They deserve admiration immense
who sometimes talk and write nonsense.

At half past ten when alone with my slice
for you had early dinner on doctor's advice
I miss you darling at the dining table
your listening of my recaps of the day's fables!

Now I have my dinner in an empty space
with none to be teased none to address
just eating in silence on my lonely chair
missing you darling wishing you were there.

If you aren't there who do I tease
who do I sell poems who do I please
my avidest listener most ardent fan
I miss you badly my dining companion.

Comes half past ten I don't feel nice
sitting by myself with the lonely slice
now I know dear it's no small price
to not have you at dinner on doctor's advice.

In death's dulled aftermath
weeps the house

none sees its tears
for the one it held within
for many years

who it nurtured in walled comfort
inducing a sense of permanence

till last night under the stars
came to fetch him the hearse

and he left without caring a fig
in haste for the final benediction
and the burning logs

feigning a peace

as if he wouldn't miss
and not be missed
under the sun
by anyone.

One man less
the house too would heal.

Death is not a big deal.

there are still some left
not all beautiful things are lost
a grass flower in windy waft
windowpane's wintry frost.

not all good things are gone with time
like wet leaves in the summer rain
tides and ebbs the seasons' rhymes
the house on the corner lane!

not all sweet things are gone dead sour
like her touch in the cold of night
birds' trills in the morn's first hour
thrill of love at first sight!

there are still left the honey dew
some redress for all our sorrow
not all is lost for you and I
to give up dreaming tomorrow!

Not all men are poets

some come home to play cards
banter with wife
ask what's for dinner made
head for bed.

they don't bother to think deep
don't string emotions into written words
are ever joyful with a game of cards
nights lend them quite good sleep.

they don't dabble in poetry
going beyond is not their cup of tea.

Not all men are poets
they need not be
without it they have enough to keep

gift of a day night's peaceful sleep!

I confess to you
I hardly confess to her.

Why I say this is
I often deliberately miss
To say the sorry-s I owe her
For having found fault with her
Only discovering after some hours
It was me who was wrong all along
What she did was amply right
What she did was with farsight
Her acts take care of only my needs
My wants she always perfectly reads.

A piece of the dairy white sweet in my lunchbox
Soft silken milky treat
When melts in my mouth
I remember this morn I told her
Why you bring these ****** plain sweets
And not those juicy colored scented treats
Don’t put any of those in my lunchbox
Not caring her face’s strains of shocks!

I have forgotten though she has remembered
My utterings of emotion its every word
How I miss dear those plain white sweets
Pure unencumbered most delightful treat.

I have forgotten she remembers
My companion of all weathers
She picks my choice she knows my mind
Yet for her a sorry I hardly find.

*Don’t you think tonight in her ears
I should coo a sorry in unuttered whispers?

There are so many things to feel,
Love, joy, pain, heartbreak,
Billion words to tell them
But not a word to express them
The way they truly feel!

He was given a notebook
to write whatever on its page
quite some years it took
before it came of age.

All these years he kept writing
he thought it was his everything
to him mattered what really
was no page should be left empty.

When he exhausted the last page
he found he had missed a lot to say
there remained unsaid at each stage
that he put off for another day.

He needed one more page in the notebook
to fill it up with what was till then unsaid
but the rule did not permit a re-look
no provision for a revision was made.

It was bothering him the noise that came at night from outhouse
He didn’t give it much notice in the barn was a lot of mouse
Just wondered why in the day he would hear none of the sound
But it all started with him on the bed and the lunar path westbound.

As the grandfather clock chimed past twelve he kept counting the gong
It was about time to ***** up his ears the music would soon play along
The glass windowpane brought him the sky with stars all over firmament
Shaken out of wits he would tell himself it couldn’t be done by rodent.

Night after night it went on happening he couldn’t wish away with a laugh
It reached him one night to his patience’s end he said enough is enough
With his gun and torch he left the bed the truth for once he must learn
Who played the music regular midnight was somebody there in the barn?

He made his way through the shrub laden path under a half-lit moon
To find what it was that robbed his peace the source of the pestering croon
The outhouse loomed eerily in semidarkness a magic of night’s artistry
The man wondered what was hidden within what piece of baffling mystery.

Just as his shadow fell on the door floating in the crescent moon
The wind hushed off descended a lull stopped abruptly the tune
Nerves frayed in the nightly trudge his brows furrowed in doubt
He shrugged it off unlocked the door the fact must be found out.

A yawning black swallowed him with the smell of years’ dust
It took a while to see past it for his strained eyes to adjust
Then he remembered the torch in his hand his only aid for light
He pressed it on in the beamed circle caught the piano’s sight.

*Lying un-strummed for ages the piano had stood the time’s test
Playing host to its squeaking mates turning itself to their nest
They gaily treaded on the undead keys the notes were sheer fun
Their plot was uncovered on that night without the use of a gun.

I say
She understands
Not everything I do
She approves
Not all acts of mine
She finds good

She just knows

My mind’s every line.

Not everything I speak
She finds sweet
Not everything I love
She loves
Not all ways of mine
She finds good

She just finds me

For her just fine.

Not everything I can make into a poem
like the sky just after rain
her embroidered smile its minutest hem
in her shade of cornea a grain of pain!

Not everything I can make into a poem
like wind eddies from wings of bird
her amorous veil that stokes my flame
in her lips’ quiver the unuttered word!

Not everything I can make into a poem
like the heron’s swoosh on the moon of marsh
her endless aroma without a name
in her eyes the million stars!

Not everything I can make into a poem
like when perches the bird on nest
her flushed cheeks in love game
in her kiss the sea salt’s taste!

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!

Just a thought of it and I lose my cheer
I missed you a lot in the preceding year
I can’t blame you; it’s not your fault
Our not seeing each other happened by default!
It so happened we missed each other’s face
Encounters were replaced by texts of sms
Words were few, though sometimes we called
Technologies conspired; our meetings got stalled!
Years rolling by, times so fast fly
Relations are stuck at ‘hello’ n ‘hi’
Wiser we are growing, a smarter human race
We have little time to see each other’s face!

I float without a root
without home
without someone my own.
I love this nowhere-ness
and would rather be
a nowhere-man
drifting at his pace
without a pull
to be part of a tribe
and live a life
not his own.

Now that I’m growing young / into my second childhood
I’ve decided to forsake / brooding brows and swinging mood
All things that I tell now / and all stuff that I read
All thoughts I jot on paper / must be understood by a kid.

Now that I’m growing young / turning green once more
I have decided to think simple / leave behind the abstract’s door
All things that I do now / all thoughts that I seed
All words I shoot from mouth / must be understood by a kid.

Now that I’m growing young / I must not find it hard
To not beat about the bush / speak straight not mincing word
All words that I speak or write / all words the others read
All my penning on the paper / must be understood by a kid.

Now that I’m growing young / I must break each old rule
Make clarity my hallmark / lucid expressions my tool
Whatever price I have to pay / would not pay the abstruse a heed
All my outpouring on the canvas / must be understood by a kid.

O boatman, for a while, pause
Before you ferry me across
I need to be on this side
Hold your oars for next tide.
Time isn't ripe for the final sail
I'm yet to bid her last farewell
Get last drop of love from her heart
See her smile before I depart.
O boatman, pause before we sail,
To my beloved I want to tell
Not to forget in her lonely tears
The happiness of our sunshine years.

A prolonged war with virus has worn her quite a bit
Back home though from hosp she is still far from fit
I don’t know how to cook can’t make a simple meal
She drained of strength has to gather all her will.
For she knows for all my rhymes I’m practically no good
Won’t budge from my ignorance to make for us some food
In the kitchen I tell her ‘show me how to make
A few basic dishes I’m tired of cornflake’.
She says ‘too late dear, know what I feel?
You lost thirty years to grow some culinary skill’
Then she busies herself while I get lost in rhyme
Her occupation is life saving, mine not worth a dime.

He’s the odd bird out I tell my wife
His time is up full spent his life
Bereft of feathers peeps out his skin
He doesn’t deserve anymore caged in.

He could now the others infect
For the ones healthy him must reject
Once he is gone we would have the good four
Let us be practical and show him the door.

My wife a kind lady looks at me askance
Is this the same man or someone else by chance
Then bringing herself together says with a stern face
How could you be so cruel and horribly pitiless!

I reason with her time is closing for him to die
We would do it better if we let him taste the sky
His life is already wasted enslaved in your cage
Why not give it the wind to fly turn over a new page!

She isn’t convinced an iota from what I clearly spell
Get in her eyes the clouds impending rains well
It’s too late now she says not to let him end his life
In the world he knows his own with a family of the five!

I made a man of me this morning

A small will made it possible

To have one day away from me
Setting my self free from me
Still be a man under the sun
Easier said easier done.

For me a giant leap
At a price too cheap
Of all the days countless
For self grown
For self owned
Taking just a day off from me
And doing that easy.

I was tired of seeing only self in the mirror

A little will made me shelve it this morn

And in the mirror came a man’s vision.

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.

If lies in us the mind of God
within us is God’s abode
then why most of the time
of our free will

We act a devil!

In her eyes
on her frail frame
four monsters feast

Of shame she dies
vanishes her name
devoured by the beasts!

Look back
The old rack
May have in its nooks
Dusty books
That were for you made
But you never read
Like you never noticed eyes
With loving look
Never heard sighs
Things you mistook
And lost for good
Like the unread book!
There maybe something
For long waiting
Unknown to you
Silent but precious
Like dropping dew
Life’s must
Withering away in dust!

Loyalty is fleeting
Fragile to the touch
I’m scared of being
Trusted too much!

For I too am tempted
To seek new pasture
I’m not exempted
From greeding luster!

Old brew is fine
But thirsts this lip
To taste new wine
A forbidden sip!

So I ventured
As secretly willed
Tried adventure
On greener field!

But lo I returned
A hole in my heart
All fingers burned
Soul ripped apart!

Can’t hide from her
She knows it true
Healing my scar
Needs her old brew!

He comes knocking your door
Buys things you need no more
Weighs and pays for discarded load
Then goes off to another road.

For your pound he pays pence
Makes it seem in perfect sense
The deal is only if you're willing
To barter the old for new shilling.

You feel he adds some happiness
Clears the dirt creates the space
Your home was long a messy lot
With no place for new things brought.

Not all old things are like that dirt
A few are ever new are your part
He never asks them to be sold
Knowing you wouldn't for price of gold.

The humankind was never kind to them.

From their peaceful Pliocene graves
they were dug out, doggedly read,
their skulls and bones laid bare
gorged upon every finest details
all the apparent lunacy
directed to determine a link
always close yet too far.

Roaming that placid basin
they could not dream
to be a mystery past two million years
crazily pursued to be cracked open.

They have been branded Nutcracker Man.

These Holocene men are truly nuts.

In the rush of new, old ones go dead
Ink dried up, their colors fade,
Poet, pause a while from the race of rhymes
To dig out the ones buried in olden times.
They’re precious pearls, each some moments’ capsule
Fires of bygone era that soon cindered cool
Your tears, joys, broken pieces of your mind
Made with alphabets, with your spirit refined!
Though pined for life your poem’s each word
Once delivered, you consigned to graveyard
A day’s applause that staled into night
No sooner than born, shoved out of sight.
Poet, the old ones, beneath dust they moan,
Dig them out, they are your own,
Take a break, from the gushing ones’ race,
Dip your heart, in the old wine’s grace.

It gave me a **** and an emotional stir
surely I hadn't seen it earlier
in a fleeting moment in my eyes' mirror
saw the glimpse of an old woman in her!

Alarmed I was and didn't savor
surely I hadn't seen it ever
always said god do me this favor
make not an old woman of her!

Old she would grow I thought never
hoped age would give her waiver
dreamed her skin would glow forever
till I saw an old woman in her!

I thought my river would ever meander
her tides would reach the yonder
but all my wishes were torn asunder
when emerged an old woman from her!

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.

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.

One night for a whole hour
I stayed awake for meteor shower
A good night’s sleep tho’ I badly need
Beckoned me the fireworks of Geminid.

I imagined sky in dazzling light
Shooting stars in lunatic flight
And me this splendor viewing alone
With moon at west close to dawn.

On my hairs dripped dews noiseless
Eyes caught Jupiter’s shining face
I stood the hour in awesome stupor
Seeking in Gemini the bright Castor.

Lo not flowed the faintest streak
Winter’s chill dug and pricked
Smell of morn when was airborne
I left for bed displeased and worn.

From his glassed verandah
he stared in wonder at the motionless sky
with not a star twinkling,
he felt sadly amused,
the little stars don’t twinkle here
and he was so far away from the land
he had known all along as his home.
suddenly it dawned on him
that it wasn’t for no reason
that he felt rootless and homeless
in what was so long his abode
the same way he’s feeling now
in this glassed verandah
one fifty million miles away
from the place he calls home.
he shivered in this thought
looking at the vast frigid sky
where hurtled the ghost of phobos
whose pale orb he found too dimmed
to spin webs of dreams
he did with the silvery disc
in his once familiar sky.
at the sight of that desert terrain
exposed yet bereft of the wind’s ravage
where time stood timelessly frozen,
he felt lost in a massive alienness
listlessly searching for a way out
to come back to a tranquil equilibrium.

then his eyes fell on the ocean water blue
and he couldn’t hold back his tears.
like a man possessed
he started tapping the keys….

The first flower blossomed on that lifeless world.

'neath spotless grey sky
the doel croons
winter's coming
its mournful tunes

does she feel my ache
hear heart's break
or it's all in my head
to sing she's made!

Around her green rows of trees
Breezy breaths and buzzing bees
Her crystal face mirrors serenity
A strip of pond far from city!
From autumn clouds sky pours its mirth
On this small village a mound of earth
Here men of soil hands smudged with clay
Merrily live in huts of hay!
When they smile it’s smile sure
Tooth bared from feelings pure
Truth they know learned no deceit
With open arms they warmly greet!
What they speak is unrehearsed
Flow from heart no grudge nursed
They don’t mince words haven’t the skill
Speak only that they truly feel!
This autumn day I’m their guest
By the almond pond in their thatched nest
To submerge deep in placidity
And forget awhile rush of city!

They come to haunt on an evening as this
when thunders roar fall endless rains
windowpanes moan in frosted kiss
awaken within long lost pains!

They don’t bear me a name or a face
the massless aches ***** like thorn
oozing out from what hidden place
on an evening as this they’re born!

In the blowing gust rain’s beelike drones
shatter my heart’s all gathered peace
mess the mind feed upon bones
leave me broken on an evening as this!

The pains don’t bear me a name or a face
don’t tell what hurts for what I miss
but ***** out all gathered happiness
rain my eyes on an evening as this!

The ones thought lost never go away
find in you a place anchor and stay
on a rainy evening such as this
they come to your mind plant there a wish.

The girl you loved but never got to tie
you thought you lost when the years went by
comes back to you with the dust laden ring
her finger still unwarm on this rainy evening.

As the rain pours in the streetlight's glow
you regret if only you hadn't let her go
wish her to come back by a magic happening
redraft torn pages on this rainy evening.

Your side of the window can't rub off the cold
of the void in you left for her face never old
you madly ask could give anything to find
if on this rainy evening you come once in her mind.

The blooded lump brings a joyous sight
She smiles to deliver it from womb to light
Not understanding it emits a guttural cry
From that moment her eyes are never dry.
She pours fountains into its dried lips
Each drop is nectar that her heart drips
She clutches it close with every bone
Extends in it and she knows it alone.
Flesh of her flesh apple of her eyes
Mystifying thing that on her breast lies
Ceaselessly she delves love suffocates her
It defines her being her sky's only star.
It matters nothing what it would bring
She's into the heaven flying on its wing
For it she now lives for it she can die
Her eyes from this moment will never be dry.

Take eyes off cybersphere
give your notebook a rest
the night sky today is so clear
the moon shines at her best!

Outside the night sparkles bright
the sky holds no dark scars
***** on the dreamy moonlight
dance to the tune of the stars!

Rain your skin in the dew
feel her kiss on fingertip
let not the night go past you
with your eyes rested on sleep!

The moon if returns would be sad
pined all the while for your glance
you were sinking in notebook ipad
losing a once lifetime chance!

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.

The river will flow ceaseless
The sapling will be a tree
Will sing in happiness
The new you and the new me.

The sky will inspire a song
The birds will chirp in morn
Seasons will duly come along
Day and night will be born.

You won't know but we'll meet
Under the canopy of stars
Our love will again be sweet
Through all the blushes and scars.

We shall emerge anew again
Lost we never will be
Under the sun and pouring rain
There'll be a new you and me.

There may be snakes in the bush
I cautioned her.

This place* she said you chose,
it's you brought me this far.

The lone grazing horse
cast us its saddest glance

filled with dark remorse
for the tethered neck and all the lost chance.

The weeded palace was palled in gloom
till lit a spark lovers' entwined arm
the king must have loved in this room
white satin on cold night bed warmed.

Roofless we moved not when came the rain
not let go what for long was kept walled
the horse knowingly neighed for what was to happen
in that paradise of an undying make believe world!

Intent on shells
she's a girl
where screech the gulls.

Age she kills
makes sandhills
breaks the walls.

Our skins barest bare
in this long awaited retreat
we sit on adirondack chair
waves washing our feet.

We know such times are fragile
like dreams leaving at dawn
are like an imagined mile
before are breaths withdrawn!

We ponder not on what to write
not pour one word from breast
just wait for when seeping night
push the ring of flame to the west!

When one by one they come on the far
two shadows grow on the shore
we string one poem with a silken star
hearts sing in joy encore!

We let our bloods flow to the sea
our souls on sands lay bare
When new tides rise in the morn to be
find two adirondack chair!

Life is but death's glorified twin
a delirious din in the hush
our days a riddle of earthly spin
an illusory maddening rush!

Where the river abandons herself to the creek
and the mudbank is cratered with crabclaws
waits the old man.

He doesn't know his years
but his ears are a sonic gift
catching the tonal variations of tides
seemingly for eons
evolving with the mangrove map
into a flawless tracker
of how far the moon would recline
for ***** to be holed out
and what shoreline the water would touch
before the shrimps starlight driven
make a beeline for the net.

I encountered him once
in the absurdity of a time
when I was high
and he lowly crouching
was making art by the creek.

Who was the poet
I could never tell.

The classroom window had a clear view of the park
and when the July clouds painted the sky dark
the boy would start to cry!

Why, the teacher exclaimed, why these tears
it's all so pleasant, and there's nothing to fear
the rain is so welcome, it does only good
so why boy it finds you in such bitter mood!

Saying thus, he would walk back to his table
by the rain upon windowpane, I was inconsolable
brisker than rain were the tears in my eyes
in the thought there would be flood, water would rise
the walk back home would be a herculean feat
with the street flooded, hidden manholes beneath
I was haunted by the spectre of how the water rose
crawled past my chest, and reached up the nose
the swelling river would find me an easy victim
the teacher didn't know, I didn't know how to swim!

When the school bell finally rang, they ran joyous in the rain
splashing and soaking merrily, their way was heaven
only I stayed back, as if my feet had grown roots
late evening I reached home, in heavy sodden boots.

She loved the mesh of hair over her eyes.

My hair is all messed up, she smiled
I'm enmeshed in love, she kept smiling.

The winds rushed past
piercing her with kisses.

There goes the girl
the sky parted the clouds to see
her cheeks are sunset blush.

The birds hovered low over her.

They cackled and the air rippled.

The engine in awed silence
felt her weight.

Oh she weighs so low
light with the burden of love.

Over the bridge and down the highway
she melted in the crisp autumn glow
and he would never know
behind him she rose and fell
in that only once ride
with him.

A soul is all you needed to be human,
I tell the ape,
that God blessed us with upon divergence
when he made us lose our tails
but forked us into different routes
in his flash of magnificence
morphing us into a super entity
but pitifully
depriving you of that edge.

A soul, I assert with satisfaction,
would've kept you out of this cage.

You might not have even noticed it,
I hated the grin on its face,
yours has only some wider space
by God's will,
so you wouldn't easily feel
your soul's losing the way in the maze.

But a cage, is a cage, is a cage..

Soon after birth
It asks

What worth?

All the thoughts
The words to shape me
Are they necessary?

What reward?

Can’t hold onto this moment
The delusion you paint
Goaded by a mad chase
To lift the haze
Fill up the dearth
Give all wildness a berth
And then
Just when
Relieve the pain
Start all over again

What gain?

Brick upon brick
Rhyming rhythmic
Verbose prose
Random rambling
Under the sky anything

What sense?

Knows one who writes

**For one audience.