twenty years on
and i still look for her
on the seashore

it was a promise she made
that even if given to another man
she would break up for once
come running to the sea
for me
and if i wasn't there
she would go deeper
leaving on the sands a note

i was here as i promised

she came to my life
she came to be my wife
but twenty years on
i still look for her
on the seashore
she ageless
waiting for her lover
and then going down to the sea
leaving a note
on the sand
unerasable

*i was here as i promised

A lonely mouse
In a lonely house
With a lonely piece of bread
A lonely philosopher
On his lonely bed
With the lonely thoughts in his head!
It was a queer coincidence
Though both of them aloof
They were in true essence
Were living under one roof!
The philosopher gave a laugh
Shaking his disheveled head
‘Mere thoughts are not enough,
I can’t live without bread’!
The mouse whined in regret
‘It’s really no good
Such is my fate
I only think of food’!
The philosopher without bread
Not a word he could carve
With no thoughts in its head
The mouse didn’t starve!
The philosopher thought the mouse
He really couldn’t befriend
Though they shared the same house
They couldn’t unite in the end!
If only they could share
With each other thoughts and bread
It could be a great affair
In the way fairytales are made!
But they never made a start
The philosopher and the mouse
And lived poles apart
In the lonely decrepit house!

The winter is slowly killing her
and me
but on the deck by her side
at the low tide
the river at three is a sparkling glass
feeding a belief
there would be no end of us.

Some a flowing field of corn
some a barren plate
they die if they are ever born
falls quietly to their fate!

There's little in your hand to choose
not much that you can do
surely isn't a fun to lose
knowing so fast they grew!

What was once the face's grace
boastful glory of crown
vanish without leaving a trace
black or white or brown!

Know the truth bare and harsh
whatever color we dye
from sapling to the tallest grass
is destined to wane and die!

The wares the shop sells are all worn and fade
Cashbox is empty business is in the red
The man behind the counter couldn’t care less
Happy to be there at the forgotten address!
Cobwebs gaily growing no footsteps on its floor
A wonder the shop keeps open its door
For long no buyer not one item is sold
The shop stands there timelessly old!
Not any knows it, not one comes to buy
The shopkeeper waits, not asks himself why
His wares spread amid the gathering dust
No money in cashbox, in his heart undying trust,
Someday someone would walk in from some corner of earth
Value his wares on display, pay the price they’re worth!

When I find a seat in the bus
thoughts throng me words rush
when I stand in the jostle I regret
how rhymes are frittered go a-waste!

But in standing there's a silver lining
I care to see the visages around me
darkly grim or happily shining
the many faces of moving poetry!

She got her God at last.

Bathed and in white saree
she offers him his choicest food
burns his favorite incense
sits with him to converse
about the day and events
argues to make her point
smiles at his complaint
of less salt or more sugar
cries at his question
if she misses him
as much as he misses her
and the two reach out to each other
more than all the years
of seeking the fulcrum
to balance the bond.

O wind she is far though
in thy blow whisper to her
to find me on the horizon's glow
read heart's script on the first star!

O wind when thou pass by her
ask if she sings the old song
its notes make her eyes blur
aching for the lover missed for long!

O wind when thou play on her hair
and she feels the touch of my hand
strum the tune softly in her ear
I'm pining in a faraway land!

O wind when her cheeks thou kiss
wet them with thirsty lips' touch
speak to her my only dying wish
to let her know I loved her very much!

Time stands still on the twig.

The sky keeps changing colors,
Blue, dark, ivory, violet -
She grows old, I turn feeble,
Ego, enmity, jealousy fade,
Our stories dry up to the end!

The twig remains there,
Braving rain, bad weather,
Doesn't break, doesn't complain,
Endures mutely the passing of pain,
Standing robust under the changing sky,
Reshaped landscape, agony's cry,
With no wars to fight, no belief to defend,
Just there to see us reach the dead end!

With only a lifetime to behold

*waste no time pondering.

Not the attraction a boy of ten
has for his peers
he was not even among
the intimate friends
yet a kind of lust I felt
when he was around
a flutter and denser breath
and in his absence
paling of all else.

That early seeding
was a hushed gust
blowing awhile in the ravine of
deep south.

Pretty girls emerged from the dust
and the first man in me
grew out of first love.

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.

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!

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!

Have you ever counted hour by the seconds
feeling intensely hungry for life?

If for once the sun forgets to rise
this night fails to usher in dawn
what my memories tell me are lies
it's today only I was born.

If this day is filled to the brim
in a blissful child's innocence
yesterday is a bad dream
tomorrow makes no sense.

If only this night is a ceaseless flow
never short of word for a rhyme
on her axis the earth spins slow
and the morn is away longtime.

If only I'm allowed to choose
to relive the life whole night
a fantasy is the hangman's noose
calling me by first light.

the orb of light is my destiny.

in my dark valley
escape is a blind flight
on the moonless night

when heavy lies the fog on wing
neath misty sky crickets sing
beckons me the halogen

come embrace forget pain.

be afraid not of the one recourse
come what may fly to the source
soak in the fire of the drizzled night
life is precious with death on sight.

caught in wire stuck on fence
dying this night makes only sense
i fall like rains and at last free

the orb of light is my destiny.

I don't aspire
to be immune from fire,
only hope my resilience
withstands the burn's pains!

Those marble plaques in the cemetery
hold no dead beneath them
yet in the rising mists of winter evenings
when night like loose dark pebbles
fall from the sky
can be heard hooves of trotting horses
from the rows of cold white stones
and on nights favored by moon
is visible cavalry in scarlet serge
with pith helmets and carbine rifles
piercing the terror paused wind
with cries of vengeance
mirthful in washing blood with blood
on the fields of Cawnpore
dissolving into marble white stones
steeped in the peace of moonlight.

Strong emotions huddle into a space called heart
build up so dense are soon ripped apart
the heat drives them to expand too fast
but time dictates slow down they must.

the strong energy the explosion unleash
go on to create stars galaxies
that retreat from one another but oh what a fate
the final fallout is an unsteady state!

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.

In what hidden pain
says he

*I'll never love again.

The prelude is a dark cloud
On the soil the drop’s din
Overcoming the arid shroud
The earth is once again green.
From the soil the earthworm burrows
Will pour out heart’s hidden streams
Burying the slumber of the morose
Reviving the dormant dreams!

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

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.

Cumulonimbus
In crimson blush
Glowing healers,
Smoothly redresses
My day’s weariness
Its billowing pillars,
Pride’s epitomes
In shapely domes
My worries offload,
I feel so free
Rid of agony
On a joyous road!

‘You seemed to love her deeply’
I told my uncle.
It was raining dense
As I held him back,
The evening was not one to go out.
‘Deeply enough no doubt’
His voice echoed in gloom.
‘But she wasn’t your type,
she was flirtatious,
she had many like you’.
‘Still I loved her deep,
loved her mad,
loved her till and after
she broke my heart’.
I saw a glint in his eyes.
‘Forty years and she still hurts,
batters my self respect,
taunts my defeats’.
‘But you got yourself a steady partner,
not flirtatious, never leaving your side’.
‘True but she did the damage,
she left me to seek her in all women’.
Outside the rain stopped
And the sky begot a half moon.
He still loves her, I pondered,
Her fossil he bears
All these forty years,
But had he got her,
Could he carry the cross of love so far?

When in moonlight her tide swells
the river dances to the temple bells
mounts the ghat kissing in lust
moans aloud in the wind’s gust
it’s then the moon lifts her veil
entwines her makes love at will.

In the eerie hours half asleep
I heard my name in a soft voice.

It was a wake up call I couldn't resist
The jungle was in dark mist
The night ending but morning was still frail
The call was to tread on the fallen leaves trail.

The trees were shaded dark the sky was pale
Every bush was where the shadows fell
Quiet was the air our heart tautly tense
We tiptoed our best, and it made sense.

Tweet of early birds didn't sound sweet
Danger awaited at all sides to meet
We strained ears for the slightest sound
The jungle a romance on a perilous ground.

On the dry boulded river shapes were deep
Moving in a herd crawling to the steep
We stood frozen on this other side
To let the distance between grow wide.

Years have flown and whenever in the woods
I see my father's figure in jungle brood
He wakes me up and stretches his hand
We fly through the bushes in jungle land.

With the veins of my grief
the day dies a fallen leaf
night’s shadows in me confide
the boat is coming from the other side
chirping crickets on darkness feed
thickens smell of mangrove reed
waves rolling in the saline stream
paint a boat in slumbered dream.

The cursor curses the wait

thru the blinks it sniffs
something is amiss

it can't though surmise the cause
of the pause
but guesses the abyss

elusive shapes and shadows
a void that grows
the lost surge

the jumble in the head
the missing thread
the moribund urge.

There's so much to right
and nothing to write.

It happens with old men
Have seen it times umpteen
I’m a boy again
You too sweet sixteen!

You sit with folded knees
Pulling down your skirt
Lest in naughty breeze
Thereto my eyes dart!

As long as it’s your face
Things are hunky dory
Tales of such retrace
Tell you as teatime story!

But often it happens
As the dreams unfurl
I can’t make its sense
Appears another girl!

She may be the one I know
Or a face I have never seen
Crafted in moon’s glow
Carved from days of teen!

Such dreams they quickly abort
When her I embrace
Make with her a rapport
On her neck comes back your face!

Next morn I feel glum
Hide behind newspaper
Teatime I sit mum
Without a story for her!

If you ever travel under rain dotted blue
stop at the ten mile haat.

Sellers there are not smart
buyers don't ever bargain
strange is their dealing art
both parties feel having gained.

Small is all they have
except the smiles on the face
the little the garden has saved
is sold to fetch happiness.

There's no haggling on price
never mind if you don't buy
no price is needed to be nice
peace is just an easy try.

Small men with not much of need
who easily make you their part
an island that lies far from greed
enchants you wins your heart.

And it's not a story that I make
I happen to be there once a while
return with a bag of big take
from the village haat at ten mile.

In the crowded platform
he sure was the dancing peacock
in his heart was blowing a storm
he feigned though looking at the station clock.*

Not the clock he was eying that one lovely girl
her face storm gatherer like her hair's black curl
he blushed every time she would catch his eyes
stealing her a look in indifference's disguise.

He was within enjoying this farcical foreplay
didn't know her train his was an hour away
imagined she too was singling him out
from the flock of men his contenders no doubt.

Did a wispy smile float on her cherry lip
few moments' encounter could it be that deep
still in his wondrous thought the girl he did own
on that absurd stage for her his love was grown.

One could not tell what was going within her
her eyes were they touched shone there a star
was she too mindful of him held him once in gaze
or her mind was too far away on a different page.

The hour passed quick in the young man's trance
between changing trains with the peacock's dance
when chugged in her train flew away the butterfly
the whistles of his train drowned his rending sigh.

stores are running deficit
provisions unreplenished
ovens seeing less of flames
you're writing love poems!

cobwebs in the rooms dance
future in shambles unplanned
caught in lunatic trance
you're writing romance!

dirt is marking the wall
worries bursting the skull
expenses shaking nerve
you're busy writing love!

no bother no future plan
quickly dwindling ration
drowned in dense emotion
you're pouring passion!

Where the river meanders for the sky’s embrace
Her lovelorn bank pines in the banyan’s shade
Blue ripples sing to soothe her travel’s stress
Lay me when all poems are dead in my head.

Write me an epitaph here rests the river poet
Who loved the cotton clouds mirrored on her breast
As her tides rose high laden with desire’s weight
He broke away from chains to madly sail her crest.

Where shines the moon makes the lover’s pathway
Flows quiet the river in her waves shadows sway
Night heron’s feet kiss her soft feathered bed
Lay me in silence when all poems are dead.

Lay me soft down make for me a space
On her alluvial soil in her riverine grace
In her diurnal shine and night’s saline kiss
The river poet would find his eternal peace.

I have never seen her the way
saw her the first day.*

she was the prettiest from far
when the beauty of her
was in dream discovered!

she was the sweetest of song
when she first came along
my heart went ding ****!

she wasn't just a pretty face
but a fountain of grace
my happiest address!

but the days soon wore
in insane explore
she was new no more!

seen it from morn
her splendor was shorn
she turned a monotone!

i found many a flaw
her plume was of daw
by proximity's law!

When moon like an empty plate
mocks the hunger
the famished bones hunt for a morsel.

Clinks of cutlery fires the belly
aroma of meals calls like a melody

there's a table full of happy faces
chewing and chuckling and chattering
picking eating dropping and littering
their plates are full aha never less
food after food over food always
a fire in oven a bed of clean sheet
never they're they're never short of heat
eyes that are heavy droop easy soon
behind tightly shut windows to the moon.

Snuffed out will ***** out all traces of light
they break into wails rending the night
nothing now moves over the dead town
except the bones with moon as the crown.

It all started after two deaths struck the family
The house was devastated it happened so quickly
They were still in mourning coping with the shock
When was heard their presence the eerie nightly knocks!

The sadness was soon replaced by a sense of horror
Footsteps were heard with none on the corridor
The lights went off their own stones pelted from nowhere
Doors banged without a gale lost things weren’t anywhere!

Ashes dumped on food filled jug was soon empty
Wastes lay littered in rooms locked and debarred entry
Nights were spent sleepless each stayed on bed awake
Praying for the knockings to stop arrival of daybreak!

The terrorized house lay numb without a key to the mists
Till they had them enough the pranks of the evil spirits
Too long was going this at their cost the ghostly ruckus
Not deterred by one’s boastful claim we got a gun with us!

When the unwanted visitors showed no signs of retreat
Priests were summoned to drive out the evil spirits
They said not one but the house is playing host
To not one evildoer but a bunch of malevolent ghosts!

They performed for three days got bagful royal treat
Then they were gone but the visitors didn’t retreat
It was by now known they would go on till
Their mission accomplished they could close the deal!

One day it all stopped as suddenly as did start
Quietly they left sprightly souls did depart
But also found were gone with the phantoms’ revelry
Grandpa’s saved gold coins all Grandma’s jewelry!

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.

By the end of winter
hind the canopy of leaves
they build a chaotic nest.

She sits meditative
he stands watchful
and once only my eyes could intrude
four bluish white nuggets.

When in the first winds of summer
dance the mango buds
small wings would ache
not to fly beyond mother's love.

But she knows no time to waste
so they too on the next winter
gather twigs for a nest.

As the winds break into small feathered kisses
and idly burden the heart this May day
I lament for all the long withered wishes
once whose petals bloomed on my way.

A begone time love feeling unfailingly true
a touch that left a long hovering trail
on the probing soul fertile they grew
before cruel days wore them frail.

Aspirations soared on sun blazed wings
they had to be have on awakened nights
the innocent's hunts for the most precious things
haloed in passions of untamable sights.

On feathered winds were they drifted and gone
notions of love and visions to build high
but by their fire made me a man
leaving imprints as the years went by.

I used to eye her more than books.

She had good looks
and for me
in the library
she killed the dullness of patience
the stifled air of silence
with her lips' hidden smile
that was quite a diversion
from pouring over yellowed pages
all the while.

In the garden I sought my chance
but she resisted any advance
telling me it's not her
I needed to be in my mind
but a job I must find
for couldn't be raised a family
merely loving in the library.

I think she gave me love
when I needed a job
but by the time I earned the bread
she was already married.

Once I thought of her as Miss Giving
but now as I look back
I have serious misgiving.

In the sheets of drizzle below the autumn cloud
eyes beaming with the glow of love
wave at the receding figure
to the farthest visibility.

The man leashed to the cubicle with the screen
would think of those faces
when the day is at its broadest invitation
and light like the luminous ether
fills every dark pocket of the land
listening to the rhyme of the clock
from his abyss of ratios and rates
while the vagabond clouds come together
and break apart in the game of revealing blue
painting new faces and waving hands
on the landscape of the gate
up to the farthest turn
in the sheets of drizzle
beneath the autumn clouds.