridal dress a will-o-wisp
silhouetted by the playful moon
smiling in broken ripples on her toe.

she stands on the pond's edge
gazing at the crested sparks of moon
fathoming the depth of the grey slime
where he once reached to lay in peace
and she followed through fireflies and ripples
leaving in the winds her echoes.

Mad Mark fancied
Maddie was in love with him
though he had seen her in the park
with Parker madly kissing her
saw her giggling
when Job jabbed her ribs
found her in tight embrace
of Mr. M. Brace
and saw the Schneider's butler
pinching her ****
and once chanced upon her legs sticking out
from a bush in Mr. Bush's villa.

Mad Mark was still not deterred
from fancying
Maddie was in love with him.

Of the many girls i thought loved me
she stands out boldly.

She knew how to weave
herself into elusive

raise the bar
just when i thought i reached her

quietly recede
when i picked up speed

use my gift
to give me a lift

remind what was hers
was in my purse

convey
her generosity was a day away.

As i recall
she took my all
and left me a wreck.

She was my Miss Take.

i never heard of the golden ratio
or any of the beauty's rules
was in love with her in one go
needed no measuring tools.

i fell in love not with her look
with the proportions on her face
i didn't go by any rule book
just loved her in her wholeness.

never cared if her lips had a pout
the distance between her eyes
the length between her eyes and mouth
i was lucky not being that wise.

a feeling sparked in the core of mind
in my eyes she settled as a star
her attraction though was undefined
i fell in love with her.

In the height of summer
The pond shrunk to a hyacinth heart.

The kingfishers left for crystal streams
Village belles no more washed their hidden shames
Kids broke their frolics on her kissing splashes
And men dipped not in her to whisper secrets.

She prayed to hold through all the pains.

The sky heard her and sent her rains.

in the attic on my way to the roof
pick up the two newborn kittens

their frantic mews at this alien invasion
draw the mother who knows me well

in her owl eyes are written
though love smitten
don't cuddle them too much.

past them i move to the roof.

on the mango tree
the crow nest is empty.

was my bonding with the two chicks
for those weeks
a waste?

dusk falls with a sigh
heavy on my chest.

Madame Blaine isn't happy.

Every night his apparitions appear
and they're getting darer by the day
(sorry, by the night).

Her fault she didn't tell him to go
the first few days on the southern window
rather she felt bad as he stood out there
thought it better to offer him chair.

His hesitation stoked her kindness
not much she would lose if sat face to face
recapitulating life they were together
barring the first few spent talking the weather.

Once in the room he gave her his ears
(or so it seemed)
as she talked of loneliness with hint of tears
blinking and nodding an occasional sigh
but not once offering a courtesy of reply.

He would sit unobtrusive in the gentlest manner
till his proposal last night dropped the sky on her
(sorry, the ceiling)
the first words he spoke shattered her peace

May I Diane, offer you a kiss?

She fumbled to decide an aye or a nay
silence was all her voice could say
the apparition rose to grab the moment
reading in her muteness a loud consent.

Since then she is wondering if she can boast
of having been kissed by one now a ghost
or hide within her as an indelible shame
an indulgence that could earn her bad name.

leaves ecstatically ***** on the dollops
totter with the melody of the patter
pass the cascades one upon the other
invite the soil to join in the chorus!

dance in merriment their joyous heart
drink it all up not a drop to go waste
between each thunder while the clouds part
hold the sky's treasure deep in the breast!

sing the note of life buried in the ground
nurture each seed for the unbroken chain
scatter the dreams string them skybound
what's once here would come back again!

when the blue returns tinged with gold
leaves would glisten in pearly necklace
they won't be there when the story is retold
yet veins would throb in the rain's embrace!

as i drew the curtains
felt a crawl on my hand
that fell on the bed as i ******.

then saw the other of the pair.

i shoved the duo out of the bed
hoping they won't land so far
as to not find again one another.

past my initial reaction
i felt ashamed of the stupid act
and remorse,

for having wasted the time
it took them to be close.

can't say have found it
though trying every bit
now in broken wing

an eluding greying wish
one thread of missing piece
i'm still searching.

from all the cluttered mess
doors windows address
sky and trodden ground

beg this weakening arm
to have it hold it firm
what's nowhere to be found.

from surround's all the sight
daylight darkened night
milky way and stars

seek these rolling eyes
unravel from disguise
that hidden universe.

feebled though this mind
crushed by daily grind
inching to depart

might one day lift the shroud
hear its voice speak loud
reach the mystery's heart.

what's there to write about
a floor scrubber?

in the sun on my shoulder
its light plastic touch
polythene wrapper
gaily fluttering in the wind
breathing its last light of freedom
before consigned to lifelong prison
standing damp dreaming to dry
but for that fleeting time
it rests on my shoulder
comforted on flesh and bone
on the brief journey
from the shop to a nook
enjoying the glances of passerby
curious my carrying it
a hint of boast in my gait
flaunting as if a magic wand
the floor scrubber transient yet eternal
a glorious poem material
a poem name
and a man's declaration

there's no shame
doing your work
your way.

it's easy to give up writing
have done it quite oftentimes
to focus on harder things
and not waste on easy rhymes!

each time i give up the pen
achieve some wonderful feat
i am that man once again
who does for others little bit!

whenever give the keys rest
close the door of poetryland
come upon a chance not to waste
to extend someone a helping hand!

times i clipped the bard's wings
landed my mind on the ground
met these eyes many things
doing which joys knew no bound!

when did i last spend a good time?

a second, a minute, an hour, a day
one undiluted, unmixed, pure, and raw,

a good time, truly good, without a flaw.

was it those moments of ******* height
when sans one sense, all else was dark night

or the time spent brief in her warm embrace
seeking her moons reading map on her face

it could be the while when a gust of joy
made this heart shine like a boy

a flashing streak of event that lit up the soul
from pieces of fragments revealed the whole

getting from a girl her kiss of innocence
drench with her in first summer rains

reaching a heaven from far firmament
by a smile from the boy a dime i lent

turning that page of a now lost time
when this mind first chanced upon a rhyme

they rush like tide set me to brood
from the budding child to the aging manhood
where in the memory now thick with grime
lies hidden the passing of the last good time!

being the topper in the class, he developed certain pride
that the envious derided, ignored flatterers on his side.

the first bench was his permanent place
from where shone his haloed face
when the teachers spoke seemed it thus
there was only him in the whole class.

all questions he took the answers he knew
solved hardest sums others had no clue
not once an intruder could invade his space
he shined in glory of his flawlessness.

from him was never unfinished homework
ruthlessly made on exams his mark
was taken for granted he would win first place
the rest of the herd would just run the race.

the teachers indulged him the pride of the class
but you know all fame are fragile like glass
it so happened a new teacher joined the school
unbiased he was not to blindly toe the rule.

he asked the first boy if he had ever flown a kite
played marbles on road picked up a fight
if ever he had walked barefooted on the grass
stole a look at sky bunked even one class.

if he had ever chosen to close the book
hid him alone in the scariest of nook
scanned the horizon to catch first moonrise
counted the stars bamboo grove's fireflies.

he looked nonplussed didn't utter a word
anything than studies he hardly bothered
had he answered it would all have been *no
to him most precious was his place at front row.

he bowed his head down with ashen face
for the first time in class he failed to impress
what happened next was no riddle to guess
that teacher was gone without a trace.

I stand by the period bed
where Dupleix rested his head,
wondering at his kind of life,

if he lay there with wife
or some native maid.

doesn't hint his bronze bust
if he lay there bare
in ebullient lust

stirred by a girl darkly thin
bowing himself to her embrace
finding in his war beaten mind, happiness,

or, there wasn't any such thing,
he lay there staring at the ceiling
far from even one warm kiss
storming his brain to defeat the British...

I think of the kitten that survived a few days,
it still pains.

In the museum, I rhyme dust with lust.

in the land of the white
live too the black men
apparently with equal right
but with covert disdain.

why couldn't the world be one place
when we are all from common gene
where humanity is the only race
across the color of skin.

in the land of the black
live too the white men
apparently of the same pack
but on a different plane.

why couldn't the world be one landmass
when we rose from one origin
where being humane is the only class
across the color of skin.

in the land of the white
live the white men
among them aren't equal right
exist disparity and disdain.

why couldn't the world be one unit
when together we all once had been
where brotherhood is boldly writ
across the color of skin.

in the land of the black
live the black men
among them oneness they lack
the inequalities still remain.*

why couldn't the world be one creed
where mankind lives as one kin
the white and the black can only read
love across the color of skin.

i loved her at first sight
if you ask how
the answer is all white
not one point till now.

was i too fool a guy
did i make haste
right now can't tell you why
that boy knows the best.

that boy who held his gaze
right on her face
read there in his daze
written happiness.

if you ever find him out
you may ask him how
he loved the girl at first sight
and loving her till now.

a funny game i wanted to play with me

writing poem within mouth holding
a seed of blackberry.

the fruit was fleshy sweet
till tongue exposed its bone
staled, made it insipid,
as if, was never grown.

spit it out i could not do
that seed utterly dry
for i had given word to you
a poem to write must try.

as i thought up cutish rhyme
that must pleasure fetch
****** grew the seed with time
my mouth was messy wretch.

my tongue was thick of blue
too intense was my plight
but i had given word to you
must hold till end of write.

it's over now this awkward game
what a relief to throw it out
and never again shall i write a poem
with a blackberry seed in mouth.

Her wails rent the air

O God how unfair you are
to have snatched him from me
the only man that truly cared
never treated me badly.

Without him is a life to grieve
empty meaningless
take me too O God relieve
this pain of no redress!

Shouldn't we bring a costly cot
of mahogany or such wood
asked the men what was her thought
about carrying her man so good.

Shouldn't the pyre be of sandalwood
the fuel a pure ghee
your husband ma'am was a man too good
to be burned ordinarily.

She paused a while frowning dark
a shadow passed her face
a hint of wince made its mark
a pall of uneasiness.

He's gone to never return
the onus is now on me
to run the days with meager earn
and not spend wastefully.

ordinary wood would burn as good
kerosene would do well
prudence demands not one should
be lavish in funeral.

your behavior is ******, she writes to him,
you're a boar, without a cure,

my good ant Anna often asks me,
how the hail i except you,

she says you belong to that banned of men
that effect a woman's life badly

she also suspects you of elicit affairs
goes on to ad you are to me not fare
and we too don't make a good pare

its about time we go our own weigh
since we don't feet each other at all.

i'm sorry though
i had to pain you this heartful later

but bitter swoon than letter.

p.s. thank god i mate the man who scares and laughs me more than you.

the July sun stabs her cheeks pink rose.

where is that wooden bridge i ask her
some way more she says some way more

she never forgets.

the bridge was half finished the last time we came
left us longing what mysteries the other side held.

i think the water has eaten it up
tides are so fatal you know

no way she says only some way more.

then it shows up

six months of wooden planks
six months of waiting
now proudly hanging on the river in spate.

let's go on the other side she cries
in wind scattered voice
her hand upon my shoulder rests.

her way she never forgets.

they dress up the dead.

he doesn't move from his place of peace
savors the incense's aromatic bliss
adorned with flowers robed in white
ready to take off for the final flight.

the mourners breathe in whispers low
head bowed down cheeks wet in flow
muffled sobs seek shoulder's rest
bid adieu pray soul be blessed.

*this morn i found one chick dead cold
born too in a cage a few days old
the lone mourner of a severed bond
i picked it up and threw to the pond!

write a poem everyday
make it a daily habit
note whatever you've to say
the bitter or the sweet.

stare at the screen before you
or the page if it's so
there's always something new
awaiting your ink's flow.

some you've to dig not much
a few need delving deep
some may feel like feather touch
a few would make you weep.

sometimes the hand would just not move
at other would run like horse
sometimes the words would sing and groove
cry out like waves' roars.

while you write you may bleed
or kiss the blue like bird
jotting down is all you need
the inner voice that's heard.

he's a much sobered man
when he's drunk

words then flow with elan
he's a jolly hunk.

he's a much sweeter pal
tipsy when he is

nice and warmly liberal
he puts you at ease.

does it so smooth
each inspiring peg

no more uncouth
he's no more a dreg.

when drunk he's at his best
never was a kind sweeter man

unburdened of his heavy breast
he kisses long ignored woman.

when boozed he's passionate no doubt
the hidden emotions are in spate

his heart freely speaks out
opens his secret's floodgate.

next morn he can't just recall
why stands an empty goblet

he lies in smell of alcohol
worries aren't light on his chest.

push harder, harder, she moans,
drive it a great more in

dig deeper break ya my bones
rupture my last wall of skin.

push harder, the farthest it goes
where pulsates the throb of my core

blooming red petals of rose
are dreaming for limitless soar.

push harder, harder, inside
drive in, inner, far more

fill me in thick rain of ride
till i feel empty no more.

When I return home
bird chirps nest breaks rest
smiles waft free windborne
air wears look of fest.

Babbles she how was day
if I had timely meal
or forgot in rhyme's play
doubt she always will.

Merrily she chats her mind
tidbit honest gossips
weariness recedes behind
break in smile my lips.

Betwixt I slowly undress
she wants not a word missed
I don't leave her place
sit in towel for twenty minutes.

Can't say when sweats dry up
spent is this sweet span
cold gets hand's teacup
by warmth of heart's woman.

a tree house let's build
tucked amid the leaves

where no will is unfulfilled
for the soul to ever grieve.

up away from madding noise
create a cave of peace

where tears flow of pure joys
nothing feels amiss.

far from the rush of town
high on windy space

where blissful hearts without frown
pure love harness.

let's make that home on tree
out of reach of race

for the mind to bloom carefree
in forever happiness.

It's only when
you are in the other room
realize how much you love her.

Stings you the pain
sinks you the gloom
the void seems impassably far.

You wish could walk back to her
cover the space  with a run
look her eyes' dying star
plant there a risen sun.

The other room chills your bone
cripples you with fear
here you are terribly alone
with the hatch shut forever.

Pause before that long distance
where love meets its doom
for hardly is a second chance
once you enter the other room.

LEAVE HATRED OUTSIDE MY DOOR
WHEN YOU COME IN*

this Notice boarded on my door
seems to have done little to impress.

the ones that come in
still read from the hate book.

speak ill of others behind their back
curse those they don't agree with
spew vitriol against all not their own
criticize food habits and dresses
castigate the new generation
find fault with the old
generalize on the basis of race religion
trifle faith belief sentiment
envy for what they don't have
intensely dislike assumed disabilities
even a squint a stammer a mole a limp

more passionate in degrading than appreciating
systems, processes, relations, actions, attitudes.

people won't mend, behind them i think,

they're so ****** disgusting.

when torn clouds bared blue holes
the river brimmed with ecstasy.

it had rained the whole day
and she was bursting in seams
to tell her side of the story
from the many
upon her shore's mangrove.

how the tiger guards her treasures,
prawns and ***** and honeys and woods,

pounces from the saline thickness of the mist
when dream of life is heavy on the gatherer
and smell of death far gone forgotten

rips the flesh cracks the skull open
flows the blood as silent night
carries the trophy for a bony rest
till devoured by her floodwater.

the river knows it too well

the tiger is her lover and loyal sentinel.

Outside of poetry
I would still be living a life
lightened and carefree
merrily chatting with wife.

I would let a poem rise in my head
throw to wind and see it dead
return to sky all breath of pain
watch them fall as joyous rain.

I would darken the screen let it sleep
burn the poems with none to keep
retire to the nook not been for long
brush up the web on a dusty song.

To be away from poetry I would strive
sail on the river go on long drive
snuggle tighter to a fathomless space
outside of poetry discover happiness.

it loomed like a ghost in the falling day.

an hour past the town on the way
the old man's eyes bore surprise

i wouldn't advise it, sir, not wise
waking them up is no sport

they who're sleeping in the dead men's fort.

All along i've been a phasmophobic
they ceased never to rule my head
lurking in nooks and under my bed.

it sounds nice to talk about spirits and souls
but at nights when hollows of burning coals
mistily appear and not in a dream
choke me out of scream
to that terror i fall an abject slave.

but my companion on that dusk was brave
looking at those eerily towering spires
he said let's try meeting a few vampires.

there was no door opening with a creak
but inside was a musty dark hole
where daylight made a quick retreat
as if to let the dead peacefully stroll.

we climbed up stairs strewn with dry leaves
amid sensing a storm brewing on the wing
for the awakened dead in anger seethes
to have their rest broken by the living.

soon swept us a gale of the squeaking dead
driving us out of that well occupied well
surely startled by the intruders' raid
the winged vampires were fleeing like hell.

a suffocating pain crawls up his throat
as he watches from the observation deck
a home once his now pathetically remote
in the cosmic vastness an agonizing speck!

brave wanderer was his dusty restless boot
his mind a yearning traveler on endless roam
love flew like sparks without growing root
never was one place could he call his home!

now before him stands an infinite rocky terrain
inviting him to unveil her unexplored asset
replicate a habitat of a different light and rain
build there a refuge retrieve a broken nest!

his lips seek a prayer as if to shake off fears
as creeps up his spine cold night's stardust
whispering the void of four ninety light years
the story of lost empire and all the broken trust!

rained heavy on the forlorn
white stone

April dusk had stood still
on deserted lane

iron gate to the lawn
showed mossed sleepy graves

tiptoed on the overgrown grass
for epitaph hard to read

Expect great things from God
opened eyes to more widely catch

Attempt great things for God
couldn't ruin it the ravage of years

outside tombstone waited a world
in the drizzle echoed the missionary's deathless sermon.

My heart shouldn’t have profusely bled
I saw her face only once
a moment’s crossing in a moment paid
not meant for a second chance!

The fire shouldn’t have leapt in me
she was a doomed emotion
trying to live in my penned poetry
meant to be only a notion!

My mind shouldn’t have imprisoned her
caged her from one mere glance
lived the phantom of an absurd affair
spilled ink in a mad trance!

I shouldn’t have sought her anymore
searched in the wild her trace
she couldn’t be my paramour
I saw from the crowd her face!